Elegy of Ice and Snow

I picked up a dumbass.

He had amnesia, but damn, he was gorgeous.

I lied and told him he was my fiancé. The idiot believed me.

Then his memory came back, and turns out he was some big-shot rich kid.

He went back to his life, without a single look back.

Two years later, I saw him again.

I watched as the same guy, now used the toe of his expensive shoe to grind another man’s fingers into the floor, his voice like ice: "Worthless."

I turned to run, and he called out:

"My fiancé, did you lose your memory too?"

1

Seeing Hunter back in my life was surreal.

He donated a library to the school, and they invited him for some kind of meet-and-greet.

"Mr. Huntington, you're so young and successful, what inspired you to invest in education?"

His voice was flat: "I want to make sure that people who want to read, can read. That's all."

"Does this desire come from personal experience?"

Hunter Huntington paused.

Three years ago, he’d lost his memory and been dumped in the middle of nowhere, spending the worst year of his life—nobody knew about that.

I sat in the audience, watching him from afar.

Now, Hunter was decked out in an expensive suit, his expression indifferent.

And me? I was just a broke college student who’d just applied for financial aid.

We were maybe three hundred feet apart.

But it felt like an uncrossable canyon.

My roommate was practically drooling, "He's so hot, he's totally my man."

Another one elbowed her, "Back off, he's my man!"

There are tons of rich guys who get famous online.

But someone like Hunter Huntington, who was hot enough to give movie stars a run for their money? Those are rare.

Everyone joked about him being their man.

"Hey, did you guys hear the rumor about him disappearing three years ago?"

"I thought he just went overseas to study. There wasn’t a disappearance."

"Sierra, did you hear?" My roommate suddenly asked.

I shook my head, "Not really."

"I heard he was found out West. Sierra, aren't you from out there? You must have heard something."

"Nope."

I’m a terrible liar. Thank God the theater was dark, hiding my guilty face.

Three years ago, Hunter wasn’t just "out West."

He was in my house.

Eating and sleeping with me for over a year.

At our closest, I held him and slept in the same bed.

These were secrets I'd take to the grave.

2

The talk was winding down, time for questions.

Some girl raised her hand. "Mr. Huntington, is it true you have a fiancé, and you even have her name tattooed on you?"

Gossip is a universal sport. The energy perked right up.

"That's not really relevant to today's topic…"

The woman speaking was Wendy Silverton, sitting next to Hunter, and apparently his right-hand woman.

Rumor had it, they were childhood friends and their families go way back.

"It's true," Hunter said, stepping right over Wendy. "The tattoo is on my wrist."

He pulled up his sleeve, showing off one letter.

"S."

The crowd went wild.

Wendy Silverton was right there. Who else could the "S" be for?

Wendy herself blushed and looked down, like...