Page 100 of Remember Me

Hi Charlotte

I’m Jake and I am 10 years old like you; my birthday is soon though. I was hoping you would be a boy, and we could talk about Hockey, but I read you love Harry Potter and that is even better because none of my friends like it.

What’s it like living in Portland? I bet it’s cool. I live in the city, so I don’t get to go to the beach a lot which sucks. Also, what Hogwarts house are you? I’m going to guess you’re a Hufflepuff? I am of course a Gryffindor.

You said you don’t have many friends, well now you have me.

Can I call you Lottie?

Jake

Recognition dawns on me. I remember receiving that letter. I remember sitting in class and Mrs. Snowden telling us about the pen pal program.

I was so excited to maybe have another friend other than Wren to talk to. Don’t get me wrong, I love Wren, but sometimes I felt like it would have been nice to have more than one friend.

I remember sitting at my desk writing my letter to this anonymous person, hoping it would lead to something special—and boy, did it. I remember telling them about my love of Harry Potter and how I had very few friends.

Tears stream down my face at the memory. Just as I’m swiping at my eyes, Jake walks in.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

Chapter 67

Jake

Walking into Lottie’s house, which feels an awful lot like our house recently, and seeing her crying on the couch isn’t what I was expecting.

She still hasn’t answered me as she tries to get herself together, and then I notice the box at her feet, the journals and letters scattered around her. She’s finally read them. I know they’re all from our school days before we actually met in person, but I hope they’ve given her a real insight into how deep our friendship ran.

Taking a seat beside her, I wipe the tears away from her cheeks with my thumbs as she closes her eyes at my touch.

“I was just thinking about how this is all so unfair, you know?” she sniffles.

You can say that again.

“This must be so heartbreaking for you, J, you have all these memories of us.” She points to the letters and journals. “And I remember only snippets. It’s so cruel to you.”

“Hey now, it’s not only cruel to me, baby, but also you. Don’t forget that. I don’t care what you remember or what you don’t. Just that you’re here with me right now, and I’m loving where we are and how things are between us.”

She nods. “Me too.” Her eyes are still watery, but she manages to offer me a small smile.

“Tell you what, why don’t you have a nice bath while I cook dinner, and then we can sit and go through the letters together, maybe provide some context?”

“I’d really love that. Can we have that prawn linguine for dinner?” Her eyes have gone from sad to pleading, and who am I to deny this girl?

“Sure thing.” I give her a quick kiss on the lips and walk off to start running the bath for Lottie.

Then, I crack on with the food. Bella, my diligent sous chef, is by my side the whole time, just in case I need a taste tester.

As I’m setting the plates on the table, Lottie comes walking out in one of my hockey jerseys. Just my hockey jersey by the look of it, and I nearly swallow my tongue. She looks like my ultimate fantasy come to life. I can’t tell you how many wet dreams I’ve had of her dressed like this. And there she is, sashaying toward me like she has no clue of the effect she has on me.

“J? Are you alright?” she asks, probably wondering why I’ve not said anything in about five minutes.

I go to open my mouth, but nothing comes out, so I’m left here looking like a flapping fish as she comes closer. Every step closer to me she gets, my dick gets harder and harder. Calm down, Jake, don’t maul her at the dinner table.

“I-I, y-you are in my jersey,” I manage to croak out.

She tilts her head to the side. “Have I never worn your jersey in front of you before?”