Don't Forget

The lines between morning and night have become completely blurred. I can’t remember what time I went to sleep last night. Actually, I can’t even remember falling asleep. If I can remember anything at all, it’s that Kamden and I talked for hours last night. The last thing I remember is talking, and I don’t know what time it was. Not even a little bit. I could get use to that.

“Spencer,” I hear Kamden whisper for the third time.

He’s been trying to wake me up for the past ten minutes. I’m hoping if I keep ignoring him, he’ll just stop trying. Can you blame me? It’s probably twenty degree’s outside and right now we’re buried under a million blankets and all tangled into each other, and I really don’t want to move.

“Okay,” He kisses my cheek. “I know you’re awake,” He laughs. “But if by some miracle
you are asleep I’ll write you a note.” He leans out towards the bed side table and starts scribbling something.

“But it’s so early!” I roll over so I’m sprawled out on my side of the bed.

“I knew you were awake! And it’s 12:30,” He sits up.

“Why?” I look up at him.

“Hey, what do you want for Christmas,” He leans over me.

“You followed me from Arizona. I think that’s enough, don’t you?” I raise an eyebrow.

“If I thought that was enough I wouldn’t be asking you what you want. Would I?”

“Then, I want…” I tap my lip, pretending to be in deep thought. “Absolutely nothing,” I
shrug. “What are you going to do about that?”

“You’re just being difficult. I mean, you know I’m going to get you something anyways,” He disappears into the bathroom for a minute, before I hear the sink water start to run.

“What if I don’t want anything?”

“Then I’d call you a liar,” He emerges from the bathroom half dressed, with a toothbrush in his mouth.

“Where’s your shirt?” I move to my bag and sit down next to it, looking for my brush.

“I don’t like what I picked out,” He shrugs.

“You are such a girl sometimes,” I begin to brush my hair.

“Because I like to match?” He disappears into the bathroom. I begin to sift through his bag, looking for something that he’d want to wear.

“What about the blue one?” I pull it out.

“You’re obsessed with blue on me,” He appears next to me and bends down over his suitcase.

“It brings out-,” I start.

“My eyes. I know,” He pulls on an undershirt and takes the blue sweater out of my hands.

“You don’t have to wear it,” I pull back the sweater.

“I want to,” He pulls it out of my hands.

“Where are we going?” I take a pair of jeans and a fitted, light pink sweater, out of my
bag.

“We aren’t going anywhere,” He pulls on his jacket. At least not for half an hour. I need time to get your Christmas present.” Crap, I need to get his too. I’m a terrible girlfriend, all I thought of was me. Kamden probably has some other present in Arizona, because that’s just the sort of guy he is. I should be that sort of girl.

“Fine, I need to find yours too,” I smile. “What do you want?”

“Something blue,” He teases. He’s not going to tell me.“Let’s get coffee? Then we’ll meet back in an hour,” He picks up my jacket form the chair for me.

“Okay. One Hour,” I hold out my finger.

Fifteen minutes later, we’re sitting standing outside a Starbucks near our hotel and sipping mocha-chinos. I can’t figure out what to get Kamden. I mean, I’m contemplating asking him again, but that would be sort of ironic since I can’t tell him what I want either. I just can’t think of anything I would want. I know that sounds cliché, but I really can’t. And now I’ve got to figure out what he wants. And it’s got to be good. Really good, because Kamden’s presents are so perfect, all the time. And I’ve never gotten him a present. Since when does Christmas make me so nervous?

What do you get for a boy who has everything? Wait. What do you get for a boyfriend who has everything? It’s not as simple as girls. At least with girls if all else fails you can always turn to jewelry. Always. Guys aren’t like that, not even close. I’m not going to buy him clothes ‘cause I’m pretty sure that’s what he expects, and let’s admit that the concept is pretty boring to begin with.

Do you think if I hail a taxi and just tell them to take me to the nearest department store, it would work? Half of me wants to give it a try. The other half knows that it’s pointless in this weather. I don’t know what street I’m on, but I know that there’s bumper to bumper traffic right now. If I hailed a cab I would just be setting myself up for disaster. I mean, I’d like to get back to my hotel room sometime this century.

Okay. Okay, I can get this done. I glance to my left and glance to my right. I’m walking into this store and I’m not really sure what they’re selling. I just stopped feeling my finger tips three minutes ago. I’m going in there anyways. I know it’s wrong to just go in for the heat, but I really, really cannot feel my fingers. Alright, I’m going in.

“Welcome to Rush.” I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much Botox on one person. Ever.

“Oh. Hi,” I wave. She just frowns and goes back behind her counter. “Fine,” I mumble.

“Can I help you with something?” Her voice has totally changed. Not so sweet anymore.

“Um,” I glance around.

“No. Thanks.”

“Mhm,” she sighs.

“Merry Christmas,” I smile before leaving the store.

No heat is worth dealing with a person like that. I wonder what Kamden is doing right now? Focus. This can’t be that difficult, can it? Is it bad that I want to quit? I want to go back to the hotel and get under warm blankets.

I turn the corner of some random street and find the most amazing store I’ve ever seen. It’s an actual record store, and I don’t know the name, but all I can focus on is all the vintage posters that are plastered to the glass shop window. The Kinks? Is that a Kinks poster? I can’t get my hopes up, this could turn out to be a flop. At least that’s what I’m telling myself as the door jingle behind me.
“Hello,” I wave to the aged women behind the counter. She touches the ends of her dark, short hair.

“Hi there,” She waves. “What are you looking for, sweetheart?”

“I’m looking for a Christmas present… for my boyfriend.”

“Oh?” Her eyes light up as she leans her elbows against the glass counter. “I bet he’s a Beatles kind of guy!” She touches her cheeks with her red fingernails.

“Not exactly,” I smile.

“The Stones then?” She guesses.

“Would it be a stretch if you had the Kinks?” I smile again.

“Nope. It would be a stretch if you asked me to find it,” She motions to the rest of the store.

When I actually begin to take a look around, I realize what a mess this place is. The hunter green wallpaper is basically slipping off the walls. Well, whatever parts of the wall that aren’t already covered in posters. This is going to take a while, but if I find something remotely related to the Kinks I’ll take it as a god send.

“I’m positive that it’s here… somewhere,” She shrugs. “We’ve got everything here.”

“Everything?” I need to know exactly what I’m investing my time into.

“Everything,” She nods reassuringly.

“Okay,” I breathe. Here we go.

Two Hours. It’s been two excruciating hours and my coat is sitting in a pile with my scarf and hat on the glass counter. I’m hot and tired, and I’ve only found a Kinks poster at the bottom of a box filled with some assortment of no name bands. I think Kamden would have died if he found that poster at the bottom of a box of nobodies.

“I’m sure you’ll find it soon,” She laughs. Yeah, this is hysterical.

“I really can’t find it,” I run my hands through my hair.

“Why don’t I take a look in the back for you?” If The Kinks were in the back this entire time I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself.

“Please,” I plead as a take a seat on the floor. I’m sitting on the floor in the middle of this bomb called a record store. What is going on here?

“Great,” I mumble to myself. I drop my head into my hands and run my fingers through my hair.

“Grandma!” I hear the bell to the door jingle and look up. “Why is there a hot girl sitting on the floor of the store? What did you do?” He pulls off his gray ski cap and looks down at me.

“Hi,” I wave hopelessly.

“You alright?” He smirks.

“Oliver! Leave the girl alone! She’s looking for a present for her boyfriend!” His Grandmother shouts from the back room.

“I can still help you,” He bends down to my level.

“Really?” I don’t want to get my hopes up.

“Yeah,” He nods. The flirt drops from his pretty face and this wave of relief comes over me.

“Are you lying?” I narrow my eyes at his brown ones.

“I swear,” He throws up his hands in defeat. “The Kinks? Smart guy,” He scans the room.

“How did you know?” Then I realize I’m clutching that stupid Kinks poster. “Never mind.”

“It should be…” The floors begin to creak as he begins to walk around the store. “Like a set? A record set?”

“Yeah.”

“Then it’s right here,” He pulls a box off of a shelf that I checked sixteen times. Did that just happen?

“Are you serious?” I get up off the floor and put a hand on my hip.

“Do you want me to put them back?” He turns back towards the shelf.

“No! I just don’t understand.” How did he find it.

“I grew up in this store, and I know exactly how unorganized my Grandmother is.”

“Good.” ‘Cause I thought I was going insane for a second.

“Did you find it Oliver?” His Grandmother asks.

“Of course,” He smiles.

“Ring her up,” She motions before disappearing again.

“Why are you working on Christmas Eve?” I pull my jacket and scarf back on.

“Why are you shopping on Christmas Eve?” He retorts.

“Oh.”

“Nah, I need the cash,” He smiles.

“Thank you for helping me.” He just nods.

“He’s a lucky guy,” He glances up at me. A line? Great, a line. “I mean, I don’t know how many girls would throw themselves into a store like this just to find some old records that their boyfriend likes.” He’s not flirting with me, I know it sounds like it, but he’s really not. He’s honestly just giving me a compliment.

“Thanks,” I say before beginning to dig through my wallet.

“Merry Christmas.” He hands me the big brown bag as I put the cash on the counter.

“You too,” I wave before walking out of the store.

I think my cheeks are wind burnt. I really hope I’m wrong, but it’s not like it can get any worse, considering the fact that the hotel has finally come back into sight. That was after three wrong turns and me finally accepting that I have completely lost my touch with this place; I don’t like it.

“Welcome back Miss,” The doorman smiles.

“Thanks,” I smile with my numb cheeks.

“Spencer,” Kamden is roaming around the lobby with hands stuffed in his jean pockets and a beige sweater on. “What happened to you?” He smirks.

“I don’t know,” I shrug. “What are you doing down here?” He takes the bag from me and starts walking towards the elevator.

“I got back an hour ago and you weren’t here. I mean, I tried waiting in our room, but I got bored.” The elevator door opens and there’s about five other people in it.

“You’re freezing,” He touches my face.

“Are my cheeks wind burnt?” Please say no.

“No.” They’re staring at us now.

“So why can’t I feel them?” I whisper.

“Let’s go,” He motions towards the open elevator doors.

The second the door to the hotel room opens I drop onto the bed and I’ve got this headache that could kill. I’m trying to figure out if it’s a desperate attempt for warmth, or if I’m still exhausted. Kamden pulls off my jacket and my scarf for me.

“Thank you,” I kick off my shoes.

“You’re still freezing,” He lays down next to me.

“I’m the one from the Southwest,” He smirks.

“Shut up!” I protest.

“You can’t even handle the snow!” He teases.

“Don’t be mean,” I turn into him and he wraps his arm around me. “You’re going to feel like a jerk when you open my present,” I smile this triumphant smile.

“Really?” He’s laughing. This isn’t funny! He has no idea what I went through today.

“Really.”

“Listen,” He takes my hand into his and starts playing with my fingers.

“Oh-Kay.” Why doesn’t he sound so good anymore?

“Right before I left home I-,” This nervous smile begins to consume his face. “I got into Stanford!”He blurts.

“Oh my- Stanford! I jump up from the bed.

“Stanford!” He shouts. My stomach drops.

“Stanford!” I throw my arms around his neck. “Early acceptance to Stanford!” Why didn’t I apply early? Why did my letters just go out two and a half weeks ago? Why have I got this really bad feeling in my stomach? I swear I’m happy for him; I know he deserves this, but I did not apply for Stanford.

Okay, Whatever. I don’t want to talk about college right this second. I want to enjoy Christmas Eve, then Christmas, and then New Years. That’s a different topic for a different day. I know Kamden is thinking it, and so am I, but both of us know it would be stupid to bring it up. Really, really stupid. And he knows it too, that’s why he won’t say a single word. I don’t blame him.

“I want to give you your present!” I start to reach for the brown bag that’s sitting on the floor.

“No! It’s not Christmas yet. You’re only suppose to open your presents on Christmas, you know that,” He pulls me away from the bag.

“But you got into Stanford! I thought it could be counted as a special occasion!” I protest.

“No,” He kicks the bag under the bed with this smile on his face. “It’s not Christmas.”

“Fine,” I’m walking away before I start pouting like I’m three.

“Fine,” He laughs.
Silence.

“Come on!” I shout. “Just open your present!” He doesn’t know what I’ve been through to get those records. And don’t get me started on the Beatles and the Kinks.

“You’re acting like a little kid!” He runs a hand through his hair.

“What if you open your gift and you don’t have to give me mine! How about that?” get off the bed and pull the brown bag out from under the bed.

“You’re such a bad liar Spencer! You know me, and you know that if I open my present then I’m going to end up giving you yours!”

“Really?” He smirks because he know I’m lying.

“Really,” I shrug.

“Liar,” He leans his forehead against mine.

“I-I,” I swear I planned on kissing him until this knot took over my stomach and I’m running to the bathroom as quickly as humanly possible, and I’m throwing up in the toilet. What the hell? First a headache and now this? Oh I must seems so attractive right now.

“Spencer?” I hear Kamden say on the other side of the bathroom door.

“Don’t come in!” I pull my hair up into a messy bun the best I can. I hate throwing up in public. I know this isn’t public, but I am not letting my boyfriend watch me turn my stomach inside out against my own will.

“Come on, you’re sick,” The door knob starts to twist.

“That’s exactly wh-,” too late.

My stomach is twisted into this mess and I’m sitting on the floor puking again, tying to grasp onto something to hold me up. Then a strong arm goes around my waist and a hand is patting my back. This is so embarrassing. Where did this come from? Why is my stomach going insane? Why Christmas Eve?