The Girl on the Bridge

"Why do you do it?" I reach down to brush the scars on her thigh.

She stops breathing for five beats. "To feel something." She whispers.

I run my thumb against one particular scar. "Do you feel anything when we're together?" I have to know if what I'm doing is affecting her for the better. I have to. Otherwise, I don't know what else to do. I don't know how else to help her.

She turns to look at me and nods. "I feel everything when I'm with you."

We sit in silence, me trying to figure out if this is real and her trying to assure me that it is.

"You can't do that again." It should go without saying that I don't expect any argument on her part.

She is silent.

"You have to love and treat your body with the respect that it deserves." With all of the love that I want to give it. I want to tell her that but I don't want to involve my emotions in this. This is for her. All about her.

"Katy wants to take you to some workout class she teaches on the side." I rub her arms and smile. "You could use the cardio now that I'm going to be fucking you into oblivion."

Katy has been trying to get to know Emma better. Since she is the closest thing I have to a friend, she wants to make sure Emma is the right girl for me. If only she knew just how right she is for me. How perfect she is.

Her cheeks turn bright but she nods.

"Good girl." I kiss her deeply, spreading her out over the juices she sprayed all over my rug.

~~~~

{Emma}

On a particularly boring Friday night I decide to get out of the house.

Heather hasn't called in three days and I don't know how much longer I can take being here. Yes, I love my parents and spending time with them is nice but I want to go back to my own space. And yet, I don't know what I will do once I'm there, on my own. I basically quit my last job without even knowing, courtesy of my parents, so it is not like I have something to go back to.

I ask the driver to take me to my old apartment. It is two hours away from my parent's home. By the time I get there I will be tired enough to go to sleep and have to spend the night. I ask him to drive himself back today and I will call my parents tonight before they worry. He doesn't look too happy to be doing this but doesn't really have a choice.

The contrast between the suburbs and the city is mesmerizing.

My body hums as soon as I see the lights from a mile away. I'm submerged into the city life. The skyline, the smells, the people. This feels more like me. My leg bounces up and down in anticipation as we pull into a traffic lane. I see myself running across the bridge during my morning exercise. There is my favorite record store, I open the window and breathe in the aroma of hot dogs from the stand next to us. Memories are slowly coming back. I should have done this weeks ago. Of course, I wasn't going to remember my life after moving out if I just stayed with my parents. This is necessary, this will help me get more answers.

"I can get out here." I inform him.

"I should drive you all the way to your apartment." He insists. He is afraid I won't be able to find it. He's dreading what my parents will do when they find out what I did.

"I'm letting them know I came back to my place for the weekend. I have the address." I assure him as I take my phone out and shoot my mom a quick text. I turn my phone off right after sending it and hop out of the car at the next light.

There are signs, flashing lights, big screens, music, and laughter. It is sensory overload compared to the stillness I have been living in for the past couple of months.

"Hey lady, can you move?" Two guys holding a couch try to get past me.

I move out of the way and apologize.

My feet lead the way. My brain is catching up with all that is going on around me. My heart beats in synch with the drumming sound coming from the underground train. There is a guy playing on a plastic bucket, with a smile on his face. I give him some change and keep walking.

I know that my apartment is four blocks north. But my feet turn left at the next light instead of going straight. I know where I'm going. I don't know why. Maybe a night out will do me some good. Put some color on my cheeks or whatever my mom said. An art gallery doesn't sound as appealing as a movie or a nice bar but I walk with a purpose. Maybe I really like this gallery. Each step accelerates my heart beat and I enjoy the feeling.

I slow my pace when I see the line to get into the gallery.

It must be a top list artist.

Maybe I should just go to a bar instead. I walk to the back of the line and look around as I wait for it to move.

People talk about the peculiar artist, the emotionally moving art pieces in this new show. I bounce on the balls of my feet, looking for something else. Anything else that I can do for the rest of the night. Surely, I can find something better than spend the night staring at paintings. My feet stay glued to the sidewalk. I may as well be that green chewed up gum that has become one with the crack in the cement. I kick it with my foot, it's really struck there.

The line moves at a slow pace and just when I am about to leave, I am the next one up.

I follow the flow of bodies that start moving towards the right, into an open room.

The walls are white, the ceiling is made up of old, red, worn out bricks, and the paintings are dark. I practically glide against the smooth, cold, hard floor as I move from one painting to the next. I look around to make sure my jeans and black blouse are not too casual. The audience is a mixture of high class, snooty critics and interesting characters dressed to make a statement.

I move through each room, feeling more and more alone. Each painting has a dark element that leaves me floored. I am not an art critic. I don't know anything about perfect lighting or the right shades. I can't even recognize what is armature and what is considered gold but with these paintings I feel a lot. I am moved and pulled in a different direction if I stare at one for too long. I resonate with the woman in each painting. Despair, anger, hurt, loneliness. God...this is hitting a little too close to home.

Once I make it to the main room, I place a hand over my chest as I stare at the center piece that has a big audience surrounding it. I move further and further in to get a front row look. The artist is there. Explaining her inspiration.

She's wearing a black suit. Everything is black. Her shirt, shoes, hair, eyeliner. Eyes. She looks like she is all skin and bones. There is not an ounce of fat on her. Her eyes are sunken in, and she looks...tortured. A tortured artist, how fitting. I stare at her full lips and feel a familiar sensation in my stomach. It has been so long since I have thought about sex. And although she looks delicate, her paintings show she is capable of taking in a great deal of emotions and making masterpieces. She must be good with her hands.

Her eyes meet mine and she stops talking.

I look behind me to see who she is looking at but others turn to look at me too. My cheeks instantly burn bright and I look at my feet.

She recovers and finishes her speech. I peek up to see her bowing and asking everyone to enjoy her show.

She comes directly to me and looks upset.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice is low.

"I'm sorry?" My heartbeat rings in my ears. I try to go through each memory, every thought, anything that can help me remember this person, this face, those lips.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" She grabs me by my arm and leads me towards the back of the gallery. People stare and give us looks but she doesn't care.

She throws me into an office and slams the door shut behind us.

"Did you come to gloat, Emma?" Her cheeks are burning and she is glaring at me.

I move away from her, towards the middle of the room. There is a large desk, sofas, paintings but I can't focus on anything else but her eyes. I should be shaking in my boots, terrified that this stranger is looking at me like that but I don't feel scared. I feel hot. I lick my lips.

"I'm sorry, I think you have the wrong person." I move back when she tries to get closer.

"Are you laughing at me?" She scoffs. There is a hint of madness in her eyes.

I shake my head. She gets close again and this time I force myself to not shy away. I against every instinct in my body and allow her to get close to me. I stare at her and breathe in through my nose. I brace myself for whatever she is about to do.

She pulls me in and kisses me. This kiss... is everything. Too much really. Her lips are soft and warm, completely at odds with her harsh words. Inviting, in the most sensual way. I moan into her mouth, allowing her to hold the back of my head as her tongue explores my mouth. Her other hand snakes around my waist and I lean further into her warmth. She punishes me with her tongue, taking all of her anger out on me. I welcome it, allowing my tongue to dance with hers. With open arms and a bated breath, I let her do what she wants to me because this is the most alive I have felt in months.

Just by this kiss.

She pulls back too soon and looks at me with renewed anger.

"Is this why you came? To prove to yourself that you still have a hold over me?" She grabs my hand and forces it on her chest. I feel her heartbeat stutter under my palm. "To remind me that my heart is yours? That I am yours?"

"I-" My voice breaks and I feel my tears on the brim. What is happening?

"Damn you!" She kisses me again and I let my tears fall. I kiss her back with more urgency, begging her to take away this emptiness that I feel in my soul. To soothe the ache in my heart. To defuse the heat between my legs.

She pulls away from me and I almost fall trying to follow her lips. Deep, unsettling sobs tear from my throat and I use both hands to cover my mouth. What is this? What do I do with all of these emotions? Why does it tear me up to see her hurt so much? How can I be responsible when I don't even know who she is?

"Don't cry, Emma." She drops her arms and reaches for me. I see the regret in her eyes. Gone is the anger, all I see is guilt.

"Stop!" I move away and hold a hand out. "Don't touch me." Because I don't know you, but obviously my body does. It's messing with my head. My does my head know which way to turn when we kiss, or that she loves when my hands dig into her hair?

"I'm sorry. Please, don't cry. Baby, I'm so sorry." She doesn't try to touch me again.

The word of endearment catches me off guard. "Who are you?" I dig my hands into my hair. Am I going crazy? My forefinger rubs against the scar on my head.

She looks upset but I see the confusion peak through. "It's me. Camryn."

Camryn Lara. Famous artist, 28 years old, born and raised here. That rings a bell. But just the artist part. Not whatever else this is. Was she someone important to me? How is that possible if I haven't heard from her in over three months? My parents never mentioned her.

"What am I to you, Camryn?" My tears haven't stopped. I furiously wipe at them, trying to control my emotions.

"What?" She is concerned now. No more anger or guilt or hunger in her eyes. Just pure confusion.

"I was in an accident, did you know?" Where were you? I can't ask that though. I can't ask some random stranger why they weren't there in my time of need. She is just that. A stranger.

She crosses her arms. "Yes, I called every hospital in this city and every other city nearby when I didn't hear from you the next day."

She was the last person to see me? "The next day? What do you mean, what happened?"

"Your father forced me to leave when I finally found you."

I remember the person calling me, yelling for me in the hospital, it was her. "I mean, what happened the day before. Were we together?" If she has the answers, I need to know. I need to know what happened. How I ended up at the hospital. And why my parents did not let her see me. I also want to get away. To run in the other direction. She scares me. She makes me feel different.

She motions to the couch but I shake my head. "What happened to you? Why can't you remember anything? Are all of your memories gone?" She looks concerned and guilty again. I prefer her anger.

I shake my head. "I can't remember some things, big chunks of time. I don't remember what happened in the accident or what happened before. Or you. I can only remember my life until I moved out of my parent's place."

She runs a hand through her hair and turns away from me. There is pain in her voice. "Fuck!" She goes to the desk and pushes everything off it. "Oh, God. What did I do?" She pushes a chair away and slams her hands against her desk.

"Stop!" I move towards the door. I don't feel comfortable being here alone with her. Not for fear of being hurt, but for something much more unnerving. My lips are tingling. I want to hug her and make her suffering stop. How sick is that? What is wrong with me?

"I'm sorry." She rushes to me and I lean away from her. She has me trapped against the door with her body. "Baby, I'm sorry."

"What happened?" I grind through my teeth. Being so close to her is clouding my judgement. I smell the cologne on her. I taste her lips all over again. Her warmth draws me in. It is all so familiar and foreign at the same time. My heart races just by being near her.

"Emma, we need to talk about this somewhere else. On a more neutral ground. I really fucked up." She tries to cup my face but I move away. She sighs. "Please, let me take you out to lunch tomorrow. We can talk about everything."

I shake my head. "Tell me now or I'm leaving."

"Please don't, I just got you back." She looks desperate.

'You don't have me. I'm not yours." I correct her. The fear of losing myself in her dark pools make me push her off. "You stay away from me." I open the door and rush out of the room. I hear her yell my name but ignore her and everyone else staring at me as I rush out of the gallery.

~~~~

{Camryn}

"Are you feeling blue today?" I shift my gaze to the half-naked girl on my couch.

Emma leans up and stretches her arms over her head. Her breasts rise up and down with each breath. They can be very hypnotizing.

I move back to my painting and brush a few more strokes on the canvas.

We're in my rented art studio. There are a ton of paintings all over the walls, on the floor, in cabinets. But nothing that I find worthy of being in my next show. The painting I'm currently working on has potential, I just need to keep my head in the game.

My biggest distraction crawls on the cold floor until she is kneeling in front of me.

Three weeks of us fucking like bunnies and I still get butterflies when she looks at me with that intense hunger. Few emotions reflect from those green eyes of hers, but when they do, it is magnificent. Something I have been fortunate to see develop with our time together.

"May I make you feel good?" She leans in and pushes her nose in between my legs. I'm only wearing my underwear and a white button up that is currently unbuttoned. We would make a beautiful painting.

"Don't ignore my question." I use the other end of my brush to motion for her to look up at me.

Her eyes are hungry. But she had a look on the couch that I have seen a few times. Not as much as before, but it still comes around when she has too much time to overthink. She floats away and I have to catch her before she leaves me completely.

"This is too good to be true." She doesn't hesitate as much to speak her mind like she did before either.

Earning her trust has given me that. I get her unfiltered thoughts. I have been there when she needs me and give her space when she wants it. I have yet to let her down or say something to hurt her. In the bedroom she looks forward to letting go, forgetting everything, and allowing me to make her feel good. She has said so herself. I feel privileged.

"Have you finally realized you're too good for me?" I sigh. It was bound to happen.

She smirks. I savor the warm feeling blossoming in my chest.

"I think it is the other way around." She patiently waits on her knees for my signal.

"You saved me, you know?" I open up to her. Feeling vulnerable is not a feeling I seek out, but with Emma I know my heart is safe. "If I never met you, I would be a walking zombie."

"I have never felt this alive." She simply states.

I let her remove my underwear and lick me until I cum.

~~~~

{Emma}

I manage to make it to my apartment fifteen minutes after leaving the gallery.

I explain my situation to the front desk employee who verifies my identity and gives me a spare key. I couldn't get my apartment key from my mom lest she found out what I was up to. The building is on the higher-end side of the city. Everything is impeccable, not one speck of dust. The colors in the lobby are light blues and vanilla cream. I glance down at the marble floor before taking the elevator up to my apartment.

The lights are off. My hand automatically reaches up to flick the switch. I remember the space. The white carpet contrasts against the dark furniture and black curtains. There is a large T.V. hanging on the wall in front of a glass coffee table. There are paintings on the wall. Very similar to the ones I saw tonight. I shy away from them, afraid of who might have painted them.

No one else is here. Where is this friend I keep thinking about? Maybe my mind is playing tricks on me and she never existed. But my parents did say I had a roommate. Evelyn. Hispanic girl, same age, a friend. We met in college and moved in together once we both got jobs in the city.

I go to her room and see it is still furnished but it looks more like a guest room than someone's room. There are no pictures or any personal belongings. Nothing in the drawers or the closet. I leave it, trying not to overthink any more than I have to tonight.

I think about grabbing something to eat before going to bed, but I'm not hungry.

My stomach is full of butterflies.

I touch my lips lightly. Camryn. What an intense woman. The fire that she carries burned every inch of my skin. Every corner of my psyche. She marked me and yet, I can't keep letting her thoughts overwhelm mine.

Not when I am already missing pieces of it.

~~~~

{Camryn}

I decide to visit Emma after work one evening.

In hindsight I should have called her and told her I was coming over but I wanted to surprise her with some carryout.

Instead, Evelyn opens the door in nothing but a white towel covering her up. Her dark hair glistens under the light. There are water droplets on her tan skin. She's any girl's wet dream.

"Hi Camryn, Emma said she was going to grab some drinks with some of our coworkers so she's not in yet. You're more than welcome to wait if you want." Her eyes are bright and her smile is a tad too friendly for me.

In the past I have kept my conversations with Evelyn to a minimum.

She hasn't done anything per say, but her flirty personality makes me uncomfortable. Emma knows there is some tension between us but I assured her it was all good on my end. I personally don't want to be friends with Evelyn. I am very happy with Emma and nothing will ruin that.

"All good, I think I'll come back when she does." I turn but she calls my name.

"Actually, now that you're here, I could really use your help moving my bed frame if you don't mind?" She opens the door to make room for me.

I look down at my watch and make some dumb excuse about forgetting a work thing. She doesn't buy it but I don't care. I leave the building as quickly as humanly possible and try to forget the whole ordeal. I could be reading into it but I would rather be cautious than trusting. And even if I wasn't rude with her, I hope she got the hint.

That night I debate on being honest with Emma.