Chapter 1: Forgotten Jem

Robert's P.O.V

Shore leave had been relaxing. Thankfully, disturbances had been few and far between, giving me the perfect the opportunity to catch up on some much-needed reading. A hobby I couldn't entertain very often, especially out at sea, with all my noisy shipmates, carrying on about which ever nonsense or rumors they claim to be important. Others say socializing is important, yet sitting on my couch, with the comforting silence of my apartment and a book for company convinces me, otherwise.

I take a sip of my brew and readjust myself comfortably, just as the doorbell sounds… I check my watch in annoyance. The mailman must be early, again! Rolling my eyes, I reluctantly haul myself off the couch and gently place down my book on the coffee table.

Honestly, how many more times do I have to remind the guy of his obligations to correct punctuality? This'll be the 5th time, at least!

"You're early again." I begin to remind him as I open the door. "Don't you know you're not supposed to be here for another-"

The unexpected catches me by surprise. This most definitely wasn't my usual delivery personnel. She was young, if I had to guess her age, I'd say early thirties? I certainly didn't recognize her; I would remember if I did. I'm not one to forget things.

"Are you filling in for, Gareth Taylor?" I ask. Perhaps she works for Australia Post? Then again, she isn't wearing the uniform. In fact, she is dressed far too casually for a mail deliverer. Blush Pink hoodie, black trackies, not at all suitable for the job description.

But who else could she be? I don't make a habit out of forming friendships outside of my work colleagues, unless of course I'm intoxicated. Even then, I don't believe I'd share my address with anyone. Not even my crewmates.

"No? I'm here to see you, Robert."

I furrow my eyebrows; her face doesn't carry familiarity in the slightest and somehow, she knows my name? None of this makes sense, this girl doesn't make sense!

"You must have the wrong address. I'm not expecting any visitors." I attempt to close the front door, only to have her pushing back against it, her strength overpowering mine.

"Robert, wait." She protests. "You really don't remember me?"

I shake my head, I really couldn't. No matter how hard I studied the way her chestnut curls hung down past her shoulders, or the way her dark eyes stare intently into mine. I was almost certain we hadn't met before.

I glance down at her left wrist, her opposite hand is wrapped around her bracelet, fiddling with the silver piece of jewelry. It was repetitive and annoying, and it gave me a strange feeling, one I couldn't identify. This made me uncomfortable, a feeling I shouldn't be experiencing within the safety of my own apartment.

"Sorry." She says quietly. She swallows before continuing. "I guess, I shouldn't have come."

I barely register her words. "Can you stop that."

Her eyes fill themselves with confusion. "What?"

I gesture to her wrist. "That. Playing with your… bracelet. It's annoying."

She hesitates and quickly tucks her hands into her pockets. "Oh, sorry… Nervous habit."

Nervous habit. My mind sends itself into spirals. Suddenly the familiarity I was missing somehow surfaces. That excuse, it's almost like I've heard it before. It's almost-

"Can I see your bracelet?" I ask out of the blue. I coax her to show it to me, she for some reason takes forever to do so. When she finally does, I take her wrist in my hand and run my thumb across the cold metal.

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The school oval is packed with noise in the far distance, but what would usually bother me, didn't seem to matter anymore. The girl before me, although sweaty and her short hair a mess, was all that mattered to me. Her wrist sits in my hand, her bracelet cold to the touch.

"Why do you always fiddle with this?" I ask, gesturing to the bracelet.

She just chuckles. "Nervous habit, I guess."

She gently pulls her wrist away and wraps her arms around my neck. She got closer, backing me into a tree. Her body heat was radiating.

"You mean a lot to me, Robert Dixon. More than you may realize." She speaks heartfelt and genuinely. My heart beats in a way that it shouldn't. As if I was nervous. But I strangely don't feel an urge to run away, if anything, I want to get closer, under not much control of my own.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Robert?" She carefully pulls her wrist out of my grip. I stare up at her, wide eyed and questioning.

"Carly…?"