Page 83 of The Accidental Dating Experiment
Breathing through the empty ache inside me, I step out of the bathroom and face my fears. No costumes, no playing, no student-teacher game right now.
I lift my chin. “My mom wants to hire a dating coach for me in the city.”
Monroe blinks. Swallows. Then after a long pause, says, “I’ve heard they’re good.”
“I turned it down,” I say, meeting his gaze. His blue eyes are brimming with sadness too. I get it. It’s hard when you can’t be what the other person needs, even if you want to. But wanting something isn’t enough. You have to do the work. I do more of it as I find the guts to add, “I’m picking myself as my next relationship. The thing I learned from all of this was that it was never going to matter who I chose. All my positivity hid the fact that I didn’t know how to do vulnerability. Some self-sabotaging part of myself was picking all the wrong guys. And when I did find someone decent, I kept him at arm’s length and then wondered why he didn’t want to stick around.”
“That’s not true,” he says, always my biggest fan. Funny, how he needled me for so long, but underneath it all, he was right behind me, believing in me.
Except, he’s wrong.
“It is true. I want sparks and butterflies, but I settled because I was scared. I wanted the reassurance of a relationship without the risk of one. Then, with you, I was truly open. And that’s what I need to do going forward. But it’s going to take me longer to get over this week than it took me to get over Mister Cheese Douche, so I’m going to take my time.”
He furrows his brow, then says, like the words are strangling him, “Like some time off from dating?”
I nod, resolute. “Yes. I need to work on myself. I need to get over…my wish for next week.”
He steps closer, reaches for me, his lips parting, his voice flooding with genuine emotion as he whispers, “Juliet.”
He sounds heartbroken. Maybe he is. I don’t think I can handle his heartbreak right now. Not when I feel too much of my own. I hold up a stop sign hand. “I understand all your reasons, Monroe. I respect them.” A car engine rumbles nearby, then cuts off. I glance toward the bedroom door as if I can see the front door and, likely, Rachel beyond. “But right now, I need to just…do my makeup and meet you at the party. And then my friends and I are going to do karaoke after.” I flash him my best smile, meaning it this time. “I won’t make you do karaoke,” I say playfully.
“But I would,” he says, reaching for my hand, trying to hold on. “I want to be the man for you. Know that.”
It almost sounds like he’s imploring me to stay. But his eyes brim with both hope and, I think, resignation too. He doesn’t think he’s capable. He doesn’t think he ever will be.
At least, he’s being vulnerable too. That’s all I can ask. “I do know that. Thank you for being honest.”
He’s not asking me to wait for him though. He didn’t then. He’s not asking it now.
There are words, and there are actions. I need both. I deserve both. Monroe knows it, and the fact that he knows makes me fall a little bit harder.
But he’s not able to catch me.
“I’ll see you at the party,” I say, and since Rachel’s here, I leave.
31
PITY PARTY
Monroe
Supposedly, when one door closes, another opens. But I’ve never been a big believer in that adage. You have to open your own damn doors, and close them too.
But this time I literally believe it, since seconds after Juliet takes off with my heart in her hands, Carter strolls in. My football-playing friend jerks his gaze behind him as Rachel and Juliet drive off. Then snaps his focus back to me, assessing me with shrewd eyes. “Dude,” Carter says, shaking his head as he strides across the living room.
And…that’s all it takes for him to read the room.
Standing in the hallway, still shell-shocked, still hollow as a jack o’ lantern, I shrug. Listlessly. “Yeah.”
“Seriously?” he asks, quirking a brow as he confirms his take.
“Yes, seriously,” I say, voice dead.
He stops a few feet in front of me. “You’re just letting her go?”
I wave a hand. “It’s complicated.”
“Heart surgery is complicated. This is easy.”