Unremembered (Unremembered #1)(27)

Tears.

Snot.

No clothes.

It’s only then I realize I haven’t yet gotten dressed. Logic tells me that I should care. If people were meant to be seen in their underwear they wouldn’t have these dressing rooms with locks on the doors.

But I don’t care.

The only thing that bothers me about this situation is the fact that it doesn’t seem to bother me. Not in the slightest.

Another item to add to my list of abnormalities.

But I grab the purple dress from the hanger and hold it over my exposed body anyway. Just for show.

He smiles at my attempt. As though he knows it’s an act. ‘I’ve seen it all before,’ he says. His smile quickly fades and is replaced with a look of sincerity. ‘And it’s still beautiful.’

I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know if I want to talk to him. I can’t deal with this right now.

I have to get out of here.

I throw the dress over my head and pull the hem down to my knees.

He watches the fabric fall around my legs. And his endearing smile returns. ‘It’s nice to see you in something other than those boring grey things you always wore.’

The clothes I was wearing when they found me. The ones Kiyana packed up for me in a brown paper bag.

He knows about them.

But I don’t care. Regardless of what the note says, regardless of what the gate agent told me, regardless of the way his eyes seem to heat my skin and melt my insides, I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to trust him. I don’t want to believe anything he has to say. I just want to buy some normal clothes, go home to a normal, loving family and try to live a normal life.

I reach for the door. He doesn’t try to stop me. He simply says, ‘You went to the airport.’ As though it’s a well-known fact.

‘So?’ I mutter, pushing past him.

‘So now you know that I was telling you the truth. That you weren’t on the plane.’

‘No. I don’t know that.’ I move up the row of empty stalls, determined to get out of here. But something stops me. I turn around. ‘Wait a minute. How did you know I went to the airport?’ My eyes widen in horror. ‘Have you been following me?’

He shrugs as though this is not important. ‘I had to make sure you were safe. It’s my job to protect you.’

‘Your job?’

‘Well,’ he says, ‘it’s not an official title. Just something I swore to do once. Even if you don’t remember it, I’m still determined to keep that promise.’

I run my tongue over my front teeth as I try to control my temper. This boy, despite his ability to crawl into the deep back pockets of my mind and stay there, is really getting on my nerves. I sigh. ‘Protect me from who? These people who are supposedly looking for me but whom I’ve yet to see?’

‘Yes.’ His face turns solemn. Like a cloud has passed over it. He gestures towards my left wrist. ‘The same people who gave you that.’

With a sharp inhale, I glance down at the razor-thin black line and try to conceal it with my other hand. ‘Just because you know about my tattoo doesn’t mean—’

‘It’s not a tattoo.’

I’m fairly certain I already knew that.

‘It’s a tracking device,’ he continues.

I shake my head. I know I should keep walking. Turn my back on this boy forever and keep trying to forget he even exists. But something compels me to ask, ‘Who are you?’

‘My name is Lyzender.’

Just as I suspected. This means nothing to me. ‘I don’t recognize that name,’ I say flatly.

I expect his face to drop. I expect to see disappointment in his eyes.

But I don’t.

He appears as determined as ever. He moves towards me, takes my hand, holds it, squeezes it. Despite my impulse to flee, I don’t pull away. His touch is warm. Comforting. Almost . . . familiar.

‘You wouldn’t recognize that name,’ he consents. ‘You always called me Zen. You said it was because I brought you peace.’

A shiver runs up my legs. It weakens my spine. My body starts to crumple. I fight to stand upright.

Lyzender. Zen. Z.

Seraphina. Sera. S.

S + Z = 1609.

My breath quickens. I try to speak but no words seem able to take shape. My mouth feels dry. Rough. I rub my tongue against the roof until I feel saliva start to form again.

I think of my conversation with Cody – the one we had on the bus to Los Angeles – and I manage to ask, ‘Are you . . . uh . . . were you my boyfriend?’

His almond-shaped eyes squint as he smiles. He squeezes my hand again. ‘I’d like to think I was more than that.’

‘What do you mean?’

I watch the colour of his face change. It doesn’t turn the same shade of red that I’ve witnessed on Cody’s skin so many times, but there is a clear tint of scarlet flushing his cheeks. He casts his eyes downward. ‘You told me I was your soulmate.’

The way he says soulmate, I realize it means something. Something important.

Mate: one member of a pair.

Soul: the principle of life, feeling, thought and actions in humans; regarded as a distinct entity separate from the body.

I glance anxiously down at his hand on mine. ‘I don’t know what that is.’