Scarlet groaned inwardly. So close.
“Would you like a KissPop?” the voice asked. Scarlet glanced to the side to see a round woman with friendly eyes and rosy cheeks pushing a dessert cart. She held up a Popsicle shaped like a pair of lips.
Scarlet was really starting to hate the Kissing Festival.
“Uh, no thank you.” Scarlet tried to look friendly despite her frustration with the interruption. Once the cheery woman wheeled away, Scarlet glanced back to the stranger, hoping the sight of him would magically reignite her lost memory.
He stared at her for a long moment and Scarlet’s heart lifted at his gaze.
The memory peeked out from the depths of her brain again and her thoughts went wild in its pursuit.
Come on, I know you’re in there.
The boy in black continued to look upon her with his shining eyes.
Almost like he knew his presence sparked a memory for her. Like he was waiting for her to remember.
Like he was…challenging her.
Scarlet took a step forward. Maybe she would just walk over to him. Maybe she would introduce herself to him and see if he knew anything about her.
She took a few more steps. Maybe if she got close enough to see his face clearly—
“Leaving so soon?” This time, the voice was male and came from behind her.
Scarlet paused.
The voice at her back was familiar.
Beautifully, impossibly familiar. Reminiscent.
Almost perfect.
It wasn’t the voice of someone she’d met since waking up in Avalon.
It was a voice of the past. A voice she knew.
What is going on tonight? Why does everything suddenly seem so familiar?
Scarlet let her gaze linger on the boy in black for a moment before turning around to see the keeper of the familiar voice, fully expecting a surge of memories to rush to her head.
But no.
There was no flash of memory, no sudden burst of enlightenment.
There was no instant recognition or flood of relief.
There was, however, a really gorgeous guy standing in front of her. Possibly the most attractive person she’d ever seen.
Wearing a blue shirt and a disarming smile, he looked to be a little older than Scarlet. His dark hair, square jaw, and deep brown eyes complimented the tan skin that wrapped around his broad frame flawlessly.
He was smiling at her. Waiting.
She blinked a few times. “What?”
His smile deepened, revealing two adorable dimples, as he took a step toward her. “You looked like you were about to leave.”
Scarlet looked over to where the boy in black had been but, once again, he’d disappeared. “Oh.” She shook her head, bringing herself back to the conversation. “No, I…I wasn’t leaving.”
“Well, in that case,” the beautiful boy said, holding out his hand, “I’m Gabriel. Kissing Festival virgin and reality TV fan. I like long walks on the beach and hate waking up before noon.”
Scarlet smiled, both grateful and disappointed he chose to greet her with a handshake instead of a kiss—what is wrong with me? She took his hand. “I’m Scarlet. Kissing Festival protester and avid coffee-drinker. I like to draw and I’m not a morning person either.”
“I like you already,” Gabriel said as they shook hands.
His hand felt cool and dry in the warmth of the summer night and he flashed his dimples at her.
She tucked her lips in and pressed down, suddenly rethinking the baggy green shirt.
They ended their handshake and Gabriel shoved his hands into the front pockets of his perfectly-fitting jeans.
“So, you’re not a fan of the festival?” he asked with a sparkle in his eyes. “Too many guys to fend off?”
“Uh, no. It’s not the ‘guys’ I’m worried about. It’s the whole town. Everyone is so..,” Scarlet tried to think of a nicer word than “wacky”.
Gabriel prompted, “Happy? In love? Giddy?”
“Yes. It’s so weird,” Scarlet said. “I came last year, and vowed never to return again. But my best friend shamelessly begged me to come and I totally caved. And now I’m surrounded by,” Scarlet gestured to the crowd in the park, “all these love-sick goobers.”
Gabriel laughed. “Yeah, I hate love-sick goobers. They’re so happy and annoying and pleasant…always trying to be nice and friendly.” He rolled his eyes dramatically. “It’s so irritating.”
Scarlet smiled. “Shut up.”
“So, why did you vow never to return? Was it the dentist guy? Because that’s totally understandable.”
Scarlet laughed. “You saw him too? He’s creepy, right?” She smiled to herself. Something about talking to this guy made her feel lighthearted. Refreshed.
“Totally.” Gabriel gave a fake shudder, making her laugh.
She answered, “No, actually, I didn’t want to come back because last year I watched the kissing relay games and nearly threw up. That’s why I tried my very hardest to stay at home tonight.”
“And when you say your ‘very hardest’, you’re referring to your complete lack of resolve when caving to your best friend, correct?”
Scarlet nodded. “Precisely.”
Gabriel laughed. “I like you Scarlet…?” he prompted for her last name.
“Jacobs.” Although he was a complete stranger, Gabriel made her feel safe and, for some reason, Scarlet instinctively trusted him.
Which was probably dumb.
But she couldn’t help herself. Something about him made her feel…normal.
And so help her, Scarlet wanted to feel normal.
“Scarlet Jacobs,” he said, thinking it over. “I like it.”
“And yours is…?” she asked.
Gabriel smiled slowly, waiting a beat as if deciding how to answer. “Archer,” he said, eyeing her closely. “Gabriel Archer.”
Scarlet tilted her head to the side, wishing the name meant something to her in the same way his musical voice had.
But no.
“So,” he said, looking around with mock seriousness. “Where’s this conniving best friend of yours? I’d like to congratulate her on suckering you into attending this absurd festival of love and happiness.”
Scarlet smiled as she pointed to where Heather stood in line at one of the many kissing booths.
“Ah,” he said, nodding. “She looks like a love-sick goober. She looks happy.”
Scarlet smiled.
Heather was happy. Happy and bubbly and excited about everything. And beautiful in that Miss America way every girl envied.
She was nothing like Scarlet.
Heather was loud, outgoing, fashion-savvy, and girly.
While Scarlet was quiet, sarcastic, not interested jewelry and dressed like a boy.
But their friendship worked.
As different as they were, Scarlet felt more bonded to Heather than anyone else she’d met since waking up in Avalon.
Because Heather accepted Scarlet. Amnesia and all.
They’d met two summers ago at the mall, a few weeks before sophomore year began. Laura had taken Scarlet to buy a new wardrobe—since Scarlet’s slumber party in the woods hadn’t exactly come with a closet full of clothes—and had left Scarlet in charge of picking out her own attire.
Shopping nearby, Heather had seen Scarlet eyeing a pair of loose jeans and had immediately interjected herself into Scarlet’s life as her personal shopper.
Soon after they became close friends.
When Scarlet first told Heather about her amnesia, Heather had freaked out.
Not in the expected O-M-G-you’re-a-weirdo kind of way, but in an O-M-G-this-sounds-like-a-movie way.