“Anti-social Butterfly?” I offer, as if in a trance.
It’s one of my favorite stores in Bardstown. They have such feminine and lacy and floral things that I’d spend hours there, just browsing if not buying.
“Yeah. That’s the one.”
“Y-you saw me there?”
He nods slowly, his eyes all filled with memories, glinting, looking so intense. “It was before you were about to start at Bardstown High. I was counting the days, actually. When you’d get to my school. I mean, I knew Ledger would be a bitch about it, but at least you’d be there. Where I was. At least I could see you every day. But anyway, I saw you at that store and you were picking out dresses and laughing with your friend or whatever and I had to go in. I had to see you. Just for a little while. So I did, and I watched you come out of the dressing room, showing off your daisy fresh dresses to your friend. And you looked so pretty in every one of them and I wanted to buy you the whole fucking store. I wanted to… give you everything you ever wanted. But anyway, nothing happened that time. You didn’t stumble. I didn’t make you dirty, so I thought it was all in my head and Jesus Christ, I was so fucking happy. I was so ecstatic, like I’d won something. That I didn’t have to be away from you anymore. I mean, except for your brothers, but fuck them, you know?
“But then on the first day of school, you were getting out of Ledger’s truck and I think you saw me, my Mustang, and you squinted your eyes against the glare maybe and the next second I knew, you stumbled again. And I thought to myself, ‘Fuck you, Jackson. Why can’t you stop hurting her? Why can’t you just… stop? She’s not for you.’ So after that, there was no turning back. After that I always, always made sure to stay hidden, to not look at you more than normal. Even when I watched you at Blue Madonna, because fuck me but I couldn’t help myself, I made sure you never saw me. You never felt me. Because if you did, I’d hurt you again. I’d make you dirty.
“And then you… you showed up at my party and despite all the promises that I made myself, all the good fucking intentions, I couldn’t stop myself from going after you. And God, you were so… innocent and pretty and so fucking gorgeous when you danced for me. I felt guilty. I felt so guilty for making you do that, for watching you like that, for wanting to kiss the fuck out of you when your brothers showed up just to make them understand that I wouldn’t stay away from you. I wouldn’t.”
His hands are clenched now, his voice tight and angry as if he’s reliving that moment back in the woods. And I want to go to him and tell him that…
I don’t know what I want to tell him except that I love him.
I love him so much and I didn’t expect this. I didn’t know and God, please can I just tell him?
I don’t care if he says it back to me or if he hasn’t realized it yet or if he never realizes it. I just want to love him and he looks so lonely and angry and defiant standing there with his fists clenched and I…
He swallows again and his eyes, wolfish and pretty, flash with something. “Anyway, you know everything that happened after that. Except… except the night you gave me that sweater. The one that I never wore — I couldn’t after what I did — but I keep it. I keep it close and I think that was the night that I felt something. I felt a pain, a longing. That was the night when, instead of bringing you back to your brothers, I wanted to take you away. I wanted to keep you for myself. My fairy. Who made such a beautiful gift for me. No one had ever given me anything before that. I didn’t know what to do with it… I… That was the night, yeah. That was the night I wanted to take you away and…”
“Roman?”
My voice brings him back to the moment. It makes him focus on me.
Even though he’s been looking at me all this time, I know he wasn’t really seeing me but now he does. He does see me and his features arrange themselves.
They arrange themselves in a look that’s even more determined than before and yet, there’s this openness in them. An openness like he’s exposing something.
His thoughts, yes.
But more than that. His soul maybe.
“I never tell you anything because I don’t know how,” he says thickly. “I’ve never really told things before. I’ve never really shared things with people. I never had anyone I could share things with. And that has been okay with me. Because I was always bogged down by other things. I was always too wrapped up in my own shit to… take a second. To stop and to take a breath, but I want you to know this. I want you to know the thoughts in my head, Fae. Because you have the right. Only you have the right to know.”