Forget Me Not

by Julie Soto

My photographer and favorite ex-stepsibling—a tall Indian woman who gets mistaken for Priyanka Chopra at least twice a day

Lol not the priyanka refrence

“My mom has been married sixteen times.”

You gotta be kidding me

A wedding is not a marriage. Marriages will never be perfect. They’re always a work in progress. But weddings? Weddings are just a moment in time, striving to be perfect.

because with my round face, I get mistaken for a kid all the time.

She is me. I am her.

I think that if we could all just sit down and have a donut, things might get better.

I fucking hate flowers.

HE CANT SAY THAT

“Flowers are better than people.”

SO TRUE

I don’t know what I’d even say to her. Just hand her a hankie full of ice? Tell her she should have kneed him in the balls too? Ask her if she’d like me to go beat the shit out of him? Out of Whitney?

flowers are infinitely better than people. Because you can find a person’s ratio of light, water, and attention, and it still won’t be enough. For flowers, it’s enough.

“Welcome to my store,” I say drily. “You need a prom corsage?” She blinks rapidly. “A—a prom corsage? I’m twenty-two!” I shrug. “You look sixteen.” She doesn’t. But I bet it’s gonna make her mad.

“What the fuck kind of name is Ama?” She takes her hand back, and her eyes flick to the floor before she gains her confidence again. “It’s short for something, obviously.” And the fact that she won’t tell me is delicious. I try to keep the grin from twitching my lips, but I think I fail. “Amateur.”

I wonder if she’ll look up The Language of Flowers and figure out I just told her, You are immature and I resent you. Go away.

I don’t believe long-term commitments like marriage work out, but I do believe in love. It can be fleeting and undependable, rarely long-lasting, but I do believe it exists.

His hair is long again. He has half of it tied back, out of his face. I called it a man bun once, and he gave me the silent treatment for the rest of the day.

That same brimmed black hat from her profile pic is on her head, and there’s a broad smile on her lips. With her hair down, now I can see that it’s long—to her mid-back. She looks like a witch.

Ama Torres. As I scribble the date, I say, “Amalgamation.” She pauses typing—probably looking up PITA—and stares at me. “You think my mother named me Amalgamation?”

My limbs hang awkwardly and suddenly I’m back in school, forced into the back of every picture and asked to smile a bit less strangely.

“Maybe someone could talk me into a flower.” Her voice is low. Vowels round and slow. “You already are a flower.” I regret it the second it’s out of my mouth. It’s not smooth. It’s not sexy.

I’m so concentrated on her, that it’s not until my third time looking at the picture that I see me—staring at her face, fascinated. Hungry.

“In mythology, Amaryllis fell in love with a—with a man who loved flowers…”

“What’s an amaryllis look like?” Hazel says, turning to where Elliot pointed out the calla lilies. “I don’t keep them in the shop anymore.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she says. She squeezes my arm, and before I can wonder what she’s doing so close to my face, her lips peck my jaw.

I’m so close to her, I could kiss her if I only stepped forward— And I guess she’s thinking the exact same thing because her hands reach up for my shoulders as I grab her waist. Two arms wind around my neck as she pushes herself against me.

The press of her lips on mine sets everything in my chest on fire, and my fingers curl into her hair like a lifeline.

I’m so fucking hard. My hands slip lower, and just my fingertips are curving over her backside, and then I feel I might dissolve into syllables and moans for the rest of my life.

I’m back in freshman year, finding out from Madison Bailey and a room full of her friends that completion during Seven Minutes in Heaven is not impressive at all. Fuck, I really gotta get over this Madison chick.

I’m gonna fuck her. I’m gonna fuck her one day, and I’ll drive her just as crazy.

She parts her knees, and I almost drop to mine.

This man 🤌🏻

“I want to see. I want to see them all,” she whispers, and the air sends shivers across my shoulders. “I want to put my mouth on every last one of them.”

Sometimes I feel like she blew into my life like a hurricane and barely left me a second to catch my bearings,

She knows a piece of me that’s gone.

I drop kisses down her jaw, angling her neck open so I can feel her pulse against my lips.

“I don’t give a fuck who it is. I want you to look debauched when I’m debauching you.”

My cheeks burn, and I drop my head on her shoulder. She laughs, her fingers running through my hair.

“Tell me where another one is.” Her voice is reedy and high. “I’ll show you all of them if you come with my fingers inside of you.”

“I love the way you say my name.” “How do I say it?” “Like Emma. Like you’re too fucking lazy to say Ama.”

I want to know you. I want to know what you like, what you hate—even if it’s me.

I want to love what you love, even if it’s extinct.

he saved me from eating peanut butter and remembered my favorite Gatorade, all in one day.

“I mean, come back and I’ll fuck you in your truck.” My jaw snaps closed and I bounce my head as if weighing my options. “I was thinking maybe I could fuck you in my truck.”

“Pop the hood. I’ll take a look.” “Elliot Bloom, if you sit still and forget about this, I promise to suck your soul out through your dick.”

You may think everything ends one day, but you haven’t had ‘everything’ with me.”

I’m hanging on the edge of a cliff, waiting for her. Always waiting for her.

The idea that she wants to look into the future and still see me is intoxicating.

I’ve never wanted someone like this—their body, their conversation, their mind

“No one should have to wait for happiness a second longer than they have to.”

But it’s the surprise from someone who knows you on a level no one else will—someone who’s opened up your chest and fit themselves inside.

She smiles softly at me, and says, “I think…I think I may be falling in love with you.”

Ama’s eyes are bright and brown and lovely as I say, “Marry me.” Those eyes blink once. My skin buzzes and my chest aches, but I’m not afraid. She smiles. Breath pushes out of her in a laugh. “What? No.”

She really pulled the champagne problems card right now 😭

because you don’t want us to end, you don’t even want a beginning?