“Clearly.”

“It was a big part of the reason we ended up moving away from Chicago for a few years. She couldn’t stay out of trouble.” I was always the easy child growing up. Cinny was the one who got into all the trouble. Apart from that one party.

We start walking again.

“So I didn’t commit a felony, which is good. Did I talk to you?”

It hurts that he doesn’t remember at all. “In a manner of speaking.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“One of my sister’s friends was playing a game. I didn’t realize what it was until it was too late.” I have to look anywhere but him in order to get out the rest. “They were playing Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

Lance comes to a dead stop again. I don’t want to look up, but I have to because he’s not moving. “You got locked in a closet with some high school douche when you were twelve?”

“Almost thirteen.” As if that makes it better. “I didn’t get locked in there with a douche; I got locked in there with you.”

“For seven minutes?”

“Yes.”

“Did we make out? Wait. Don’t answer that. We’re close to your house, right?”

“It’s down the street.”

He laces his fingers through mine and tugs. “Come on.”

“What are you doing?”

“Hoping to jog my memory.”

When we reach my door, it takes me a minute to find my keys since they’re stuck at the bottom of my purse. Then I fumble and drop them on the mat.

Lance bends down to grab them. “Here. Let me get it.”

When the door swings open, he pushes past me into my foyer. He goes straight for the hall closet, opening the door and parting the hangers.

“What’re you doing?”

He laces my fingers with his. “I want you to show me.”

“Show you wh—”

He steps into the closet and pulls me inside with him, closing the door behind us.

A hat falls from the hook inside the door, and I bat it away in the dark. “This is a really weird way to end a first date.” I’m so nervous right now.

“Just go with it.” He brings my fingers to his lips.

“What am I supposed to be showing you, apart from the inside of my closet?” My heart is beating so hard.

“What our first kiss was like. I want to remember it the way you do,” he pleads.

“You were probably drunk.”

“There’s a good chance. But I’m not now. Please.”

I can tell him no. He won’t push me for something I’m not willing to give freely. But I recognize the vulnerability in this. In him. It makes me want to see if I can resurrect the sweet boy inside this closed man who stole my heart so many years ago.

My biggest fear is falling for real this time. I don’t really know him or understand the crazy life he seems to lead. I never have, and I’m not a kid anymore, but actually spending time with him has pulled me way beyond any romantic fantasies.

I pull out my phone and key in the code.

“What are you doing?”

“Setting a timer.”

“What for?”

“Because I’m re-creating the moment, and this is what you did.”

“I set a timer?”

“You honestly don’t remember at all?”

He cups my face in his hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t make a lot of nice memories before I got drafted, especially not when I first moved to Chicago. I had to shut a lot of things out. Please give me this one good thing back?”

He’s so sincere. What’s more, he’s so very sad. It makes me want to know what could’ve been so bad that he’d choose to forget everything he could.

“Okay.” I cut the light on my phone, submerging us in darkness again. It’s easier to do this if I can’t see his face.

I can feel him playing with the ends of my hair. “Why did I set a timer?”

“You were being sweet. I was freaked out. You set an alarm so you wouldn’t lose face—those were your words. I didn’t understand what you meant at the time, but then you started asking me questions. I told you my name.”

“Poppy like the flower,” he whispers.

My stomach does a little flip at the thought that maybe he does remember. “That’s what you said to me.”

“I did?”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “And you asked me how old I was. I lied and said I was fourteen. You were turning fifteen the next day.”

“Why would you lie, pretty Poppy?” His fingers are light, following the contour of my lips.

Is he playing with me? It’s like he’s giving me back the words he used all those years ago. I don’t want this to be a game for him. It’s not for me.

“I knew you wouldn’t kiss me if you knew I was only twelve.”

“Fuck. No, I wouldn’t have. I guess I’m glad you lied then.”

“I’m not twelve anymore, so it’s fine. And even then, I made the choice to be in there with you. I remembered you from the year before, when you went to my school. I thought you were cute. Anyway—” I swallow thickly at the feel of his fingers trailing along my neckline. His light touch sends my mind spinning into the past, and heat rushes through me. “You asked me if I’d ever been kissed before.”

“And what did you say?”