CHAPTER 24 #2
Jamie’s eyes bounced between mine for a beat before he looked away. “You don’t have to lie. You’re an adult, Daisy. You can do what you want.”
A part of me found it funny that he thought I was lying.
I was always an open book to Jamie, but he wasn’t looking closely enough now.
“He doesn’t treasure the kids the way I do,” I murmured to Jamie, fingers tightening around his palm.
“How can I be with someone who doesn’t love one of the biggest parts of me? ”
Jamie said nothing. He was probably thinking, That’s what I’ve been saying all along.
I drew in a deep breath, savoring the scent of Jamie so close. We’d never dance like this again—there’d be no reason to. We rarely ever hugged. This was probably one of the last times I’d be in his arms like this, swaying to the band in the middle of the grand ballroom.
“I should’ve called you Wednesday,” I whispered, closing my eyes. “Not him.”
I wanted to confirm the butterflies I’d been feeling weren’t for him, I would’ve said if I was brave. That they were for you.
It barely made any sense, but I’d needed to know, once and for all. I needed to cut any and all ties. But in a way, maybe it was a good thing I’d called Dalton—it saved me from making a fool of myself in front of Jamie.
“I’m sorry for stringing you along with all this,” I went on, feeling bolder with my eyes closed. “The fake relationship, dealing with Dalton, the miscommunication. I’m sorry for making you do this for me.”
“You never made me do anything, Daze,” Jamie murmured. “I did it all because I wanted to.”
“You didn’t.” I blinked my eyes open, finding his chin tipped down as he looked at me. “You said it. ‘The things I do for you, Daisy Carmichael.’”
“That doesn’t mean I didn’t want to.”
“You kissed my neck that night because you wanted to?”
Jamie, as the jazz music swelled, said nothing.
“See?” Even though my throat felt tight, I forced myself to smile. “I took for granted how selfless you are, Jamie. And I’m sorry.”
“Just—stop.” A muscle in his jaw jumped, something hard passing over his gaze. “I’m not selfless.”
“You’re more selfless than me.” And then the words I’d been thinking for weeks finally, horrifyingly, slipped out. “Because if you would’ve kissed me that night, I would’ve kissed you back.”
I had one second of blissful unawareness before I realized what I had said.
Jamie suddenly stopped dancing. His feet froze on the dance floor, cutting us off mid-step, a strange expression stiffening on his face. “What do you mean,” Jamie began slowly, “you would have kissed me back?”
Panic. Pure, undiluted panic. It shot through me like electricity, zapping every nerve ending. There was no taking back the sudden confession, no laughing it off—not with the intense way Jamie stared down at me, as if I’d said the absolute last thing he’d ever expected.
I gaped up at him for only a moment before my fight-or-flight instinct kicked in. Without thinking, I wrenched out of Jamie’s arms and immediately spun on my heel, nearly wobbling in the stilt-like shoes, and rushed off the dance floor as quickly as I could.
Nellie’s face grew in my peripheral as she tried to catch me mid-flee. “Now?” she whispered as I passed, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t even look at her, world tilting too violently to look anywhere other than straight ahead.
I left the ballroom, snaking down the hallway, escaping without really thinking about where I was stumbling off to.
It made sense that I ultimately found myself pushing open the heavy door to the library, the dim light warm and inviting and nothing like the bright room I’d left behind.
Idiot, I thought to myself, kneading the heel of my hand into my forehead. Idiot, idiot, idiot.
I partially blamed it on Nellie for putting the idea of confessing fresh in my mind, but this was my fault. My fault for letting these feelings get as invasive as they had. My fault for not nipping things in the bud earlier.
The sound of the door opening behind me had my skin prickling all over again.
“Daisy.”
Of course Jamie had followed me. He always would.
I actually debated going over to the windows and seeing if they’d open. We were on the ground floor. A totally doable drop.
“Answer me,” Jamie said from behind me, the words like a compulsion in my head. “What do you mean you would’ve kissed me back that night?”
“I would’ve kissed you.” I didn’t want to face him, but I found myself turning almost as if someone else controlled me now, lifting my arms helplessly.
“I almost did at Lydia’s party. Five seconds, Jamie.
Heck, two. Two more seconds, and I would’ve kissed you.
I’ve been going crazy thinking about it.
These past few weeks, I’ve been thinking about it.
” I scrubbed a hand down my face, effectively smearing Nellie’s hard work with my makeup. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”
Jamie’s eyes were wide—wider than I’d ever seen them behind the frames of his glasses. Freaked out. Had to be. “This whole time.” He took a slow step further into the library, closer to me. “You’ve thought about kissing me this whole time?”
Of course he hadn’t noticed. Because it hadn’t been like that for him. It was almost humiliating, thinking about all the times I’d been convinced he’d been about to kiss me. Like when he’d climbed the tree to my room. Or when we’d been dancing at Downtown. He hadn’t thought about it at all.
“Maybe you noticed I’ve been drawing you since freshman year,” I went on, on a roll and unable to stop. “You helped Junie blow-dry my sketchbook. You had to have seen Kit. You didn’t think he looked like you?”
“Daisy.”
“I know it’s weird!” I cringed a little at the sound of my name on his lips. “I—I know you think it’s weird, and it’ll ruin things, and I know you don’t feel the same way. I’ve just—I don’t want you thinking I still want Dalton when the only person I want is you.”
The near-shouted confession hung in the air like a stench, unable to breathe around, and my chest ached with the lack of oxygen. I didn’t want to look at Jamie—in fact, at that exact second, I’d have been content to never look at my best friend again—but my gaze lifted on its own accord.
Jamie’s eyes were still wide, his lips parted, his glasses slipping down his nose. I didn’t want to look any closer at the expression, too afraid I’d find horror, or disgust, or something equally as shameful in his eyes, but I still couldn’t look away.
I couldn’t breathe, but Jamie drew in a sharp breath, one that hitched his chest, and he let it out slowly, still not turning away.
Something about that look—that awful, unbearably intense look—made my stomach drop. “Stop looking at me like that,” I told him, voice shaking.
Jamie didn’t blink. “I’m looking at you the way I’ve always looked at you.”
“No, you’re not. You’re looking at me like—like you want to touch me. Like you want—to kiss me. You’re looking at me like you flipped the Romance Switch, like there are other people around to see it, and there’s no one else. It’s just us.” Stop looking at me like you love me.
“Daisy.” Jamie said my name quietly, and the frantic feeling underneath my skin suddenly stilled. Jamie’s voice was even, level, and loud enough that there would be no room for misinterpretation. “I am looking at you the way I have always looked at you.”
And for the first time, I heard exactly what he meant.
I am looking at you the way I have always looked at you.
Like he loved me.
“Selfless.” Jamie took a slow step forward, as if he didn’t want to startle me. His chest rose and fell fast, but his words were soft, almost breathy. “The night of Lydia’s party, when you said it for the first time, I felt sick.”
How do you know I’ll do what’s good for you? he’d asked me when we sat in his car.
And I’d replied, Because you’re the most selfless person I know. I trust you.
“Selfless,” Jamie echoed again, taking another step forward. “As if I’d kissed you solely for your benefit. As if I hadn’t done it because I desperately wanted to.”
Now I was the one struck speechless, and even though Jamie’s voice was smooth, my heart started hammering hard in my chest. I could hear the pulse roar in my ears. “Jamie,” I whispered, but the sound was barely audible.
“As if I haven’t been taking liberties this entire time.
” Jamie stopped a foot in front of me, and up close, I could see that he was trembling all over, as if an electrical current ran along his skin.
“As if every time I held your hand, or pulled you close, or nearly kissed you, wasn’t because I was taking advantage of the situation.
This entire time, I’ve felt so sick to my stomach because you trusted me to do the right thing, and I was too selfish in pretending it was real. ”
A wave of dizziness actually had me swaying in my heels. “Jamie.”
“I was afraid you’d be able to tell how pathetically in love I am with you.” Jamie took another step toward me, almost as if some invisible force drew him closer. He came to a stop just before me, close enough to touch. “I mean, Daisy—how could you not tell?”
My brain was slow to wrap around it all, words that were obviously English but sounded more like gibberish. Nonsense. Not real. “You were so good at pretending—”
“I wasn’t pretending. ‘The things I do for you, Daisy Carmichael,’” he echoed what he’d said before.
“Like finally getting to be with you how I always dreamed, but knowing it meant nothing to you. It was self-inflicted torture, but I wanted it. I chose it. If it meant I got a glimpse of what it’d be like to be loved by you, I’d choose that pain again and again. ”
I almost felt like I needed to put a hand out, to brace myself against his words and what they did to me. I could feel myself unravel, the hope and longing I’d been shoving down finally coming to the surface. “You look at me… like you want to write about me?”