Broken Juliet(44)

Lonely.

Sad.

“I miss you, Cassie.”

My heart races. I’ve wanted to hear that so many times, but now that he’s said it, I have no idea how to respond.

He’s still stroking my face. Studying me. Trying to keep himself together.

Seeing him like this instantly pulls me apart.

I look away.

He sighs. “On a scale of one to wanting-to-kick-me-in-the-balls, how much do you hate me for dumping you? Be honest.”

I pick at the outer seam of his jeans. “Some days, I hate you lots. Most days, to be honest.”

“And other days?”

I run my fingernail down the stitching while ignoring how his thigh is tensing beneath my head.

“Some days, I…” He grazes his fingernails down the back of my neck and then up across my scalp. It makes a quake of shudders roll through me. “Sometimes I don’t feel like kicking you in the balls at all.”

“What about right now?”

I turn to face him as I fight the burn that’s rising up my chest and neck, and the hungry ache that’s pounding down low. “Right now, I have no idea how I feel.”

He stares at me for a long time, then nods and takes a mouthful of booze. He frowns at his glass.

I sit up and wait for him to say something. He doesn’t.

His knuckles go white as he grips his drink.

“What are you thinking?”

He shakes his head. “I’m thinking I really want to kiss you, but I can’t.” He gives a short laugh. “While I’m admitting stuff, I’ll tell you that’s what I’m thinking pretty much every day. It’s f*cking pathetic how often I fantasize about it. I thought I’d be over you by now. But I’m not.”

His words floor me. So honest and unexpected. So similar to things I stop myself from thinking.

I can’t respond. For once, he’s braver than I am.

He drinks again and looks as if he’s waiting for a response. He’s going to be sorely disappointed.

At last he gives up. “So, care to tell me why you walked out of acting class today?”

The question takes me by surprise. “Not really.”

“I thought we were pretty good by the end.”

“You were. You were amazing.”

“So, why did you walk out? You looked pissed.”

I stop and think about it. The answer isn’t easy to put my finger on, but when I do, it’s so obvious.

“For so long, I’ve tried convincing myself that we broke up because you were incapable of being truly intimate. Of letting your guard down. Then today … in that scene with Connor, you did it. You were everything I knew you could be and more. Passionate. Brave. Loving. Patient. So open and strong. And I was so … jealous. And angry. I couldn’t cope. It made me even angrier that you could be like that with a guy you hate, and yet you couldn’t do it with me.”

“Cassie, I was acting.”

“No. You were living it. You think I can’t tell? I’ve watched you hold yourself back in every acting class since our breakup. Today was different. You made a breakthrough. A huge one.”

He downs the rest of his drink, pulls his legs up, and crosses them in front of him. Then he levels me with the most honest look he’s every given me.

“You want to know why that scene worked so well today? I was…” He shakes his head. “Jesus, if I wasn’t drunk, there’d be no way I’d be telling you this.” He takes a breath. “It worked because I imagined I was you, talking to me.”

It takes me a moment to comprehend what he’s said, and even then, I think I have it wrong. “What?”

He tugs on his hair. “I thought about all of those times you talked me through stuff. Tried to help me be strong. It seemed appropriate considering the text I had. If you think I was amazing today, it’s because I was pretending I was you.”

He shakes his head and fingers the hem of his jeans. “The funny thing is, I never thought I’d have the balls to be like that. Open to being hurt and not giving a shit. But when I did it today…” He slowly lifts his head and looks me in the eyes. “I could see how different things would be for me if I was. How much better they’d be.”

He doesn’t say, “with you,” but I swear to God, I hear it in my mind.

“I want to be like that,” he says softly. “The strong one. I’m f*cking ashamed of how weak I am. About so many things.”

I’m stunned into silence. My heart pounds, and my breath comes too fast. He’s staring at me. Waiting for a reaction. He’s so close, but I want him closer.

Seconds pass. Time stretches around us.

He leans forward. Our legs are touching. Two layers of denim do nothing to insulate me from the effect of his body next to mine. Faces are close. It would be so easy to move forward. Brush against his lips. See if he still tastes as sweet as I remember.

“Cassie…” The dark edge in his voice isn’t helping my restraint. It’s like he’s drowning and begging me to save him.

I take a deep breath and dig for strength. “I’m thinking that one of us should probably leave this room before we do something stupid.”

He leans forward a fraction more and inhales. Then he closes his eyes for a second and says, “Yeah. I think you’re probably right.”