Broken Juliet(26)

That’s how I feel now. Like I’ve carved out a huge chunk of my heart and left if with her.

It hurts. Fuck, it hurts like hell. But I know it was the right thing to do.

She doesn’t see it like that.

I hope one day, she will.

I almost laugh, but there’s too much simmering anger to allow it.

When I look up, he’s right in front of me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so serious.

“I’m not him anymore, Cassie. Never will be again. You have to know that.”

I nod. Every day, I understand that more.

From the moment I met you, it was all about you. I just tried to deny it.”

“And now?”

He gives me a hopeful smile. “Now I know I was a deluded *.”

I nod. “You were.”

“I know.”

“I mean, really.”

“I’m not arguing with you.”

We stare at each other, and the push and pull of how we are now makes me disoriented.

“So, what do we do now?” he asks and glances at the book in my hand.

I pick up my wineglass and drain it. “I guess we have dinner. Then … I don’t know. See what happens.”




Dinner is delicious. Conversation is full but tense. I drink too much wine. It helps me relax.

The thing is, relaxed is dangerous around him. Makes me think I’m ready for things. Builds a different kind of tension. One that has nothing to do with our past and everything to do with the here and now of us. The Cassie and Ethan who lapse into silence every few minutes because our brains are too distracted by each other to speak.

Instead, we stare. Avoid touching. Stare some more.

Gentle music plays as he leads me to the couch. The lights are dim, but he sees everything. Studies every movement. Watches me exhale and makes me tingle with need.

He squeezes his eyes shut and drops his head back. We both struggle to stay at opposite ends of the couch.

“I should go,” I say, more out of self-preservation than anything.

He sighs. “That is both the best and worst idea in the world.”

“It’s really sad that I know exactly what you mean by that, isn’t it?”

“No. It’s just another reason for you to get out of here while you still can. My noble intentions to take it slow with you only go so far when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to make every sexual fantasy I’ve had about you for the past three years a very dirty reality.”

“How dirty are we talking?”

“So dirty we’d have to do it in the shower.”

“Wow.” He’s good at shower sex. I remember.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?”

“No.”

He exhales. “Fuck. I’m calling a car for you before I lose all self-control.”

We both stand, and I stare blatantly when he adjusts himself.

“Can I borrow some of these?” I ask, and gesture to the journals.

“Take as many as you want. From now on, I’m an open book. Even Past Me has no secrets.”

While he pulls out his phone and dials for a car, I pick up a selection of journals. I purposely avoid the ones from our senior year. I can’t even look at them without breaking into a sweat. It’s a safe bet I’m going to need a lot more to drink before I tackle them.

He walks me to the door, and with every step, the desire to leave him lessens. He leans forward and grabs the handle as his chest presses against my shoulder. For long seconds, he stays there, not opening the door. Just pressing against me and breathing.

“Cassie, I’m going to ask you some questions now, and I really need you to answer ‘no’ to them. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

He inhales, and I feel the tip of his nose graze the side of my neck. I close my eyes and shiver as I press back into him.

“Will you stay with me tonight? In my bed?”

He can’t—How can he…?

“Ethan—”

“All you need to say is ‘No.’ That’s it.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “No.”

“Will you let me peel off your clothes and put my mouth on you? All over you? Taste all the parts I’ve been dreaming of since we’ve been apart?”

Jesus.

Breathe.

“No.”

“Do you want me?”

“No.”

Lies.

“Do you love me?”

“No.”

All of it.

“Will you stop me if I pin you against the wall and kiss you like my life depends on it? Which it kind of does.”

My heart kicks into overdrive. We both stop breathing.

Finally, a truth.

“No.”

In a second he’s pressed me back against the wall. Our mouths are open and desperate. Then his hands are on my ass as he lifts me. I wrap my legs around his grinding hips and gasp as I drop the books and my bag so I can anchor my hands in his hair. I open myself up to one tiny corner of my need for him and let that part grip his shoulders and biceps as he works himself against me.

“Fuck. Cassie…”

There’s too much of him, all straining, all hard. The deep parts of me ache for him the most. Not just my body. It’s more than that. Some parts spark. Others melt. A flux of chemistry and catastrophe, the same compulsive need that keeps bringing us back together.