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Doesn’t he want this? Doesn’t he want me?Of course he doesn’t. Who would want me like this? Damaged and broken beyond repair?
He reads the subtle shift of my expression, from lust to blank acceptance, and his eyes flash from sadness to panic.
“Wait–” he says, but I don’t want to wait.
Oh, God.He doesn’t feel the same as me.
It’s more than mortifying. It’s splintering apart my empty glass heart, shards of sorrow and rage that pierce me from the inside in all directions. I feel like I might be sick. I feel like I want to die. I feel like I wish those damned magic pills he’d promised me would relieve my suffering had worked properly and fucking killed me. Because this, here, is the worst moment of my entire existence.
I wrench myself away from him, walking over to the door. “I’m so sorry,” I mutter as I walk away from him. As I walk away from the thing I thought would save me in all of this. The first boy I ever loved. He’s not that boy anymore though, is he? He’s somebody else now. I shouldn’t blame him. It’s my fault he went to prison. It’s my fault he stayed there. It’s my fault he’s a convicted felon.
I shouldn’t have kissed him. I can’t even look back at him as I reach for the door handle.
“Avery, wait.”
I keep my hand on the handle, but there’s no strength in my grip. I stare at the scratched wooden floor of the hotel room, wondering why it isn’t the normal cheap carpeting every Holiday Inn has as standard. Why am I thinking about flooring? It’s my mind’s way of trying to distract me from what’s really happening, I guess. Better to think about ugly carpet than about the crushing rejection of the person you thought loved you back.
“Avery.” Rome’s voice is in my ear, his tone firmer this time. He’s right beside me, reaching slowly for my hand on the door handle. He’s acting like everyone else–like I’m made of glass, like I might break if he so much as looks at me the wrong way.
“Avery, look at me.”
I lift my head so I’m staring at the fire escape plan stuck to the back of the door.Honestly, if this building caught fire right now, I’d probably stay and burn with it.
“Avery.” His fingers reach out slowly, ghosting along my jaw as he gently turns my head to meet his gaze. I can imagine what I look like to him in this moment; a dead-eyed girl, on the brink of madness.
“Don’t go.” He lets his hand drop from my jaw, and the absence of his touch aches immediately.
“I have to go,” I say, hearing my monotone voice ring hollow in my ears. “I shouldn’t be here.”
Rome rests his hand on mine, sliding it off the door handle. “And yet, here you are,” he says, tugging my hand gently so I’m fully facing him.
“I definitely shouldn’t have kissed you,” I say to his chest. I just can’t bear to look into his eyes for more than a few seconds. There’s so much in them, it feels like I’ll burst into flames from the intensity of him. I’m like an ant under a magnifying glass, oblivious, waiting for the sun to hit the right spot and burn me alive.
“I wish you would kiss me again,” he murmurs, tipping my chin up, lowering his lips to my neck and biting gently at the tender skin where my jugular pulses frantically. I let out a small sigh as his tongue glides along my neck, down to my collarbone. He’s careful to avoid the two pin prick wounds that have since healed into twin scars at the base of my throat, a forever reminder of the shock collar I was forced to wear when we were in that hellhole.
I wish he wouldn’t be so careful.
He breaks contact, cupping my face in his hands as he straightens, staring down at me. His expression is … what is it? So many things. Tender. Fierce. Things that shouldn’t be able to logically coexist, but then, we shouldn’t be able to coexist, and here we are. A Montague and a Capulet. A rich girl and a poor boy. A sheltered, spoiled princess and a tattooed drug dealer.
“I meant it when I said it,” Rome murmurs, his lips inches from mine. “You told me I didn’t need to mean it when I said it, but Ididmean it. I did love you. Idolove you. I love you so fucking much. And I’m afraid if I hold on to you too hard… if I touch you too roughly … you’ll break.”
“Tell me you love me, Rome.” A light whisper, like a summer breeze. “You don’t have to mean it. Just say it.”
“I love you,” Rome said. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” It was the last thing I heard as I drifted into death. It was the first thing I remembered when I woke up in the hospital.
I love you, I love you, I love you. Sweet murmurs in my ear until I said goodbye to this cruel world.
I blink away tears. Nobody is that good a liar. He loves me. And my relief unlocks a tidal wave of need that I didn’t even know existed within me.
“I love you,” I say with every ounce of emotion I possess. “I love you, Rome Montague, and you could never hurt me. You could never break me.”
I snap, grabbing at his shirt, my strength and speed surprising me. I’ve been so weak since the hospital, so frail and pained, shuffling about in my sorrow. But Rome’s love, or at least his admission of love, sets me free.
It brings fire to my veins.
It awakens a beast inside me.
An animal reduced to its basest desire.
