Page 114 of The Golden Boys
The comment brings back the deep frustration that’s never out of reach. “Believe me, Jules, I’ve tried to figure it out.”
She’s quiet again and, like always, I hear her wheels turning loudly inside her head.
“Just ask me,” I sigh. “Whatever it is, lay it out there and I’ll tell you the truth.”
Seeing as how I’ve held this info for far too long already, I won’t hold back anymore. Not with her.
She takes a deep breath and then speaks her mind. “Okay, so, how did you two get from point A to point B? From this dark place you’re telling me about, to … where you two are in that pic from tonight?”
It’s a valid question, but I’m not sure I can answer it the way she’d like me to. For starters, West and I arestillin a dark place—present tense. I’m actually beginning to think that’s kind of our default setting.
Dark.
Cruel.
Realizing she sees it too—the contrast between what makes sense and the weird place West and I have settled into—I feel like an idiot.
“Honestly, I don’t know what to say to that, Jules,” I openly admit. “It’s like, a switch got flipped and I just … I don’t hate him like I did at first. And he’s not as toxic as he was either. Don’t get me wrong, though; he’s still no Prince Charming,” I clarify.
“Is it strictly sexual?” she asks. “Like, is that the only thing pulling you two together?”
I think about that for a moment, and then remember that last kiss we shared. The one that made it seem like he knew he’d walk away feeling just a little emptier once we went our separate ways tonight. The one that makes me wonder if he’s thinking about me right now, too.
I mean, is that so crazy?
“I thought that at first,” I reply, “but I’m not so sure anymore. It feels deeper at times.”
She goes quiet to think again.
“What’s your gut saying?” is her next question.
Again, I don’t answer right away, because I want to really search deep before I do.
“I’d like to say I know the answer to that, Jules, but I don’t exactly trust my gut anymore.” And there it is. The truth. The reason I’ve called her tonight.
“Do you think he’s starting to care about you?”
Flashes of the brief moments of clarity I’ve had over the months come to me. Like, when West stepped between me and Mike. When he jumped into the pool to save me. Or when he grilled me about the bruises on my shoulder. The night he spent in the hospital with me.
When he touched me tonight.
“As crazy as it sounds … I think he might. Does that make me delusional?”
She laughs at that. “You’re the smartest person I know, Blue. So, no, that’s not even an option.”
“Then what is all this?” I ask, unashamed by how uncertain I feel. With her, there’s never any judgment.
“Well,” she says thoughtfully, “I think that, despite how things were in the beginning, you’re both feeling something powerful for each other. And most importantly, I don’t think you’re crazy. You’re not imagining any of this.”
She has no idea how big a relief it is to hear her say this. Because, honestly, I wondered if I was misreading his signs, seeing what I want to see.
“My only advice is to proceed with caution,” she gently warns. “As far as I’m concerned,allguys are to be fed with long-handled spoons until proven innocent. Not just West. So, while I’m all for keeping your heart open, never forget to keep your eyes open, too, you know?”
The tension leaves me and I’m so glad I opened up to her.
“Thanks, Jules. You always know what to say.”
“No problem, kid,” she teases. “Just remember this when I callyouwith boy trouble.”