Remember Me

Chapter 33

When I pull up to my destination, my nerves are going haywire and I feel like I could puke. I lean my head back, close my eyes, and focus on taking a few deep breaths. When I start feeling more composed and in control of myself, I open my eyes. I quickly get out of my car before I can change my mind or lose my newly restored nerve. 

When I walk in, the familiar and comforting smell instantly hits my nose. It’s too bad that the place has become tainted and I plan on never coming back again if I can help it. I quickly scan the room and see that it’s empty. I hear footsteps walking from the back. A moment later my skin starts wildly tingling and humming. My gaze flicks over to where I heard the footsteps and lands on a devilish smirk and taunting gray eyes. He’s wearing the usual diner shirt and the pants he had on earlier. He has a dishtowel around his neck, his hands holding the ends so I assume that’s what he was doing before I made my arrival. 

“What a surprise,” he sarcastically says, the smirk still glued to his face and his eyes narrowing for a brief second. 

“Cut the bullshit,” I snap, storming up to the counter he’s now leaning on with his arms, planting myself in front of him, mirroring his stance while narrowing my eyes at him. 

“I’m sorry. You just missed Mary,” he teasingly says with a mischievous light shining in his sharp, penetrating frosty grey eyes. 

The more I keep eye contact with him the more they begin to look almost silver, more so when the light catches them. They’re hypnotic and mesmerizing. They pull you in and have the ability to give you the sense that you’re close to drowning. I look at the countertop where my hands rest and focus on the specks while I reel in my traitorous thoughts.  

“We both know I didn’t come for Mary,” I sneer at him. 

His hands inch closer, brushing against mine and setting my skin on fire everywhere he touched. I pull my hands away from him and bring them down. Me pulling away doesn’t escape his astute, observing gaze and makes smugness enter into his devilish smirk. I ball my hands into fists underneath the counter, hoping it will make the reaction he set off come to a halt. I quickly resort to trying to ignore it when that doesn’t work. 

“Well, as you can see, I'm the only one here and I‘m kind of busy at the moment,” he continues jiving. 

“Then hand it over and I can go like we both want,“ I hiss. 

“No idea what you’re talking about, firecracker.” 

I watch him with red hot fury as he slaps his hands down onto the countertop and stands up to his full height. Why me? Why did I have to be the one stuck with him? Why am I the person he’s set out to drive insane? I chew my lip as I go through every scenario I can come up with to end this. In my race to figure something out, my eyes unwittingly land on where his arms are up and his hands are holding the towel around his neck like previously. And for the first time since coming into the diner, I notice that one of his arms is now covered in a full sleeve tattoo and tattoo film. I tear my gaze away before I can make it out and look back up into his eyes. 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Hand it over now and you can get back to washing dishes and we both can get back to staying far away from each other.” 

He stands in his spot firmly, not even blinking. If he wants to be stubborn then I can be too. I take a seat on the bar stool next to me. He grins provokingly at me, understanding my intent to stay until I get what I came for, and smoothly turns away from me and strides to the back. Filled with angry determination, I grab a pen I spot lying beside the cash register and begin drawing on a napkin with nothing else to occupy my time. 

I don’t know how much time has passed when my skin begins to prickle with awareness and the napkin is abruptly pulled from underneath my hand. My head snaps up and sees him holding it up and observing it. I reach out and snatch it back from his grip but my mind is all too aware that I only succeeded because he let me. His smirk is back as he gives me a calculating look. 

“It’s not the worst I’ve seen,” he says nonchalantly, making his way around the counter and to the front door. “I’m about to lock up early, Holloway. Time to go,” he continues seriously, for once, while he opens the door and waves for me to leave. 

“Does Mary know you’re leaving early?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. 

“You let me worry about that. Come on. I need to be getting out of here soon.” 

“Give me the assignment and I’ll be more than happy to leave,” I tell him, setting my jaw and crossing my arms. 

He lets out a breathy dark chuckle and chews his lip. But I can see his body is starting to tense up. Why? I want more than anything to know what Colton and Riley had heard about him right now. Does he have a girl waiting for him? A s*x date? Looking him over, the thought seems plausible. 

“I’m not asking. Get out, Holloway. Now,” he growls viciously at me. 

“I’m not asking either, Ashford,” I retort icily.  

He rubs his jaw and I can see the muscles tightening and throbbing in it. His stare is frosty and dark with annoyance and anger. He pulls his phone out of his front pocket and looks at it briefly before putting it back. I watch as he storms toward the counter. 

“What are you going to do? Call the police?” 

“No police, sweetheart,” he growls, grabbing me by the underside of the top of my arm. “I don’t need them,” he continues, pushing me outside and making me stumble before gaining my footing. 

I let out an infuriated scream and stomp my foot. I turn around and am met with his menacing grin as he turns the lock. I make my way back to my car and begin digging through my bag for the couple of bobby pins I keep inside of it. When I retrieve them, I set to work on picking the lock. Luckily, it’s an older one so I get it unlocked pretty quickly.  

I close the door quietly behind me and go behind the counter, hoping to find his bookbag or the paper at the very least. My eyes scan the length of the back of the counter and find nothing of the sort. I chew my lip and think about where else he might keep it. Break room? Storage room? Does this place even have a break room? 

I get to the hallway and press my back flush against the wall, making sure to step quietly and keep my ears alert. After making it halfway down, I notice an open door diagonal from what I presume must be the entrance to the kitchen. I peek into the kitchen, holding my breath, and see that he’s nowhere in sight. As I dart through the open entrance the lights shut off and coats everything in inky darkness.  

The only light guiding me is an emergency light in the corner of the room. I scan the room and my eyes land on what looks to be a bookbag. Relieved, I rush over to it and begin plundering through it. I have to hold in a frustrated groan when the contents are what I’m looking for at all and definitely don’t appear to be Ashford’s. A closer look at the bag reveals to me that it’s not the same bookbag I witnessed on him during his first day at school. 

 He must not have brought it since there didn’t look to be another room at first sight. Defeated and dejected, I set the bag down gently. My skin starts to tingle with awareness and I perk my ears up to hear only silence. I realize it’s too quiet and I never heard a door shut or anything. I turn around slowly and my breath leaves me as my eyes make out a dark figure leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed.  

“Find what you were looking for in poor Mary’s bag?” he mutters with amusement and thinly veiled irritation.