Page 25 of Forgotten
Then, I close my eyes. Because I might not remember much of the past few years but I remember how incapable Ash is of kissing without tongue.
Except there’s no tongue. Ash is moving away too quickly and I wish I’d used lip balm.
“Ford…”
I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to think about it. I chase Ash’s lips and I hug an arm around his neck. Pushing my tongue against Ash’s mouth, he lets me in, deepening the kiss.
It’s minty, it’s explosive, it’s everything. I suck onto Ash’s lower lip and a soft groan escapes his mouth.
“Ford,” he repeats and yeah, right. Winnie.
Clutching the phone in my hand tighter, I take a step back. My memories aren’t back. Whatever true love kiss magic I was imagining is not working.
“Just go,” I urge, seeing how Ash is stalling, licking his lips dreamily.
“Yeah, yeah. Got… got to take… gotta… I’m meeting Sydney and Darshi for… I have to… yeah.” Grabbing his jean jacket from the floor, Ash pirouettes with Winnie and wraps her around his chest, under his jacket.
I laugh. “You don’t need to hide her, everyone knows you’re here, Ash.”
“Oh, I know. This is just extra fun for her.”And for me. Ashley doesn’t say it, but I read him so easily. Alwayscould.
As they leave the room, Ashley whispers to Winnie, “Say ‘goodbye, Dad!’” and a little hand appears.
“Bye Da.”
I wave a little goodbye back, and manage to keep the tears in until they’re both gone.
Chapter 10
2010 - Ashley
“Did I tell you Sydney and Darshi kissed?”
Without looking away from the screen, Ford pops a sweetie into his mouth. “Gross. Why?”
“I know, right!”
In the summer of 2010, England is playing against Germany in the World Cup and Ford insisted I come to his house to watch the match. I couldn’t care less about football, but he does, so I sit on the couch with him on the warm June night, half listening to his comments on the match.
“Besides I thought Darshi fancied you?” Ford asks me next.
Which is a reminder of something I’ve been meaning to tell him and it brings me back to the loud thoughts in my head. “She did.”
That gets Ford’s attention, but not for long. He throws me a look and gets more comfortable on the couch, grabbing the bowl of sweeties and placing it on his lap. “I don’t follow.”
Before I can get a word out, Ford shouts and curses at the television. He doesn’t usually follow football this much. At school, Ford is in the rugby team and in summer, he plays cricket. Football is just something he likes every two years. And every two years, I remember why I hate men running behind a ball. I keep my mouth shut, waiting for him to be done. I have no idea what happened in the game and I’m not sure I want to ask.
“Sorry. You were saying?”
“Darshi did like me.”
“Why would she kiss Sydney, then? Wait, is she cheating on you?”
“What, no. No cheating.”
Frowning, Ford hands me the bowl and I fish out a wrapped chocolate.
Here we go. I have no idea how to do this, where to start from. I know I’m not making sense but I need to do this now. There is this urgency inside of me that I cannot shut up anymore.
