Looking for a long set of seconds at his eyes, his jaw, his lips, she said, “So if I kiss you, it means nothing?”
CHAPTER 24
JIM
“IT DOESN’T HAVE to mean anything. Sometimes a kiss is just a kiss,” Jim said, knowing that was a lyric to some old song. But it was true, right? He backed up a little more as Juliet took another step closer. She’d blindsided him with that question, and he couldn’t get his brain to work well enough to come up with an answer. Or at least, not the answer he knew he should give. “When Romeo and I box, I punch him and it’s an exercise. It’s not a feeling.”
“A kiss is different from a punch,” Juliet said. Her eyes were glistening with tears. Her hair was a mess from the ride over. She was thoughtful and unsmiling. She’d never been more beautiful.
Jim had to think, and stepped back, forcing his body to move away from her.
“He’s kissed her, how many times now? They don’t all mean nothing.” She threw up her hands, as if to count to infinity.
“I’m telling you, they’re no big deal,” Jim said. He knew Juliet’s train of thought wasn’t purely on the Romeo and Rosaline track. He bit his own lip as if holding himself back. Of course he wanted to kiss Juliet. He’d wanted to since they’d met, since she’d held him tight as he steered them over the streets of Paris.
There. It was out now. He’d pulled that wish from the deep recesses of his brain, and the truth was at the forefront of his mind.
No, it was the only thought in his mind.
Yes, he wanted to kiss her.
But he wouldn’t. She was Romeo’s. This would work itself out.
They were all friends.
Young. Alive. Friends.
“Well, then if I kiss you, it should be no big deal.” Juliet had him cornered. Behind him was a monument with a tall stone angel on its top. Its gray wings spread out over them both, to bless or to curse them, he didn’t know.
He stepped to the left, fumbling his feet in the grass. She was the one who’d been drinking but he was the one who was clumsy. Drunk on the possibility of kissing her, nervous about what would happen if he did. He was already carrying around the worry of what he’d told his father about her and Romeo. Would another secret be so bad?
She reached him and, with her hand wrapped tight around his wrist, simultaneously pulled him to her as she pushed him toward a gravestone.
She pressed into him. She had one hand on his wrist and another on his shoulder, as if wanting to hold him in place.
He let his arms go around her. He let his face come close to hers, their cheeks brushing one another. He let himself feel the lightness and the density of her, knowing he could lift her up and carry her to the soft ground and press his lips to her.
The thought of kissing a woman for the first time had never consumed him this way. Usually, it was easy to do, a thoughtless reflex. He left behind wreckage and walked away unscathed.
But he wanted Juliet more than he had those other girls. In fact, everything about this situation was different.
And somehow, using more strength than he knew he had, he gently pushed her away. He didn’t want to, not at all. He hated how much he wanted her and hated not knowing why he wanted her so much. Why did having her, or the idea of having her, mean so much to him? What did it prove or show that he hadn’t proven or shown before with so many other women?
“You’ll regret this,” he said. “I’ll regret this. You’re sad. You’re drunk. You’re not thinking right.”
Juliet looked up at him as though he’d betrayed her in every way possible.
But then she let go of him. “You’re right,” she said. “It’s just Romeo. It’s just me. It’s just us.”
She laughed sadly and stared off over the graveyard.
Jim didn’t know what to say. That “just us” didn’t include him, he sensed. Would it ever, really?
“I’ll take you home.”
CHAPTER 25
JULIET
TODAY WAS JULIET’S birthday. She was seventeen—almost an adult. She closed her eyes, thinking about the almost-adult mistake she’d made with Jim last week.
There’d been no further get-togethers with the three of them, or with just Romeo, but more due to school and circumstances than anything specific. And when she saw Jim and Romeo walking the halls together, she was almost grateful that Capulets and Montagues hated each other, as it gave her an excuse to avoid eye contact with both of them.
Now it was the weekend, and her day stretched out endlessly. She almost wished her father wasn’t traveling, because that had thrown a wrench in the usual Capulet birthday celebration. They would have a party or an outing for Juliet once he’d returned.
She hadn’t yet heard from Romeo but knew he wouldn’t forget. There’d been a note in their secret account early in the week asking what she’d like to do. She’d responded, Surprise me. She wanted desperately to see him and she also didn’t. She wanted answers to all her questions.
Jim was one of those questions. The scene in the cemetery with Jim had been on a loop in her mind all week. How close they’d come and how far she’d known she would go.
She could pretend nothing happened, right? Nothing really did. Jim had seen to that.
But it didn’t mean she wasn’t still thinking about it. It didn’t mean she was glad he had stopped them. Her imagination of the event had made it almost more real than if it had actually happened.
But she’d scrub it out of her mind.
The same way Lu Hai straightened her room, putting away the clothes Juliet left everywhere to make it seem like no damage had ever been done.
Her phone trilled, shattering any illusion in her neat room that her life was all in place.
Jim.
She answered. “Allo?”
Her voice was sharp and she knew it. Her tone, she thought, bore in it the instruction to not bring up the other thing.
“Hi. Look, I’m not calling to talk about us, or whatever. I mean, it is about us, but it’s not. I mean, nothing happened.” Jim was fumbling over his words in a way that made Juliet feel tender toward him. “But I keep thinking about it anyway. And I know I shouldn’t.”
Well, at least she hadn’t made a total fool of herself if he was tormented by the memory, too.
“But you’re both my friends,” he said. “And, um, Romeo texted me. He said how it was your birthday and thought you might like if we all did something. I tried to say maybe just the two of you should do something.…”
“No, all three of us is good,” Juliet said quickly. She didn’t know if she wanted to be alone with Romeo, and she knew that was due to guilt. She couldn’t avoid them both forever but thought her discomfort might be lessened with Jim present. At least she could divide her awkward feelings between the two of them.
“Okay, so we go out with Romeo and we act…”
“Normal?”
“Yes, normal,” Jim agreed. “I’ll call Romeo,” he went on, and his voice soothed her even as it made her heart jump with nervousness. “And I’ll pick you up, since, you know, I can. He thought we should go to that bar in the Petite Asie from the day I first met you both. That’s fine, right?”
“Okay,” Juliet said. She was relieved in a way to have him taking charge, but also a touch wounded that he seemed able to think so clearly and dispassionately about the whole thing.
He had told her it mattered, though. But if she’d really gotten under his skin, why was it so easy for him to basically hand her back to Romeo? He could have had her and he hadn’t wanted her. God, did either of them?
And why was it so important to her? Her head told her to rise above all of it, to go and be the amazing woman she could become. But she could barely hear her head’s rational lies over the truth that beat in her heart.
“I mean, unless … you don’t want to,” Jim said now. And in his voice she heard the same doubt and hope she couldn’t suppress.
“No,” she said, with more certainty than s
he felt. “No. Normal is good.”
“Okay, I’ll see you tonight,” Jim said.
“Tonight.”
Normal.
As if anything in her life had ever been normal.
CHAPTER 26
JIM
HE DIDN’T BRING her a birthday gift. He could have thought of a million beautiful objects not worthy of her, but they were just friends, and newish friends at that. He would buy her a drink and buy Romeo a drink and the world would be as it was.
He did, however, get off his bike and go to the door, like last week. But last week, he’d come as just her friend. Today was fraught with confusion.
He didn’t have time to let his emotional cocktail take hold, because Lu Hai answered.
“Hi,” he said, more intimidated by this woman than he was by any of Juliet’s actual family members.
“You again,” she said. “I open the door and here’s Mr. America.”
“Yeah, um, shouldn’t you be with Juliet? I thought you were her nanny?”
Lu Hai shook her head like this was stupid. “Yeah, she’s seventeen. What am I supposed to do? Stand around until she needs her tears wiped?”
Jim chuckled grimly, not wanting to think what could wring tears from Juliet at this point. “I’m, um, here to pick her up. For her birthday.”
Lu Hai stood back from the door, letting Jim inside. Hélène crossed the foyer in front of him, stopping and raising an exquisitely groomed eyebrow.
“You’re seeing each other very often, non?” she said.
“Well, I like coming to see you,” Jim joked, knowing from Juliet’s descriptions of her mother that Hélène would enjoy the compliment.
Hélène laughed and said, “You Americans have more charm than I’d been led to believe. And I didn’t think boys your age would come to the door for a girl. I like that, even if I don’t like your motorcycle.”
“I’ll be careful, I promise,” Jim said, wondering how he could enjoy that he’d entertained Juliet’s mother while at the same time hate himself for wanting so badly to impress her.
He and Juliet—even the potential for them—could never exist the way he wanted. He knew that Romeo loved her, and he’d come too close to betraying him.
When Juliet came downstairs, he couldn’t help but notice how pretty she was—no, beyond pretty—like the kind of seventeen-year-old girl who made other seventeen-year-old girls fear they weren’t doing this right. (Though the truly lovely thing about Juliet was that she’d never act like this was the case.)
“Maman, Jim is taking me out for my birthday. C’est d’accord?”
“Yes, just make sure you’re not too late.”
* * *
Even though they were out in the open air, he felt like they were boxed in on the bike. And was it just him or was Juliet’s grip on his waist looser than it had been the other times they’d ridden together?
He parked in the back alley.
“Happy birthday to me,” Juliet said forlornly as she walked into the bar just ahead of him. Jim hadn’t brought up Romeo or Rosaline, hoping that she’d worked that out on her own. But what if that wasn’t what was bothering her? Was it possible she was bothered by what had almost happened between them?
The bar was more crowded than it had been that first day when they met. It had seemed so long ago, but it had only been a bit more than a month. There was music playing over the craggy sound system and a band at the front, setting up.
They looked around for Romeo but he hadn’t arrived. The bar’s cheap drinks and proximity to so many hostels meant most of the patrons were their age or a few years older. If not for all the dread in his belly, Jim would have been looking forward to a really good time.
A cluster of girls with patched-up canvas backpacks danced in a circle. He could tell immediately they were Americans.
“They’re pretty,” Juliet said, following Jim’s eyes from the bar to the girls. The shortest one was the most attractive, with a compact body and a long tangle of auburn hair.
“Yeah,” Jim agreed, but without much enthusiasm. Juliet was standing so close to him he could smell her citrus perfume along with the smell of her, a smoky, soapy fragrance that made him want to bury his face in her neck and sleep there for a while.
But her expression was faraway. She looked toward the door without really looking, like an actress waiting to take the stage who’s thinking of her lines as she gazes out over the heads of the audience.
Jim knew she’d have to give a performance. Even if they had stopped short of doing anything real that day at the cemetery, he and Juliet had a secret between them now.
The door near the front opened, letting in light from the street and illuminating Romeo’s familiar lean frame. Jim’s muscles tensed, like he was about to have a duel in an old Western. But Romeo wasn’t there to duel. He was there so that Jim could lie to his face and pretend he wasn’t in love with the love of Romeo’s life.
Romeo waved at Juliet and Jim and strode toward them. The girls looked longingly at Romeo—probably because he was so clearly French and they’d probably decided one of them was going to hook up with a French guy tonight.
But Romeo didn’t even notice them, he seemed so focused on getting to Juliet. The smile on his face when he saw them was easy and happy.
Guilt gripped Jim even harder. He’d wanted Juliet so badly that day that he’d purposely put Romeo out of his head. Even that he’d blurted out knowing about Rosaline—had that been his subconscious attempt to drive her closer to him?
He knew it was.
At least he’d pushed her away.
“Hey, man,” Jim said, fist-bumping Romeo while trying to come up with what to say next. “Need a drink?”
He wanted to buy Romeo a drink desperately. He needed something to do with his money, his hands, his eyes. But Romeo shook his head. “No rush,” he said. “We have all night.”
He pulled Juliet to him and kissed her. “Bon anniversaire, mon amour.”
Jim watched Juliet’s face for a hint of her reaction, but she just smiled and kissed Romeo back.
Like normal.
Jim hated her for a second. How could she?
He had to redirect this energy toward a new target.
The cute girl from the dance floor was coming toward the bar. Toward him.
Guess he had his target.
CHAPTER 27
ROMEO
JULIET HAD GONE to the bathroom. Again.
She was acting strange. A few times, Romeo caught her staring at Jim with concern. And when the little redhead came up to talk to Jim, had Juliet turned away to look at the television above the bar on purpose?
Maybe Romeo was just imagining it.
He had no idea what could be causing her to act so cagey. He flip-flopped between wanting to ask her and wanting to just get drunk and let things be.
Yeah, wasn’t it better to leave it be?
He didn’t know.
She came back from the bathroom, her hair tamed and her lips with a light coating of lipstick. Juliet almost never wore lipstick. She didn’t need it, but it did enhance her beauty. She had on a soft black T-shirt big enough to fall from her left shoulder, exposing the creamy skin there. She’d cinched her waist with a patchwork scarf and wore a worn-in pair of Levi’s and black motorcycle boots.
When she reached them, Romeo pulled her to him. “Get us some drinks, would you?” he asked Jim.
“Yeah, of course, bro,” Jim said.
“‘Bro’?” Romeo wrinkled his brow at his friend. When someone felt like your brother, the term bro seemed to feel like it wasn’t enough. And it certainly wasn’t a very Jim thing to say.
But he let it go and turned to Juliet, taking her hands in his. Her grip on his hands was loose. He squeezed her small palms, hoping for her to return the gesture. He loved the way she held tight no matter what.
When she didn’t squeeze back, he pulled her to him for a kiss. A kiss she accepted but returned with only the slightest of
pressure. “Someone will see,” she said by way of explanation, and looked around the crowded bar as if to prove it.
Maybe she’d just now started to take him seriously, about protecting them. But he was trying to play things her way and not control everything.
He handed her a small box. If he gave her the gift and she was still being strange, then he’d ask what was going on.
“Bon anniversaire,” he said.
Juliet took the box from him and glanced up with a strange expression. “I thought we said…”
“We did,” Romeo allowed. When they’d met, they’d agreed their secret would be safer if they gave no gifts, but it was her birthday and he felt compelled to. Not out of any guilt or duty but just because. “Just because” being the best reason to give any gift. “But I wanted to,” he told her.
She looked into his eyes with curiosity, and he wondered what she expected to see there. He wondered if her feelings of suspicion had been aroused again because of their time apart. But he hadn’t seen Rosaline since the warehouse party. How did people actually cheat on people they loved when it was this hard carrying around guilt for what was essentially nothing?
“Open it,” he said, pointing to the little box.
Juliet bent her head over the package and unwrapped it with great care, peeling back each piece of tape and pulling aside the wrapping paper like whatever was beneath might break if she touched it wrong. Romeo watched in suspense, wanting her to love it.
Inside was a gold necklace with a tiny vial at the end. “Open the vial,” he instructed her.
She unscrewed the tiny cap and pulled out the miniature scroll inside. It read, A.V.O. Ours most of all.
Jim returned with drinks before Juliet could react. Or did she not want to react?
“Do you like it?” Romeo asked. Was it jerky of him to have expected her to seem more grateful?
“Yes,” she said, and now he saw that maybe there was a tear in her eye. “I love it. Help me put it on.”
“What is going on?” Romeo whispered into her hair as he fastened the necklace around her slender neck. “I thought you’d be more excited.”
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