Remember Me?

I met his eye across the room. I couldn’t quite believe it, to be honest, but I knew I had to if I was to get what I wanted… or, at least, attempt to. I drained my glass and tried to still my shaking hands, but the more I went through my plan of action in my head, the worse the nervous sweating got. I’d be a puddle by the time I got there, I was sure, never mind the LA heat that still lingered in the air-conditioned bar… still, I steeled myself, taking a final breath, and set off across to the other side of the bar.

“Hi! Can I have a glass of water, please?” I asked the barman, who gave me a quizzical look.

“Sure,” he frowned, shaking his head.

“Too much to drink?” his voice. Oh GOD, his voice! I turned and put on my best subtle-yet-stunning-and-best smile.

“A little, yeah,” I laughed, leaning against the bar.

“Shame,” he said, finishing his drink. “I saw you watching me from over there… nice pick-up, by the way.” He winked at me, and my entire body flushed beetroot.

“Oh – n-no – what?!” I was flustered. The plan had failed! I turned away and hid my face. “Oh, God… I bet you think I’m a right arse.”

“No, actually. I was going to finish this and come to you… but you came over here with that gem. What was it going to be?” he leaned back in his chair, but the soft, wry smile on his lips was promising. I looked at him through my fingers.

“Ugh. Alright, you got me. I was going to come over and ask for a glass of water, pretend like I’d had a drink too many, and see if you’d pick up what I put down…”

“Ahh, and then I’d be a bit sad because I could have offered you a drink, and you’d have said no, but been soberly interested anyway?” All I could do was nod. “Genius. Honestly, that’s the best one I’ve ever had.” He held his hand out. I took it. “Mark.”

“Emma,” I replied gently. He kissed my knuckles (and yes, I did scream internally), and ran his thumb over them.

“Beautiful, brainy, and incredibly witty,” he grinned. “I guess I owe you a drink, then?”

“Out of pity?” I asked, smirking. “Or because you find me so genuinely beguiling and are desperate to get to know me better?”

“Hmm… I think I’ll let you figure that one out.” Mark laughed despite himself, and ordered two more drinks – a whiskey and coke for himself, and my preferred Belgian beer. “Sit, sit… here.” He pulled a barstool over for me, and watched me slide gracefully onto it. “So… Emma… what’s your introduction spiel?” I pressed my lips together.

“Well… you mean like quick-fire about me?”

“Sure. Key facts. Then it’s my turn.”

“Gotcha.” I straightened up, adjusting my dress. “Emma Grey, twenty-nine years old, professional photographer and digital artist, from England. Single and ready to mingle. Avid blanket-lover, no pets, enjoyer of cosy nights in with Netflix and a huge pizza, or popcorn, or both. Dog person, but will tolerate cats. Pringles over Doritos, unless it’s the flamin’ hot ones. Not a lover of alcohol, but Belgian beer is where it’s at.” Mark nodded, musing something for a second.

“Interesting, interesting.”

“Your turn.” I didn’t actually have to even ask him anything. I remembered most of it.

“Alright. Mark Fenton, thirty-one, but acts thirteen half the time. Also single, also ready to mingle. Proud Ohioan, but I moved here a while ago to pursue video production and content creation. Proud owner of a Golden Retriever, named Chica. Definitely a dog person. Also a blanket-lover, but gaming instead of Netflix marathons. And you can keep your Pringles. Doritos are where it’s at, always.” He gave me a goofy grin, and I laughed.

“Well, it’s a pleasure, Mark.”

“Believe me, the pleasure’s mine.”

The evening grew into dinner, and then that grew into us being kicked out of the place, unsure of what was going to happen next. I wanted to do something more, to either take him back to my place, or go back to his, but something wasn’t sitting right with me.

He had no clue who I was. And the more I thought of the evening we’d just spent, the more I felt like a total fraud. As we walked along the well-lit streets of Silverlake to where we’d both parked, Mark slid his hand into mine. I looked up at him, but he wasn’t looking at me, only a soft smile on his lips gave away how he was feeling. I didn’t want to ruin this! This was everything I’d imagined it to be! And more! We arrived at my car a little too soon for my liking.

“Well…” Mark murmured, his eyes crinkling at the sides as he smiled. My heart swelled and fell simultaneously. My face must have reflected something, because his smile faded. “Are you alright?” His genuine concern made me feel even more sick. I nodded and looked away. “What is it? Did I do something wrong?”

“No… no.” I sighed, closing my eyes. “I… I just realised you don’t recognise me, do you?”

“What?”

“You don’t recognise me. You don’t remember me.” I chanced a look at him, and some relief came over me: he wasn’t angry. Yet.

“What do you mean? Should I recognise you?” he stepped back to give me a bit of space. Even when I’d first met him, he was a gentleman like that. Never too forward, never too handsy, always respectful of everyone and everything.

“I… I’d hoped you would.” I gave him a smile.

“Alright… well… I’m going to need a bit of help…” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and stood next to me. Non-confrontational. I wanted to kiss him. I took a breath in and, for the second time that night, steeled myself.

“We met a while back. At… at VidCon. In twenty-sixteen. I was there on contract as one of the official photographers, on the ground… we met, I took some of you and your fans… and then we chatted for a bit over lunch.” I held myself. “We got along really well, actually. You asked for my card…” I shrugged. It had been five years, how could he remember me?! Really?! Especially after nearly two years of a freaking global pandemic?!

“You mean to say you’ve known who I am all evening?” he looked at me with a strange mix of incredulity and something else I couldn’t put my finger on.

“I know who you are, yeah, but I don’t know what you actually do.” Then, it hit me. I looked up and stepped back. “No! NO! God no – don’t get me wrong! I’m not a superfan or anything!” I put my hands to my mouth. “Seriously. After I met you I watched one or two videos… not really my thing…” I wasn’t sure if telling the truth to that extent was going to ruin any chances.

“Oh…” he seemed to visibly relax. “So you literally just remember taking photos?”

“Yeah. Believe me.” I spoke evenly, maintained eye contact with those deep, melting, chocolate-brown eyes that I just wanted to stare into while he –

“That’s…” he laughed, shaking his head. He rubbed his face. “That’s a relief. I thought for a minute you were going to tell me you were a fan.”

“No offence, but no.” I gave him a sweet smile.

“Well then, Emma, in that case, forgive me for not remembering such a lovely individual.” He turned to me, and held his hand out. “I’m truly sorry.”

“It’s alright,” I whispered, taking his hand. “I have changed a bit in five years, actually. I used the lockdowns well…” I smirked.

“Oh?”

“Yeah… lost a load of body fat… leaned up… grew strong…” I stepped right to him and dared to run my hands over his own broad arms, squeezing his muscles a little.

“Hmm… and I suppose you’d be willing to show off your hard work at some point?” his eyes, when I looked up at him, were almost black. I bit my lip.

“I’m glad you’re spending what I’m spilling.”

“So I can also rightly deduce that a second date’s on the cards?”

“Only if this one has to end.”

“Are you saying you’d rather not end this one?” he pulled me a little closer. I grinned and laughed nervously.

“Well… I guess it depends really.”

“On what?”

“Are you going to forget to call me if I go home alone?” Mark burst out laughing.

“Oh, no, not this time… no. Because I’m taking you out for breakfast tomorrow.”

“Hmm, sure…” I chuckled. I reached up and kissed him softly.

“I’m serious. Meet me at Tilly’s. Ten o’clock.”

I wish I could say we ended up meeting for breakfast. But we both got into our cars, and then when he drove off first, he reversed, rolled his window down, and gave me a harrowed look.

“Alright! Alright! I’ll follow you home!” I burst out laughing.

We didn’t meet for breakfast the next morning, because we didn’t have to.