He looked right back at her, obviously somewhat prepared for this.

"I'm an amnesiac, Bryce. Everyone's going to be my first something. So if I waited for the first person to offer me a ride, the guy showing me my apartment, the girls down at the bar... when am I supposed to stop and decide that it's time I'm allowed to let someone mean something? Or do you think finding whoever might be left alive at this point and traumatizing them all over again while I can't remember anything about the person I was to them sits there between us like an elephant on the coffee table is the only real option here?

"I don't think there's anything objective about that statement, Bryce. And if I genuinely thought that your subjectivity was about not liking me, I'd be out the door in an instant.

"But it's not. And while you get to decide a lot of things, you don't get to decide who I think is worth the trouble and who isn't. That's up to me. I don't know much, but I know who I care about.

"And I care about you. I think you are beautiful and brilliant and kind and funny and you make me happy that I woke up from that ice. So if there's baggage, let me see if I can carry it with you. If you hadn't noticed, I can carry a lot."