Well, now. You heard her say BIG, right?Just making sure.
“Your middle name andfavorite color?What the Hell does that have to do with fucking? Because that’s all we’ve been doing. And don’t get high and mighty with me Brooke, you don’t know shit about me. I don’t know shit about you either, because we both agreed it would be just fucking.”
“My God, Delaney. Whoever broke your heart ruined you for every other woman after her, huh? What are you afraid of?”
“Clowns, mostly.”
“What?”
“Yeah, clowns kind of freak me out.”
“You are the biggest asshole I’ve ever met!” she screamed.
“Then you definitely shouldn’t waste any more of your time on me.”
“YOU have an answer for everything! Can you talk to me seriously for a minute? Fuck, Delaney.” Then she added in a low whisper, “I think I’m in love with you.”
Okay, so that statement caught me a little off guard, especially when she looked as if she were wiping away a tear from below her eye.
And for a small moment, a very small one, I considered what she said. Then, I watched her expression carefully; defiant stance, hand on hip, the other hand swiping at a pretend tear, eyes fixed on mine, and a daring smirk across her face. I read people for a damn living, and she was lying her ass off. That’s not love. I’ve seen love. And if that’s the kind of shit Brooke thought was love, I didn’t want any of it from her.
“Brooke, five minutes ago you told me that you know nothing about me. How can you say you love me if you don’t know me?”
“Delaney…”
“You don’t even call me by my first name.”
“Jase…”
"Did I forget to tell you about my wife and kids? That's okay; I didn't mention my herpes, either—did I?” I said, annoyed.
“You better be kidding around!”
“The point is Brooke, you don’t know. You don’t knowme; so don’t tell me you love me. If you don’t want to continue with the way things are, that’s fine. But Brooke, I’m not offering anything else. I can’t.”
“Jase, I’m standing here crying in front of you. I want to know you better.”
“No. You’re pretending to cry in front of me, and I told you I’m not offering anything else. It’s your call.”
“Are you going to be sleeping with someone else?”
“Here comes the crazy,” I mumbled, grabbing my boots and stomping my feet into them. My own damn hand made for a better relationship than anything I’ve had in the last few years. Looks like I’ll be hooking up with that every night from now on.
“Okay, fine. I’m sorry I asked about the stupid tattoos.” She took a deep breath and gently put her hands over my chest. “I just want to know if maybe someday we could talk and get closer, maybe…I don’t know.”
“Whatever, Brooke. I gotta go.”
“You think you could find someone better than me?” she whispered as I walked out the door.
“Nah, Brooke. I’m not looking for anything or anyone,” I said, closing the door behind me.
And that was the truth, because for the last few years I’ve Googled Charlotte Stone and have never found her, so I just stopped looking. Every search came up empty, like she had just disappeared. Being a cop isn't like it is in the movies. You can't just run someone's name and find his or her location. We aren't allowed to run a name through the department's computers unless it's part of a case. Besides, if she never committed a crime, her name wouldn't turn up in our criminal databases.
I just wish the memories could have gone with her, because I can still see her in front of me.
I don’t remember exactly how old we were, maybe thirteen, I don’t know…I remember it being the second or third week of eighth grade and sitting in the back of Honors Literature. “Jase? Jase…” Mrs. Kaplan called out from in front of her desk.
I pretended not to hear her. I was too busy staring and daydreaming about the back of Charlie. She had curves all over. Even from the back of her, I could see the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips, and the slope of her neck… I could even tell the crazy thoughts that were probably running through that head of hers as we sat there reading throughRomeo and Juliet. She’d probably read that damn play over a thousand times.
