Cameron's mouth was flapping soundlessly in the wind. Her eyes on me and the ring I was still holding up to her in offering, but they didn't stay there long, because this was a premiere, Shrek the Third to be more precise, and this premiere was the exact reason she didn't want us to break-up. She didn't want to talk about us. Didn't want all the coverage to be focused on us, so we'd been faking it. And I've never been so happily miserable, or miserably happy--I wasn't sure anymore--in my whole life.
"You make me miserable. You make me hate you and my life sometimes, but I hate being without you way more than I hate life with you."
"You can't be serious?" Frankie said, frowning at me.
I guess I should explain. That's not what I actually wound up saying and I guess it's a good thing that before I went to Cameron, I went to Frankie first.
"Are you crazy?" Frankie said, still frowning. "You're supposed to be trying to get her out of your hair. Remember? Fake it for a bit, then after the premiere, which is less than a day away, you get to be free. Remember, freedom? Remember that? Remember reclaiming your balls?"
Frowning too, I said, "Maybe I like her in my hair though. Well, if I had any, that is." I laughed, running my hands over my buzz-cut. "Maybe it took all this crap for me to finally realize that I was actually happy with her."
"Or maybe you're an idiot."
A small smile curled my lips. "And that's why I've got to do this."
"Because you're an idiot?"
"Because I'm an idiot I let it get this far. None of this had to happen if I could just be happy for once, I could just learn to be content and not always looking for something better. Because maybe there's nothing better. Maybe she's it for me."
"So you're going to propose to spend the rest of your life with her on a maybe?"
I nodded.
She sighed. "Maybe you really are an idiot."
It's not every day that you get a call from jail. But that day was today for me as I woke up to the phone ringing and later wound up accepting the charges for this collect call. It was Chris.
And just a regular, hey, how are you call from him at this point--and this was after weeks of not speaking, not even looking at each other when we happened to be in the same place--would have seemed odd and out of place, but to get a call him from saying he was locked up for a "public nuisance" charge was more than a little unexpected. To put it lightly.
The whole drive up to the station all I could think is, why of all people would he call me? Why not call one of his flavors of the week? Why not call Javier? Or one of his friends? Somebody, anybody but me.
This would've been the perfect opportunity to get him back for before when I'd put myself out farther than I'd had in a long while and he'd just shut me out without a second thought. He had no idea how hard it was for me to go to him and admit that I needed him and even though I couldn't be foolish/honest enough to just come out with those words "I need you" it was damn close. I'd tried my best and it had meant nothing to him.
And now I'm driving in the middle of night to pick his ass up from a damn police station. He better appreciate this.
"It's your fault this happened in the first place."
He was in the car for less than a minute before he had the nerve to come out his mouth with that. I should've socked him and then proceeded to kick him out, but instead, I just rolled my eyes and said, "My fault? So I'm the one who made you pee in public and made that cop come outta what you call nowhere, but was in fact the very police station that your dumb drunken ass was taking a leak on."
"Well," he said, smiling. "If you hadn't been ignoring me, I probably would've been over in your room."
"You know I don't do sleepovers, so no you wouldn't have been." I glanced over at him again. "And besides, it's not me who's doing the ignoring anymore."
He didn't say anything to this and I didn't try to fill the silence. The quiet wasn't bad, not like I thought it would be. It was just quiet. It gave me a moment to realize that I wasn't mad at him like I should've been for dragging me out of bed for this and then for acting like nothing had changed between us, while making small acknowledgments that it had. And even this didn't make me mad, which kind of made me mad.
I glanced at him at a red light, only to find that he was already watching me. I looked away, almost immediately, and stared at the road, because at least it had the courtesy not to stare back.
He said, "Maybe I called..." he trailed off with a sigh, before starting up again, "Maybe I called just to see if you'd come."
I frowned at him. "So you were testing me?"
He had no words for this and as I pulled into the parking lot, I glanced at him, finding him suddenly very interested in everything outside of the car. Turning the car off, neither of us immediately went for the doors.
I glanced back at him, he was watching me again. I said, "You're an idiot."
He shrugged. I rolled my eyes. Then as if that was our cue, we both went for our respective doors, exiting at the same time. We were walking in silence for awhile and I'd been doing a good amount of staring at my feet and staring at the stars. One nagging thought bouncing around in my head. Kicking at nothing, I sighed, and mumbled, "I missed you."
"What?" he said, looking over at me, a small smile on his face.
"You heard me, you asshole. So I'm not repeating it."
He smiled fully, ear to ear and draped an arm over my shoulder, casually pulling me into his side, like it was the natural thing to do. It wasn't anywhere near cold outside, just a little chilly, but I shivered.
"You cold?" he asked, taking off his jacket without waiting for an answer and slipping it over my shoulders before pulling me against his side again, this time rubbing my arms.
Maybe I should've just let myself enjoy this moment, maybe I would've if I could stop thinking about the day he'd completely ignored me in public and thrown his arm over that other girl just as casually as he was doing with me now, just as casually as he'd once done with Rae and pretty much every girl. This just happened to be my turn. Well, I didn't want it--yes, I did, but that's not going to help me to do anything but wind up becoming another link in his chain--so I pulled away, taking the jacket off and handing it back to him.
He frowned at me. I said, "I can't accept this."
"What? I wasn't asking you to keep it."
"I know that. But this...this thing we're doing. Or this thing we're dancing around, I can't do it."
He was still frowning at me, holding his jacket, probably thinking that that was what this was about. And I wanted to tell him all the little things that I would've told him if we hadn't been ignoring each other. Those little things didn't mean anything, but the fact that he was the one I wanted to tell them to did. Still I said nothing. He said nothing. We said nothing and just went back to walking.
"I'm single." he said, which brought my eyes to him, but his were looking straight ahead. "Truly, this time. No more open relationship. No more relationship at all. Me and Rae broke up a few weeks ago."
A few weeks ago was about the time we stopped talking, I noted, but didn't say this out loud. Out loud, I said, "I'm sorry to hear that."
"You are? Cause we both were happy as hell when it was over." He chuckled. "It was like a weight was lifted off my shoulders."
Fumbling to think of something worthwhile to say, I said, "Oh."
He laughed, glanced over at me. "Oh? That's all you have to say?"
"What am I supposed to say?"
"I dunno. A confession of undying love for me, would be nice right about now."
That made me laugh.
"Or laughing at me works too."
"I mean, I'm sorry but you're not the type I would confess undying love to."
"So who's your type then?"
"I didn't mean it like that. I meant that you're not the romantic scene type. I can't imagine you in one of those ultra lovey dovey moments. You're the open relationship guy. You're the one night stand guy. You're always minimalist when it comes to dating or commitment or any kind of matters of the heart. And any sensible girl knows you don't go around professing undying love to a guy who's probably going to be saying stuff like 'it was like a weight was lifted off my shoulders' when you two break up. And you certainly don't want to already know that a break up isn't just a possible thing, but an eventual one."
He went quiet again, but this time it was different. He was so quiet now that I had to keep looking over to make sure he was still there.
"What?" I said, no longer able to stand his silence. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Why would something be wrong?"
I frowned at him, confused. "You're actually mad about what I said, aren't you?"
"What gave it away?"
I almost started to laugh again, but at the beginning of the chortle he glared at me and shut that down. Looking at him, curiously, I said, "I don't get you. I really don't."
"Sounds like my problem exactly." he said. We were close to his dorm now. Pointing to it, he said, "This is my stop."
"I know."
He didn't walk into his building and I didn't walk away. We both just stood there for a moment, waiting for the other to make their move.
"Aren't you going to go?" I said out loud, but could have just as easily been a question directed at myself.
Smiling, he shook his head and said, "You know, I couldn't see you in one of those romantic scenes either."
"What gave that away?"
Making no comment to that, he leaned in, hugged me, kissed my forehead and said, "Thanks, for coming to get me."
His eyes were smiling at me and rather than fall into a moment I couldn't get out of, even if I wanted to, I said, "That's what friends are for."
The smile in his eyes dulled, then he nodded, walking away.
"And then what happened?"
As soon as Chris had been out of sight, I'd run to my dorm, up the stairs, down the hall and immediately scooped up the phone and dialed those familiar numbers. While Jules and I hadn't been talking as much as we used to, she still wound up being the one I wanted to talk to when I really needed to talk to someone.
"What do you mean what happened? I told you, he walked away."
"You stupid bia!" she screeched, a little too dramatically if you asked me, but she'd always been a tad on the dramatic side. "What does the guy have to do? He's trying. You know he's trying and you're making it extra hard on him."
I just sighed, because I did know. I did know he was trying, but why? Why? Why? Why?! It was all I could think about, why was he trying now that it was me? I'd watched him with so many girls, so many times he had a chance to really try with them, to be a decent guy to them and yet he'd stuck to his usual routine and replaced them nearly as soon as he got them. And it's knowing that that makes me so very disinclined towards taking his trying seriously, because of course he's going to try now. He doesn't have me now. Now he'll put in the extra effort and then I give in and then he gets...whatever it is he wants from me--which leads to another series of why, why, why me--and then what? He moves on.
"And what's this he's not the romantic scene type? He gave you a picnic in a field of flowers...if that's not a romantic gesture I don't know what is."
"He had a girlfriend at the time."
"Barely."
"Still counts."
"Not anymore."
I whined, "So what do I do?"
"What do you want to do?"
"I asked you first."
"The only advice I'm going to give you right now is to just don't be stupid. For once in your miserable life accept the fact that the soundtrack of your life doesn't have to be played by a sad little violin."
What I meant to say was 'whatever' but instead, somehow I wound up saying, "You're right."
Then the silence came and I was so not ready for more silence tonight, so I said, "Jules?"
"I'm right? Did I really just hear you say that?"
"Whatever, weirdo. So what's been going on with you? Shagging any more of my dream men?"
There was a long pause on her end of the line and I groaned, not liking the sound of that. She just laughed, before eventually saying, "Of course not. You know me."
I did know her so that didn't make the long pause any less worrisome, but when she changed the subject, I went with her without any struggle. Plus, despite all my previous fanatical worry over that situation, she'd wound up being right. It was a one-time thing that had meant nothing and seemed to actually work in my favor since I was going to get to meet him because of it.
A lot of things had happened because I'm an idiot. But this was pretty dumb.
Before the premiere, before I made a public spectacle of Cameron and I, before any of that it was morning time. So early, the sun had risen just an hour ago and I'd been awake to see it. And right then I was sitting in the opposite corner of the room from the bed, shoveling cereal in my mouth. One foot propped up on the chair I was sitting in and the other was dangling down. I don't know how long I'd been sitting there, watching Julie sleeping, but now, still not knowing what to say to her when she opened her eyes, I just wanted her to wake up so I could say it--whatever it would be--and get it over with.
I just wanted it to be over.
I should've never done this. That much was obvious, but last night, it had only been a distant warning, a passing thought that had been easy to override and all the liquor and wine and such we'd raced to slide down our throats hadn't done much to help with our reasoning skills.
She stirred. Just a twitch of toes, but I froze and held my breath. I guess I wasn't ready for her to wake up just yet. She rolled over without opening her eyes. I sighed in relief.
What the hell am I going to do? I looked at the door. I could just leave, that's what I could do, I could just leave. And leaving would've felt great. That is, until the next time when I had to see her. Though I shouldn't have had to see her ever again. This was Trace's fault for hiring her in the first place and if he wasn't so deep in this fashion show wrangling I've kicked his ass for that twice by now.
Standing, I headed for the door, but not the one to get me out of here. Or at least not the one to get me totally out of here. I stepped out on the balcony. Told myself I just needed some fresh air. Though fresh air was harder to come by than real boobs in L.A. So maybe fresh air wasn't on the menu, but it felt a helluva lot better standing out here than it did in there.
I don't know why, but I've always liked to people-watch, but not just from anywhere. I always like it to be from a higher vantage point. So yeah, I'm literally looking down on everyone and that sounds bad, but it feels great. That's probably why God put heaven up, I mean, He could've put it down and under, but He chose up for a reason. So how bad can it be to like to look down on other people?
While I was busy feeling closer to God or more egotistical--not sure which one--there was a knock on the door. And not the door that leads out here with the semi-fresh air, but the door that required me to walk back inside to get to. The door that would've totally gotten me out of here.
I started to step back inside, but as I was doing this, Julie began to stir again. Toes wiggled, arms and legs slid about and it wasn't long before she was sitting up. I stopped moving and I just watched her. Watched her as she fumbled around, her eyes not really open, mind probably not fully awake, and just as her hand was on the handle about to turn it, she must've realized she wasn't dressed.
Softly cursing to herself, she scurried around, throwing things every which way, searching for her clothes, but finding only my shirt. The knocking began anew at the sound of all the new sounds. She yelled for whoever it was on the other side of the door to give her a second.
A minute later, she still didn't have anything but my shirt, but now at least she was sort of dressed, as she pulled the door open. It was Frankie.
And suddenly hiding out on this balcony had become yet another dumb idea to add to what would only become a staggering list of dumb ideas. What was I thinking? It's my room. If anyone should've been hiding out it should've been Julie, who shouldn't even have been in my room in the first place.
At the sight of Julie standing within my room, half-dressed, Frankie frowned and stepped back as if to check to see if she had to right room number. And God, I wish like hell she didn't. Or could somehow be tricked into believing that she didn't, but even if this was possible it wasn't possible for Julie to do at the moment. Because at that moment, Julie was too flustered and was too busy stuttering and stammering and generally making no sense to salvage this into a believable lie.
But still I didn't come out of hiding. It was too late. Frankie had already seen Julie in here. So I just waited for her to leave, which she did shortly after, and that's when I stepped back into the room. Turning from locking the door, Julie saw me and nearly jumped out of her skin.
"Shit!" She cried, clutching her chest, as if she was frightened that something inside it was about to be stolen. "How long were you out there?"
"Long enough to hear your great excuses for why you're in my room and dressed in my clothes. 'I couldn't find mine,' was my personal favorite."
"Well, if you could think of something better, you should've come out and said it." She eyed me for a moment, then held her head and groaned, "How much did I drink?"
"Oceans."
She nodded, slowly. "That sounds about right." she said, turning from me to look back at the crumpled sheets on the bed.
For a second, I hoped that she was just as confused as she'd told Frankie she'd been. That maybe she'd forgotten and I could find another way--you know, other than the truth--to explain her being here.
But either the sheets told her or she just plain remembered, because the next thing she said was, "We had sex again?"
My mouth opened and closed, opening with half thought out lies and closing before I could speak them.
She laughed, still staring at the bed with its crumpled, disheveled sheets.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all." she said, still laughing, but shaking her head occasionally now.
I stepped into the room a bit more, but not any closer to her, which was hard to do, but not impossible. "Generally speaking, laughing hysterically is usually a result of something being funny and not the other way around."
She turned away from the bed then to look back at me. And what I'd thought would be laughter on her face was sudden sadness. She said, softly, almost too softly, "I am that girl."
"What girl?"
Answering without answering, she shook her head again and said, "I must be a fame whore. What else could explain me sleeping with you again?" She glanced over at the bed again. Her eyes searching the room, for what--her missing clothes? I don't know. "Oh, god, I'm a groupie. A Justin Timberlake one, no less." she cried--a bit melodramatically if you asked me--sitting on edge of the bed now, her head fallen into her hands.
That wasn't one of those things where you wonder if you're supposed to be insulted, because you are insulted, it's just a matter of how much now. Watching her still crying, I frowned, slightly insulted, but tried to find some words to dam up the tears. "I wouldn't call you a whore or a groupie..."
"Then what would you call me?" she said, challengingly. She stood up, all her laughter and tears swallowed up into her anger now. I glanced at the door that would've gotten me out of this and wondered why the hell I didn't walk out of it when I had the chance. "We're not dating, right?"
"Well," I started, palms up, a gesture I hope she interpreted as 'I come in peace' or at the very least 'I'm not calling you a whore.' "We've been on no dates..."
"And you already have a girlfriend."
"Well, technically, no, I don't."
She paused for a moment; for a moment, she just looked at me. Then she looked away, licked her lips and said, "When did that happen?"
I answered with silence, so she looked for the reply in my eyes. I couldn't tell if she'd found one and didn't like it or hadn't found one at all and didn't like that, but either way, she was crying again.
I just stood there for a bit, letting her cry and hoping she'd stop on her own soon. I didn't do well with crying. Crying was like a dirty room and when people cried in front of you they forced you to wade through their mess. The tears practically begging you to pick up a broom or a shovel--depending on the size of the mess--and I could barely clean up my own messes, being that I was just so much more naturally inclined towards the making of rather than the clean-up crew.
My eyes went to both doors, both looking more and more tempting, but they finally went back to her. Her head back in the cradle of her hands. I went and sat next to her, figuring if I was going to feel awkward I'd rather do it sitting than standing.
She was still crying and I was still being useless. So in an attempt to remedy my uselessness, I put one arm around her, but didn't cuddle her to me, didn't try to really hold on, because I had a feeling if I did she'd turn out to be a clinger. And the last thing I needed was clinging and crying.
With my one arm draped haphazardly over her shoulder, I was still being useless and she was still crying, so I said something brilliant, something sure to inspire her out of her sadness. I said, "Don't cry."
I don't know how comforting all that was, but she looked up at me with no tears. The lack of tears was confusing, but then she started laughing so I stopped looking for tears. I just frowned and rose to my feet, wondering if that had all been a trick.
Taking a few steps back, I said, "Are you bi-polar or something?"
"I wish it was that easy." she said, wiping her face and getting to her feet. And that's when she started taking off her clothes...or my shirt, since that was the only "clothes" she had on at the moment.
I was really backing away now, with arms up like she was the cops and had a gun pointed at me. "Whoa, last night was..."
"A mistake?" she supplied with a nod, but still unbuttoning the shirt. "Yeah, I know. Can I take a shower, though?"
I stared at her for a bit, eyes narrowed as if this was some kind of trick. Nodding, I said an unsure, "Sure."
As the water turned on and she began to sing in the shower, I began to pace the length of the room. Slow at first, then faster and faster as if my feet could burn a hole in the floor and create a new escape route.
I still couldn't believe she was crazy, I mean the first night she'd asked me "What if I was crazy?" I thought it was just some bantering idle chitchat, but now...
Now she was in my shower singing, "Don't break my heart, my achy breaky heart..." and while that song was a guilty pleasure of mine, hearing her sing it at that moment was causing my feet to go into hyper drive.
I guess I can believe she's crazy. Women are crazy. Nearly insane most of the time and then turning completely certifiable once a month. Was it nearing that time for her? Was this just PMS? Maybe I should run out and get some midol for her...
She stepped out of the shower, the steam billowing out behind her like she was a female McSteamy--yeah, I watch Grey's Anatomy, occasionally, so sue me. She didn't say anything at first and like a dummy, I thought that might be a good thing. Maybe she'd calmed down in there, maybe a nice, hot shower was all she needed, maybe she wasn't crazy after all, maybe this wouldn't end badly.
Then she started moving toward me. I immediately backed away, stammering, "I...I..I'm going...I'm..."
I'm sure if I would've gotten a chance to finish that I would've said something brilliant and things would've turned out a lot differently. Only I didn't get much more out than that before her lips were on mine and mine were on hers and she was on me and I was on her and we were back on the bed.
To satisfy my conscience I decided as her lips were heading further and further south that after this round I'd give her her walking papers. In the nicest possible way, of course.
"You can't keep fucking her and then fire her."
Sure that didn't sound very nice, but I never claimed to be though, and besides what option did I have other than to get rid of her? This oddly emotional fucking we're doing now isn't going to bode well for our working relationship and the last thing I need is my personal life traipsing all free and willy-nilly like into my career...well, anymore than it was already bound to, given the Bloodhounds who were always hovering on the peripheral.
"Well, what else am I supposed to do?"
"I dunno, maybe something crazy like...stop fucking her!"
"If it was that easy, don't you think I would've stopped?" I said, frowning at Frankie. Everything was always so black and white with her. Right or wrong. Screw or don't screw. I liked gray. Gray was good. But gray in Frankie's world just meant that I had boundary issues. "But damn, if I thought break-up sex with Cameron was good, Jules is..."
Swatting at those words, Frankie groaned, "I really don't want to hear all the grimy details. I've seen enough to fill in the blanks."
"There's just something about her." I sighed, resting my chin on my fist. "I don't know what it is. I can't put my finger on it and I've put my finger on and in a lot of places on her."
Groaning again and louder, she said, "Please, just shut up."
And I did, for a while. Then a thought occurred to me that surprised me so much that I had to say it out loud to make sure if it sounded as crazy out of my mouth as it did in my head. "I need to get back with Cameron."
Yeah, yeah, it did.
Frowning at me, Frankie said, "What? You were just talking about how great Jules is, so why would you want to get back with Cameron?"
"Cameron is like your favorite food or drink that you've had one too many times. And while at first you thought there could never be such a thing as too many times, then suddenly there was and then you don't want it anymore. You want to avoid it, get away from it and into something new."
"Jules."
I nodded. "Exactly. Maybe Jules is only good to me because I just needed a little break from Cameron."
"So according to this theory, this means?"
"That I need to get back with Cameron."
"Because she's tasting good again?"
"Yep." I smiled, feeling better and better about this. Sure it sounds crazy at first, but I'm sure a lot of left of center, great ideas sounded crazy at first.
"But what happens when one too many times happens again and you want something new?"
When it turned out that I had no answer to that--probably because it was illogical and definitely wouldn't happen, so why worry about it--she sighed. Shaking her head, she said, "You're still doing the same ol' shit."
"No, this is different. It's different this time."
"Uh-huh." She nodded. "So what makes it so different? Why is it so different from every other girl you've ever been with? Why is it so different from when it was me?"
I didn't answer right away, couldn't answer right away, because suddenly my problem turned solution was turning into her problem which she was sure to turn right back into my problem based on my next words. In the end all I had was, "Because I'm different."
And while I'll admit I didn't say that with the most confidence in the world, I don't think it warranted an eye roll. She said, "Oh, yeah, I can tell. You're like a completely different person."
"No, honestly. I am. I'm finally ready to be happy. And I'll prove it to you."
"Prove it to me? How?"
We were both staring into the glass case that held the key to unlocking my life of future miserable happiness. I was giddy.
Frankie said, "Are you on crack?"
Still staring at the jewelry case, I pointed to the biggest, shiniest rock I saw--the jeweler pulled it out with a huge grin on her face, which I took to mean that even with my complete lack of knowledge of engagement rings I'd still went for the right one.
"Try it on." I said, holding it out to Frankie, who was staring at it with a look very similar to the one that jeweler had had.
"What?" She blinked, finally looking up at me. "No, I'm not going to further aide and abed this stupidity."
"Your hand is basically the same size as Cameron's." I said, reaching for her fidgeting hand. "I just want to see what it looks like on a finger, but if you don't want to help me, I can always just get it and then figure that out later."
For a moment it seemed like she was still not going to help me out, but then she sighed deeply, her chest heaving with the effort. With the exhale, she reluctantly held out her hand. Taking her hand into mine, I got down on my knee. Her face fell, her anger fell...for a moment, I could see it. It was the look that said she thought this was some kind of elaborate set-up for her.
And for that moment, I was thrown and almost started considering why it wasn't for her. But just thinking about thinking about that made my head hurt, so I didn't. Then pushing ahead with the original plan, I said, "You make me miserable. You make me hate you and my life sometimes, but I hate being without you way more than I hate life with you."
The surprise was gone and her face had fallen back into stoic lines. "You can't be serious?" Frankie said, frowning at me.
Standing up again, I frowned right back at her. "What should I say instead? I was trying to speak from my heart without being cheesy about it."
"Are you crazy?" Frankie said, still frowning. "You're supposed to be trying to get her out of your hair. Remember? Fake it for a bit, then after the premiere, which is only a day away, you get to be free. Remember, freedom? Remember that? Remember reclaiming your balls?"
"Maybe I like her in my hair though. Well, if I had any, that is." I laughed, running my hands over my buzz-cut. "Maybe it took all this crap for me to finally realize that I was actually happy with her."
"Or maybe you're an idiot."
A small smile curled my lips. "And that's why I've got to do this."
"Because you're an idiot?"
"Because I'm an idiot I let it get this far. None of this had to happen if I could just be happy for once, I could just learn to be content and not always looking for something better. Because maybe there's nothing better. Maybe she's it for me."
"So you're going to propose to spend the rest of your life with her on a maybe?"
I nodded.
She sighed. "Maybe you really are an idiot." She stared at the ring that was still on her finger, stared for awhile, like she was mesmerized, then she sighed again. And on the exhale, she shook her head and slid the ring off, placing it on the counter. Backing a few steps away from it, she said, "So what about Jules?"
"What about her?"
She smiled and nodded to herself as if something had just been confirmed to her. Whether it was good or bad, I couldn't tell exactly, since she didn't say anything else.
Speechless must have been the running theme of today, because Cameron's mouth was flapping soundlessly in the wind. Her eyes on me and the ring I was still holding up to her in offering, but they didn't say there long, and the longer she looked around at all the eyes on us, the more anxious I was getting. Plus, I was just tired of holding this on bended knee stance. When she looked back at me, her eyes swimming in emotions I couldn't even begin to read, I said, "Say you'll marry me, or I'll just have to stay down here and my knee is starting to hurt."
She smiled at this for a moment and for that moment I felt good. I felt like it was going to end well for me. I was going to get to rub this moment in Frankie's face. See, I wasn't crazy. This makes perfect sense. It was perfect.
If Cameron needed a big gesture to get her to understand she had me, it couldn't get much bigger than this. And it couldn't get much more publicity. And it was for that reason, looking back on it, I wish like hell that Frankie would've pushed that question: What about Jules? I should've given it real thought. I should've.
But who would've thought Julie would be there to see this first hand, let alone care so deeply? I guess I should've.
