The admission hangs in the air, and while the weight of saying it is off my shoulders, the anticipation of his response takes its place.I turn around, slower than when Heart Eyes found me in the bathroom, somehow just as scared, and our eyes meet.He stares.
For a long time.
Then his gaze drops to the door, checking that it’s still locked, before he glances up and straightens.The energy shifts.There’s a momentary internal struggle where all the annoyance and hurt and frustration I feel tries to fight against the pull I have toward Wes, butit’s an uneven match.My anger vanishes like the body of a villain at the end of a slasher.All that’s left is eye contact, thick air, blood rising under my cheeks, and liquid warmth stirring up low in my belly.
“Can I say something?”
His voice is barely audible, but it sends something visceral down my spine, something that makes me shuffle on the spot when I nod.He takes a step back, props himself against the shelves four steps away from me, not breaking our eye contact for a second.
If we were in a rom-com, this is where he’d confess how he feels, or maybe he’d just do away with the whole speech, say “fuck it,” and cross the room to kiss me.I wouldn’t mind either option.I wouldn’t mind anything that would progress the plot.Anything, until he throws his hands up in the air and grits out, “I fucking forgot.”
Jesus, did he hit his head in the last five seconds?
“What you were about to say?”I ask incredulously.
“No.I forgot why I was here, tonight.”
I frown.Point to the door.“To catch the kil—”
“For an hour, I was able to keep an eye on what was happening in that room, and then I sat down at your table, and I saw you… and it wasover.All I could concentrate on was you—I don’tdothat.I’m trainednotto do that, but you made me forget why I was here.”
Oh.My.God.It’s happening.
“And then you started talking about murder and—” His scoff is humorless.“I wasn’t forgetting anymore, and I also couldn’t help but notice that you fit the victim profile.You’rehistype.But the thing is…”
He rubs a palm over his forehead in frustration, letting out a sharp exhale before he looks squarely at me and says, “You’remytype, Jamie.You are one of a kind and just my type.”
Oh no.That hits hard.Like a knockout punch.Like the first on-screen kill.Like the first on-screen kiss.Especially when he lets out a deep, helpless sigh and shakes his head.
“Even when I walked away, I still couldn’t get you out of my head, and because of that I wasn’t watching the room, and I missed who turned that light off.I missed something that could’ve stopped all of this before it happened.”
Pain crosses his face, the kind that comes from knowing something as harmless as a light switch would lead to devastating consequences, and that makes me take a step forward.
“Wes, that is not your f—”
“And now?”
He’s so far through his admission that I have no power to stop it.No desire to.
“I can’t stop myself from thinking that if this wasn’t happening, if this had been a normal night, if that psychotic asshole was terrorizing someone somewhere else… I would’ve tried to take you home.”
His eyes lock with mine again, and I’m reduced to sweaty palms and heavy breathing.I’d thought eating street food without any repercussions was my best-case scenario, but now that I know it wasn’t, that something better was within reach… I want it.
“I wouldn’t have waited until tomorrow to find out if we matched.I would’ve taken you out for a drink tonight and listened to anything you had to say about any fucking type of film, and I would’ve wanted to know what you thought.”
It plays out across my mind like an eighties montage.Complete with frosted edges and seasonal wardrobe.
“I would’ve kissed you in the middle of a rant about Ghostface or Dahmer or some Leading Lady, because I wouldn’t have been able to help myself, and when I got you home, when I had you laid out on my bed…Jamie…”
His voice drops even lower.It’s an admission I’m not supposed to hear, but I still catch it, and my blood flares up in my veins.
“God, I would’ve done anything just to hear you scream my name.”
The room falls silent again and all I can think is:Holy shit…
I’ve heard a lot of romantic speeches.I know all the elements.I’ve analyzed them at length.And as far as declarations go, that was pretty.Fucking.Spectacular.
Even though I’ve witnessed someone’s throat being slit tonight and discovered it was nothing like the movies.Even though I watched a documentary on the pork industry and knew the process of gutting long before I’d seen it happen in real life.Even though this whole thing is somehow happening because of me—I can’t deny that I will replay this moment in my head for the rest of my life.Even if the rest of my life is reduced to a few hours.
