Arrogant Bastard - Julie Capulet Page 0,57

tell me is so important it can’t wait and now you’re not even going to tell me? Fine, I’ll just go back to sleep until you—”

“I love you.”

I stare at him in mute shock. I sort of gasp lightly.

He holds up a finger, to remind me of my oath. “I know what you’re thinking. That I’m insane. I think I’m insane so I can only imagine how it sounds to you. But I do. I love you. I know I love you because I feel like I’ve been hit by a fucking lightning bolt right in the middle of my heart. In fact I had a dream that you were holding my heart, all bloody, in your hands, and you wanted to give it back to me but I wouldn’t take it. You’re still holding it, that’s how it feels. I know how fucked up that sounds but it’s true. I’ve never had anything like this happen to me before—not even fucking close. And I know what you’re going to say, that I don’t know you well enough to love you. But I don’t think it works that way all the time. I think you can know. I know that I know. And I want you to let me show you. I want to spend time with you. All my time. I want to give you things and make you happy, starting now. I don’t want to wait and fuck around and pretend that I’m not going mad with lust and with love. What I realize is that I’ve been waiting a long time already and I’m tired of waiting, like I’ve been searching but never, ever finding. Until you. That’s how it feels. Like I finally fucking found you. So I’m going to do everything I can to wow you and win you and get you to fall in love with me. And I know what you think of me, but you’re wrong. I can’t change who I’ve been or what I’ve done in the past, but that’s what it is: the past. A different life. A life that made me angry and sort of feral because the whole time I was pissed off that I wasn’t worthy of the real thing. The thing everyone aspires to and most of all me—even though I never admitted it to myself. And I don’t expect you to love me back right away. I know it’ll take time. But I also know I can convince you. And I’m grateful to you, honey, for being honest with me the other night, even though I know that was hard for you to do. But I’m glad you told me, so I can understand what hurts you. So I can make sure you don’t feel scared anymore. Because that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to treat you like the beautiful goddess you are. I’ll be careful with you. I’ll take care of you. Starting right now. I waited two whole infinite thousand-hour days to see you again and I couldn’t wait another minute.”

My heart’s beating, not fast, but heavily, thumping with … I don’t know. That hope I couldn’t find before, maybe. Is this real? I can’t quite absorb the enormity of what he’s confessing to me.

Before I can respond or even react, my phone starts playing a song. It’s the one I use for an alarm, a slow, soulful song about seizing the day by the Tucker Brothers Band. I pick up my phone and touch the screen, which stops the music, but it pings again with an alert. Uber. 7:30 a.m.

“Uber?” Gage asks.

“Yeah.”

“Where are you going?”

“I … booked a bus ticket.”

“To where?”

“New Orleans.”

“Today?”

I watch his face for a few seconds. He’s staring at me sternly. I nod, just barely, and bite my lip.

He watches me do this. “If I didn’t know better I might think you were running away from me.”

I don’t bother denying that that’s exactly what I was about to do.

Gage takes my hand, which is resting on the covers next to me. “I’m not him, honey. You need to know that.”

Just two days ago, the mention of him would have rocked me to my core. Now, already, it has become a part of our lexicon, something Gage knows about and something we talk about. It’s jarring but also … therapeutic, weirdly. Having it out there, in the air, instead of all cooped up, makes the memory feel much less heavy. “I know. You’re you.” I almost don’t say