The Prince and the Plant Whisperer

The Intimacy Experiment (Worst Memory)

[~Posted 4/1/21]

[A/N: trigger warning, grief/loss/memories of death. it'll come up here and there through the rest of the book, be forewarned.]

Kai's sense of dread is rising.

This question! What is your most terrible memory?

Lukas says, "OK, I'll go first. We were at Ocean Park. In Hong Kong. I must've been about seven. With my sister, mom, dad. Our parents stepped away to get ice cream for everyone. They told me to watch my sister. But then, I got distracted, and my sister was suddenly gone—"

He continued: "When my parents came back, my dad said, "This is your fault!"

".. I still remember his voice when he said that."

Kai breathes: "Your sister—did she turn up?"

"She'd just wandered over to a water fountain nearby—we found her. But I never forgave myself," he says. "It's the last time I'll ever screw up with someone—"

He was about to say, with someone I love.

A smile flashes over his face, like a reflex, as if to acknowledge how cheesy his words would have sounded.

He doesn't know it, but his smile is so magnetic that it draws the gazes of people all around. Women from across the room notice the handsome male student — and then also notice the glowing woman across from him. Who is this couple? What's going on between them?

Lukas responds: "Your turn."

What is your most terrible memory.

Right.

Kai keeps her full body very, very still, and her gaze fixed on the fire dancing in the fireplace just past Lukas's shoulders.

In a very flat monotone, she says, "On October 5th, last year, my parents passed away in a car accident. It was... not a great memory."

And then she breathes out.

OK.

She really doesn't want to make a scene. Not in front of strangers.

"Oh," Lukas says. His jaw is working, in thought. "October 5. That's in three days."

Three days? Almost a year?

I've almost made it through one year?

"Right. I guess so. Three days." says Kai. Her desire to see her parents again throbs like a dull headache inside her.

He asks: "Are you... doing anything that day?"

She shrugs. Mute. Staring down at the tip of her sneaker.

That sounds like the wrong question! he thinks. Like someone's trying to ask her on a date, on the anniversary of her parents' death? You idiot.

So he rephrases:

"Will you be ok?"

She just nods, her gaze fixed miserably on her shoes.

For the longest time—

Then she looks up at him, and forces a happy smile.

"Anyway," she says abruptly. "Let's continue..."

. . * * * * . . . . . .
. . . . * * * * . . . .
. . . . . . * * * * . .

So they move onward through this list of questions.

He's watching her, as they plow ahead with the assignment. This whole time, it's felt like they've been linked together in a joint trance.

And now, that trance has shifted.

It's like she's taken a dazed step toward a darkness she almost can't bear. But she's let him come along to witness it. He feels like he shouldn't even breathe, in case it interrupts things.

They're quiet, just listening to the sound of rain intensify, splashing on the windows.

He finally exhales, watching her, Her miserable eyes, half hidden by a cascade of black hair that he wants to push away from her face.

She's so graceful without realizing it. So indifferent to her own beauty. Hiding it, even.

I'm starting to understand who you are, he thinks.

Your two-person group of friends.

Your absence on social media...

Your faraway existence

Your plants—

You're spending all your free time in a place where you won't lose any more people.

Somehow, he wants to thank her—for showing all that.

This darn psychology experiment, he thinks. What a powerful weapon! He almost feels guilty—

—guilty at the advantage it's giving him, compared to other men around her.

However...

... before they started, he did ask if she'd wanted to just stand up and leave. And she chose to stay with him and do this.

The thought fills him with wonder and a wave of desire

So they move on. Next question. Next.

Next—

Next...

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🌱🌱🌱🌱🌱

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