Love again. Love. Again.
Again.
Why would she say that? How would she even know? How would she… Is she being cruel? Because he told me himself he can’t. He told me in exact words he can’t love again. He’s too broken for it. And after what just happened in the bathroom…
I look up then.
I’ve been sitting with my back to the room at large until I moved to sit beside his ex-girlfriend. And now I can see the space beyond. It’s crowded like I said. There are a ton of people here, standing, sitting on couches like us, mingling, laughing. You’d think I’d have to hunt him down in this chaos. I’d have to look for him, but I don’t.
I find him the moment I decide I want to.
Because he’s already looking at me. Standing in direct view and in a group of his teammates, he already has his eyes on me. He always does, doesn’t he? Whether I can tell or not.
After making me swallow that pill, he left me alone. Before I could stop him, he left the room altogether, probably to go to his and get changed. Because a few minutes later, while I was sobbing on the bathroom floor, there was a knock at the door. It was Snow, telling me that everyone was ready and waiting, including him. I got ready as soon as I could, ignoring the pain in my chest, and rushed downstairs to the ornate lobby. We rode in the car together but because Snow and Conrad and Wyn were with us, we didn’t have a moment to chat about what happened. An hour later, we still haven’t gotten that moment.
I didn’t think I’d have that until the end of the night when we got back. And since he’s not really good at talking, I knew I’d have to be the one to broach the subject, to take the lead. Although I still don’t know what I would say to him.
What do you say to the person you’ve woven a dream with? What do you say to the man you’ve dreamed a dream and wished a wish with? You tell him you love him. And then you tell him he loves you back.
Because he does.
He does, he does, hedoes.
Oh God, he does.
My heart comes back up, pounding, racing,soaring. As if blasting off from the bottom of my stomach, my soul like a star. That soccer ball he used to shatter my window and get to me.
How did I not see that before? It’s so obvious. It’s so easy to spot. So easy that a girl who hasn’t even seen him in weeks could do it. Soeasywith how his eyes always seem to find me. The way he loses his mind when I’m away, the way he’s been so restless these past few weeks. The way he’s obsessed with everything I do. The little things, the big things. Things I didn’t even know about myself like watching action movies with my nose scrunched; we watched a movie on Netflix last night and he told me that. Or that the reason I always get a burger is because I want to eat the fries. Because I always only finish half my burger but practically gulp down all the fries.
It's soobviousthe way he wants a family with me. It’s not to fill a gap in his life or to get over his past love. It’s because he loves me. And yes, he said he couldn’t love again but love is not a choice. You don’t get to choose whether or not you fall in love. You can’t tell yourself to not love someone any more than you can tell yourself to get over someone.
Besides, don’t I know by now that he has so many walls erected around his emotions, his heart, his soul that he doesn’t even realize everything he feels?
He didn’t give me the pill because he can’t love me. He gave it to me because he does. Because he thinks his dream of a family with me—and it is a dream, isn’t it, and he probably doesn’teven know it—will take my dream of college and exploring things away. And he can’t do that. He can’t be selfish. He can’t hurt me that way, so he hurt himself and pushed that pill down my throat. So I could get everything I wanted.
But everything I ever wanted is him.
He’s my most precious dream, my biggest desire, always out of reach, always untouchable. A life with him is something I’ve always wanted but was too afraid to even think about, let alone reach for. Maybe that’s why I didn’t see the truth before. That he loves me.
Me.
Forgetting Isadora and everyone else around me, I spring up from my seat. Keeping my eyes locked with him, I take a step back. And even though we’re far apart, he still notices and goes alert, his body snapping taut. I take another step back and his eyes narrow. Another and his chest expands with a sharp breath under his t-shirt. He’s getting angry. Like he always does when I retreat from him. He’s warned me over and over again what will happen if I run from him.
So I keep backing away. I keep making him angry.
Because let him be mad. Let him getfloodedby anger, by all the emotions, all the feelings he tries so hard not to feel. And when he catches me, I’ll show him. I’ll show him he canfeelwhatever he wants to, he candowhatever he wants to with me. I’ll show him he issafewith me. Like I’m safe with him.
I’ll show him he can love me because I love him back.
I turn around and start running. I rush through the crowd and make for the French doors. I burst through them and feel the crisp night air. The grounds are vast and lit up by lampposts but beyond that there’s a maze, tall and made of hedges. I take off toward them. It’s a crazy choice and there’s always a chance I’ll get lost. But I don’t care. I know he’ll find me. I know he won’t let me get lost.
I run and run and enter the maze, dark but not scary. The night is alive with chirping crickets and a light breeze. There are a million of stars up in the sky just like freckles on my body. His favorite and I let them guide me. I turn far too many corners to know where I’m going or where I’ll end up, but I know this is me running toward him even if it doesn’t look like it. I know that any second now I’m going to reach him.
And I do.
Just as I’m turning another corner, he grabs me from behind. Just like he did all those months ago at The Horny Bard. His arm catches me around the waist, and he literally plucks me off the ground, my heels almost midair. My spine goes crashing against his chest and the air leaves me in anoomph. But instead of any discomfort, all I feel is relief. Instead of any pain from his violent grip and hard body, all I feel is joy.
He carries me a few steps ahead before putting me down on the ground and spinning me around. He crowds me against one of the hedges and I realize they have prickly vines and scrambling branches. They dig into my upper back, my bare shoulders, my arms, my neck and I smile. Isn’t it the most fitting thing in the world that I’m being stared down by the Wrecking Thorn, all angry and violent, while real thorns bite my skin?
