“It’s not. But it does make me wish for the first time in forever that someone wanted to look at me more, rather than less. You’re not even looking at me now.”
She’d kind of thought she was, then realized elbows probably didn’t count. She had to raise her eyes to his face and hold his lovely gaze and not worry that he’d be bothered—because he wasn’t. He actually wanted her to look, and judging by his expression he wanted it very badly.
“Is that better?”
“Well, it’s kind of making my heart beat faster. Does that count?”
She nodded, not sure she could speak. Was he for real with this? Hadn’t he heard her desperate attempts at making them just friends with her thoughts? Friends did not let their hearts beat faster when they looked at each other’s faces. That wasn’t how things were supposed to go.
Yet somehow they were going there anyway.
Her own heart felt as if it were trying to run right out of her body. Her eyes kept trying to swallow him whole, and she was pretty sure his were doing the same thing to her. Something had to be dragging her closer, at the very least. It certainly wasn’t her will. Her will wanted her to ask him again why he’d done it.
And it won by a hairsbreadth.
“Stop changing the subject.”
“How am I changing the subject?”
By looking like you want to kiss me, she thought, even though that was crazy.
She went with a much saner option for her real words.
“I don’t know but you’re doing it.”
“And if I stop, what then? Do you really want to hear about my ridiculous movie-star problems? Oh woe is me, my diamond tiara is too tight. No one wants to hear that, Alice,” he said, though it was his tone that really got her. He sounded so sneering, so dismissive of himself. It beggared belief, when she thought of all the things he’d told her with his words and actions and gestures.
She had to point them out to him.
“You just told me that your mom changed your name toyou. When you hugged me, it felt as though you were a robot just learning what affection was. I almost took out an oil can to lubricate your hugging joints, for God’s sake. It’s understandable that you might want to...you know...maybe hurt yourself.”
“I didn’t really try to hurt myself. Well, maybe I tried to hurt myself a little. But I was just drunk and stupid and right in that moment it seemed like a good idea.” He swallowed thickly, once, twice, before continuing. “Though I want you to know, I don’t think it was a good idea now. I realize how lucky I am to have the things I do—to be healthy and alive and successful.”
“Sometimes it’s not enough to be those things, Bernie. Sometimes we need more than that. We need to feel like we’reunderstood.”
“And you think you can understand me?”
“I know that I’m willing to try. I’m here, if you want to try.”
There was a long, long silence after that. His head dropped back against the bed, and he seemed to breathe in this shaky sort of way for a while. But when she finally worked up the courage to put a little finger out, and just rub it against his crooked arm...
It came out of him in a rush.
“I just don’t deal well with pressure, that’s the thing. It’s always been the thing, but lately it’s like a fucking nightmare. Sometimes I’m so afraid of making the wrong choice that I just don’t make any choice at all. And the bigger I get the worse it is because suddenly the wrong thing is watched by half the world and inside I’m so tiny. I’m so fucking tiny, but I just don’t know how to explain that to anyone. I’ve never dared to say any of this to a single living soul.”
He cursed under his breath, which prepared her somewhat for the last little kicker.
Not enough, however. Oh God, not enough at all.
“And that’s so fucking lonely I could die.”
It was as if he’d spoken with her voice, though she didn’t know how to tell him that. She was too busy suddenly and silently leaking out of her eyes. Something wet streaked down one cheek and she was so embarrassed she went to sit up, so he wouldn’t see.
It was too late though.
“What are you crying about?” he asked, and despite the fact that he did it in the best kind of way—with warmth and surprise, rather than laughter—she couldn’t explain in any manner that made sense. She just blundered words out like a child, unable to articulate her plain dumb feelings.
“Because it’s sad,” she said. “Because it’s sad that this is the way things are.”
