"Haaah~" Jenny's breathy moan filled the cramped space as I kissed her deeper, exploring every corner of her mouth. I still couldn't piece together how we got here—one moment we were leaving the cafeteria, the next she'd suggested finding somewhere private to talk, and then... this. Wherever the hell "this" was.
When she'd locked the door and thrown herself at me, I'd tried to stop her. But my body responded on instinct, like kissing her was muscle memory, something I'd done a thousand times before. The intensity overwhelmed me completely.
Now I was perched on a desk with her legs locked around my waist, sucking the air from my lungs. My shirt had vanished—no clue where—and hers hung in tatters after I'd accidentally torn it in the heat of the moment.
"Hah... hah... hah..." She pulled back, gasping for air, then immediately captured my lips again. Her hips ground against my crotch, driving me closer and closer to the point of no return.
"Wait...!" I shoved her back. A thin string of saliva connected us. "What the hell are we doing? We shouldn't—"
Her face was flushed crimson, chest heaving. "Why?" She frowned. "Why shouldn't we?"
I tried to catch my breath enough to answer, but she dove back in without restraint, arms locked around my neck. Christ, was she trying to suffocate me?
"STOP!" I pushed her away again, face burning. I couldn't see myself, but judging by how red she was, I probably looked the same.
"WHY ARE YOU STOPPING ME?!" Her voice cracked. "FIRST YOU IGNORE MY CALLS AND AVOID ME FOR A WEEK, THEN YOU ACT LIKE WE'RE STRANGERS, AND NOW YOU DON'T WANT THIS ANYMORE?!"
Shit. What the hell was I supposed to do? Just go with it? But something felt wrong.
*[I advise you not to entertain those thoughts,]* the voice in my head interjected.
I frowned internally. *'What do you mean?'*
*[Look, there are situations you need to let play out. Sometimes morality becomes a burden that gets you killed. Remember—you are not the protagonist of this world.]*
Welp, she's actually right. My situation didn't give me the luxury of choice. If I didn't take advantage of every opportunity, eventually there'd be none left, and I'd be truly fucked. But still... what I really needed was someone I could trust. Someone who could help fill in the massive gaps in my memory.
"It's not that I don't want to," I said carefully.
"THEN WHAT?!"
I cupped her face, forcing her to meet my eyes. "I can't remember anything."
Her expression crumbled. "...What?"
"I can't remember anything, Jenny. Who I am, who you are, what any of this is. I'm completely blank."
For twenty full minutes, she just sat there on my lap, silent.
"You mean... you can't remember who you are?" she finally whispered.
I nodded. "Nothing. Not even you."
---
"When did it start?"
"I don't know. I can't remember."
She sighed heavily. "This doesn't make any sense. How do you just lose your memory like that?"
I shrugged helplessly.
We were in her dorm room now—an unnecessarily huge space divided into three sections: kitchen, living room, and bedroom. Currently we sat on the massive bed she'd insisted was "totally normal sized."
She'd changed into a red-and-black checkered shirt that hung halfway down her thighs, sleeves rolled back to expose slender forearms. The top two buttons were undone, offering a glimpse of the white tank top underneath. She wore shorts beneath—I noticed them when she'd crossed her legs. Only now did I spot the small pink crystal ball earrings she wore.
"That's why you wouldn't pick up," she muttered to herself, then looked at me. "Where's your phone?"
I raised an eyebrow. "I have a phone?"
"Yes, you do. I got you one last year."
"Oh. So not everyone has them?"
She shook her head. "Phones here aren't exactly cheap. Plus we're not allowed to have them during lectures or exercises, so most people leave them in their dorms."
"Then mine should be there."
"Hopefully," she sighed, then went quiet.
"Um... can you tell me important stuff I should know? Without my memory, I feel like a complete idiot most of the time." I laughed weakly.
She grabbed my hand. "It's alright. I'll help you get those memories back. They're important to both of us—I can't have you forgetting you started all this." She gave me a cat-like squint. "How else can I make you take responsibility?"
"Uh... sure."
She smiled, then her expression sharpened. "That said—I DON'T WANT YOU LOOKING AT ANGEL."
I rolled my eyes. "This again? She's Michael's girlfriend. Looking at her doesn't mean anything."
She shook her head. "I knew something was wrong when you kept staring at her like that. Seems you don't remember that either."
I frowned. "Remember what?"
Her voice dropped. "...That Angel used to be your roommate."