Chapter Forty
I spend the day as planned: mooning over Jonah.
Now that I’ve realised I want him but can’t have him, it’s torture, and I find myself searching out sad-song playlists on Spotify to deepen the despondency, like pressing on a bruise to see how much it hurts.
Why did Rhys have to put this thought in my head?
I was fine before he landed this crush on me.
I was alone, but content, and I didn’t feel as though I was carrying a boulder around in my stomach, weighing me down every minute of the day (which is dramatic, I know, but my feelings are my feelings and if I could make them vanish and go back to normal, I would).
I’ve listened to all the heartbreak songs and done the cliché eating-ice-cream-straight-from-the-tub by the time Jonah returns to the flat in the evening, thankfully alone, because it’s torturous enough having him in such close proximity without adding his girlfriend into the mix, and at least now I won’t have to feel like I’m sleeping next door to an aviary tonight.
‘Christina?’ The front door clicks shut, and I hear the rustle of a coat being hung up in the hallway. ‘Are you in?’
I contemplate keeping quiet and hiding under my covers for the rest of my life, but I need to get this over and done with. I need to face Jonah and see where we go from here. Can we get past this, or will I be looking for a new flatshare before Christmas?
‘Hey.’ I shuffle out of my bedroom, moving at a snail’s pace down the hallway. ‘Did you have a nice time at the markets?’ It’s an inane question but part of me is hoping we can simply slide past this morning’s revelation and carry on as normal.
‘Not really.’ Jonah gives a wry smile. ‘Had a lot on my mind.’
‘Yeah. Sorry about that. Do you think we can just forget I said anything?’
Jonah shakes his head. ‘Not a chance. You can’t tell me that you like me and expect me to ignore it.
’ He heads into the living room and sits on the sofa, indicating the other end for me to park myself on.
I don’t say a word as I lower myself onto the seat.
‘The thing is, Christina.’ Jonah shifts in his seat, but I doubt he finds a more comfortable position.
Comfort is not something afforded to this situation.
‘I’ve hated seeing you go on all those dates this year.
Not because I didn’t want you to be happy but because it made me insanely jealous.
’ He leans towards me, ever so slightly, and there’s a smile teasing at the corners of his mouth. ‘I like you, Jelly.’
I finally look Jonah right in the eye for what feels like the first time in forever, to see if he’s kidding around. But I don’t think he is. My face grows hot as my heart hammers against my ribcage. ‘Since when?’
He smiles, but it isn’t a joy-filled gesture. It’s quite sad. Resigned. ‘Since always? Since you came to view the flat with your hair in those cute little bunches and you made that joke about the couple across the hall.’
I barely remember the couple across the hall – they moved out a few days after I moved in – let alone the witty remark I made about them. But I don’t focus on this.
‘Why didn’t you say anything?’
‘Because you were getting over Alfie. You weren’t interested in any romance that wasn’t on the screen, and the last thing you needed was me making a play for you.
’ We both smile then, and it’s a relief that my mouth is still capable of the action.
‘Not that I’ve ever made a play for anyone, but you know what I mean.
’ I nod. I do, and Jonah’s right: I wasn’t in a place to start anything new back then.
‘And then I met Freddie and I put my feelings – and good sense – aside for a bit, but then you started dating and it crushed me.’
‘You never said.’
Jonah smiles, and again there’s no joy there. ‘Because we were mates, weren’t we? Jo-Jo and Jelly. You didn’t like me back, so what was the point? We had a good thing, you and me, so why ruin it by confessing my feelings?’ I understand; I’ve been asking myself that question all day. ‘But now…’
‘Now you’re with Paris.’ I hate to be the one to bring her up, but somebody has to.
‘I was with Paris.’
I sit up a little bit straighter. The hammering in my chest ups its battering. ‘You broke up with her?’ For me?
‘We talked, after the markets. She could tell something was up. That my mind was elsewhere.’
Of course she could tell, a bitter voice murmurs in my head. Because that’s the kind of thing perfect girlfriends pick up on.
‘And I said I didn’t think the relationship was going to go anywhere.
She was mildly disappointed, but it was never anything serious between us.
Not like what you and I could be.’ He reaches across the space between us on the sofa and takes my hand in his, and I’m suddenly aware of how sweaty my palms are.
How painful the hammering in my chest is.
It feels as though my lungs aren’t taking in enough air even as my chest visibly rises and falls.
‘I like you, Christina. And you like me?’
I nod, my brain too fuzzy to think words, let alone instruct my mouth to form them. Jonah shifts across the sofa, so we’re sitting face-to-face.
‘What about meet-cute-ing and finding The One?’
I scrunch up my nose. ‘I am so over meet-cutes.’
Jonah smiles, and it’s beautiful. He is beautiful.
And then he closes the gap between us and kisses me.
And there they are: fireworks, firing away in my belly and making my fingers and toes and…
other places… tingle, and I don’t know whether that damn wish I made will ever end, but I know that I could have a million meet-cutes and I’d still want to be with Jonah.