Hearts

four

It had started to rain. Thankfully, by then, Romeo and I were already in our hotel room, tucked under the covers of a king-sized bed, with plates of pancakes between us. We had ordered extremely overpriced food from room service, which Romeo told me was a special treat because we couldn't afford it every day.

Romeo had his laptop in front of him, and he was typing slowly and thoughtfully. The screen was angled so that I couldn't read the words on it, but I assumed that it was the book he had been talking about writing. We had been in a car all day, though, so I wasn't sure what material he could possibly write about.

I had started my own writing project. It wasn't as ambitious as Romeo's book, but it was something to keep me occupied while Romeo did his thing. I had picked up a souvenir notebook at a gas station, and now, I was writing a diary entry. I recorded all the conversations that Romeo and I had within the past twenty-four hours and all the memories they reminded me of and all the things that I felt. It was strange to be immortalizing words that held no significance to anyone other than me.

I thought over our conversation yesterday in the coffee shop. I had been a volcano, spewing words at him as fast as I could, hoping to burn him. I wanted to burn him just enough so that he would accidentally slip and show me even a glimpse of his true emotions. He had taken it all, understanding that he had to wait it out if I was ever going to hear him. He had tried to get a few words in before he gave up. What had he been trying to say?

Of course I care. If I didn't care, you wouldn't—

It suddenly seemed important that I knew. I put my journal aside and studied him. He was so focused on his own work that he didn't notice me staring.

If I didn't care, you wouldn't be alive.

"Romeo."

He looked up from his laptop. "Yeah?"

"Why were you on the roof?"

He frowned. "I thought you didn't want to talk about it?"

I shut my notebook. "I don't."

Romeo put his laptop on the bedside table and crawled over to my side of the bed, being careful to avoid the food. He sat across from me, arms hugging his legs, chin resting on his knees, eyes wide. It was so odd because I could remember us sitting like this on his bed years ago, talking about what we had thought was serious back then. Now, we were adults, hundreds of miles away from home.

Technically, you're not an adult yet, I heard Shawna's voice say in my head. Until you turn eighteen in a few days, you're still a baby.

"It seemed too soon for you to go," Romeo said quietly. "Lives can end for a lot of reasons, but no one should take the liberty of ending their own."

I shook my head. "I was so ready."

"I wasn't," Romeo countered. "I'm assuming you never told Shawna about it, but she wouldn't have been okay with it either."

That was true. Shawna probably wouldn't have survived high school without me, just like I wouldn't have made it without her. And yes, she would have kicked my ass indefinitely if she had found out what I attempted to do.

"I thought about it," I admitted. "Before that night, I mean. And I've thought about it after. But that was the closest I've ever been, and I could have gotten there if you didn't stop me."

I was still conflicted on how to feel about that. Was I supposed to be resentful or thankful?

"Sorry for inflicting the pain of living on you." There was sarcasm in his voice, but he also sounded really sad.