He gestures behind him.
To the city. To the view. To the night.
“Standin’ there, bleedin’ all over the goddamn skyline like you don’t already got me on my fuckin’ knees.”
He leans in,
arms raised,
grin turned stunned.
“On top of three-point-seven-five quadrillion?
“Are ya fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”
He tips his head back
and mutter-laughs in Italian.
“I had a whole speech planned, by the way, for you. Was gonna keep it chill. Say somethin’ smooth about that night. Real half-assed bullshit.” His laugh crumbles at the end. “Then you started talkin’, and I just—fuck. You blew the whole thing up.”
His eyes swing to me, hand rubbing across his chest to calm his heart. Then he shrugs.
“Be loud, Sonny?—
“Be loud. Quiet. Spiraling. In pieces.
“I don’t fuckin’ care.
“Be a mess. I'll still find you in it.
“Just berealwith me, and I swear t'God?—
"I'll be whatever the fuck you need me to be."
He falls silent.
His eyes stay on mine.
Nobody's moving,
and I feel the seconds caving in on themselves.
He thinks he said too much.
I've got more confessions lining up,
piling on my tongue,
and I think I'm ready for them all to slip out.
My mouth opens.
I don’t know what I’m about to say first.
“But Drew, you gotta know?—”
“YO, ROMEO!”
