Amnesia // a.i

"God damn it, Kaitlynn." He grabs my hand and places it over his chest, directly above his heart. "Feel it? Feel how out-of-beat and fast it is? That's what you do to me. Why can't you see how much I love you?" His eyes are glossed over.
Shit. Yes. Yes, okay, I'll admit it. I see how much he loves me, but.. But nothing, my subconscious remarks. Kiss him. I inwardly nod at my subconscious and quickly lean up and kiss him, taking him by surprise. It feels like minutes pass before we pull away from each other, both completely breathless. "Because I love you, too."
My name is Kaitlynn Stilinski. My dad abandoned my family when I was 5, and when I turned 7, my mum forced me to live in Australia with my aunt, Kathryn. This is the only story that I've ever known that was mine for once in my life; this is the story of Amnesia.

Copyright.© 2014 All rights reserved.


4. Chapter 4.

My eyes flutter open at the sudden rush of light that streaks through my unclothed sliding doors. I lazily sit up, using my elbows for balance, and rub the sleep out of my eye before looking around the room. Something feels different. Something is different. My breathing hitches in my throat as my eyes land on the limp body beside me, dead asleep. What the actual fuck? What happened? I look down at myself. Well, at least I've still got my clothes on. My eyes wander back to Luke. At least he's clothed too. Nothing like that happened, right? Even inwardly, my voice cracks as 'right?' is formed. Damn it. I throw my duvet off of my body and onto Luke, gently getting out of the bed so I don't wake him. I walk into my ensuite bathroom and turn on the water for the shower before closing and locking the door. I strip myself of my clothes and get in, immediately wetting my hair. I let the water trickle down my body, relaxing me and releasing me of any and all tension that had once occupied my body, moaning slightly in delight. That feels better. As I lather the shampoo and conditioner into my hair, I can't help but think about the past few days. Why was Luke such an asshole on the first day we met? And why was the other guy staring at Luke like he wanted to kill him, yet when he looked at me, his eyes softened and it was as if the thought of killing Luke never crossed his mind? Why was my father in my house that night, in Aunt Kathryn's room? What was he looking for? Was he even looking for something? Maybe he was just looking for something to steal? Why was Luke so damn worried about me? Why was he so serious the next day at school? He sounded worried but he would never actually admit that, would he? I remember his hand twitching, like he wanted to grab mine and hold it in his. Maybe he did? Maybe he didn't? And why the hell did he show up here last night? He surely did charm the damn knickers off of Aunt Kathryn, and I even found myself wanting to get closer to him, though I was sitting in the chair next to him. He had his hand closest to me underneath the table, and would ocassionally hold mine in his or would place his on my thigh, squeezing gently making me jump, or he would trace circles on top of it. Honeslty, I loved every second of it, but what I question the most, is why is he asleep in my bed? I don't remember even coming up here. I definitely don't remember him staying over, yet, here he is, in my room, in my bed, snuggled underneath my duvet with his head on my pillow. Our pillow. God, no. Not our's. Maybe I don't remember because I had a few drinks? Yes, that has to be it. I had had some wine at dinner, far too many glasses if you ask me, but I was uncomfortable and it felt awkward, though Luke's hand entwined with mine did calm some nerves. Honestly, I'd give anything to feel that way again. To have his hand coaxing mine, his thumb rubbing circles across the back of my hand gently. The way he traces those little patterns on my thigh before gently squeezing it. Anything, I'd give anything.

I finish my shower and step out, wrapping a towel around my body before making my way into my cupboard. I lean back enough to have full view of my bed, sighing of relief as I notice Luke still asleep. I'll wake him in a few. I pull out my undergarments, a pair of ripped black skinny jeans, and a Ramones t-shirt that has come to be one of my favorites. I step into my knickers before clasping my bra around my torso and stepping into my jeans. I button and zip the jeans before pulling my shirt over my head and down my torso. This feels right, the skinny jeans and band shirt. This is the most perfect combination in the world.

I smile before walking out of the cupboard and jumping on the bed, straddling Luke. "Luke. Hey, Luke. C'mon man, wake up," I whine. I lean down enough to whisper in his ear. "Lucas."

I lean back up quickly and watch his eyes flutter open, a slight grin making its way onto his face. "Morning."

"Ew," I complain, my hand flying to my nose to cover it. "God, before you try to talk to me, get rid of your morning breath. Oh my god, so gross," I tease, truth filling every word. I push myself off of him and flop onto the other side of the bed.

Before I can get off of the bed, Luke is repeating my actions that I did to him, sitting astride me. "What? You don't like it?" He leans down closer to me, exhaling a puff of his warm, disgusting morning breath into my face.

"Ew," I squeal. "No, get off of me!"

"Oh really?" he smirks. Oh god. What is he going to do? His hands move from the mattress to my sides. Oh god, no. Not that. Before I can even open my mouth to fight him, he bores his fingers into my sides, tickling me relentlessly, and I scream.

"Luke," I breathe. "Stop!" His relentless tickles only increase, causing more screaming and pleads to fall effortlessly from my mouth. "Luke!"

I guess I accidentally hit him, I don't know, but he stops, throwing his hands in the air in defeat. "Geez, no need to start throwing punches," he laughs.

"Sorry," I giggle. "Actually, I'm not sorry," I smirk. "And you're going to spend all day today with me, proving yourself worthy of forgiveness after that stunt you just pulled."

"What stunt? Oh, you mean this one?" He smirks and the question is barely out of his mouth before his hands are at my sides again, tickling me. Though this time, his hands don't stay there, they roam, tickling nearly every inch of my body. He smiles in accomplishment as he tickles the backs of my knees, realizing I'm most ticklish there.

I can barely breathe now, out of breath from all the tickling. "Luke," I gasp, near inaudible. His relentless tickles cease at the sound of my strangled and out-of-breath voice.

"I'm done," he says, smiling sweetly, and leans down to kiss the tip of my nose. Oh my god. My insides flutter at the sweet gesture, and I find myself melting, literally, beneath him. Holy shit. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks, knowing that they've flushed, and I look up at Luke. He notices, and smiles sweetly once more, a slight laugh in his smile like someone had said the word "masturbate." God. This is my new favorite Luke, playful and adorable as shit, and that's my new favorite smile. Before my brain can process what my body is doing, my hands find their way to the nape of his neck, pulling him down to me and crashing my lips onto his.

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