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She wouldn’t care about Mr. Darcy, hockey, or anything outside of school. She’d retreat back to her comfort zone. Books couldn’t hurt her. Assignments couldn’t hurt her.
Mr. Darcy: Goodnight, dear Elizabeth. For what it’s worth, I missed you today. You wouldn’t have if you knew who I was.
Was he flirting with her? People didn’t flirt with her. She had no idea if he was flirting or not, and Molly and the girls were out at the party so she couldn’t ask for best friend guidance on best practices for flirting. Mr. Darcy: I can almost hear your brain whirring from across campus. Yes, I’m flirting. Yes, I like you, and if you were here, I’d absolutely kiss you right now, even if you do have strings of cheese dangling down your chin.
Mr. Darcy: If I need to dial back the flirting please say so. If I need to dial it up so it’s more obvious and something you can more readily identify, I can do that too. But I like you Miss Bennet and I would absolutely be kissing the hell out of you right now if you were beside me.
What could have happened to her that was so bad she didn’t want him to see her body? Who had made her feel so awful about how she looked that even after he’d told her she was beautiful, she wanted to hide?
He needed to do whatever he could to convince the vibrant, strong, and incredible woman who was tangled in her own self-perceptions, that she was everything.
“Giving me the power of the Nerd rope? Wow. You seem awfully confident we’ll last, Mr. Darcy.” “You have bewitched me body and soul, Miss Bennet. Body and soul.”
“I don’t care if it’s that something happens and you need me, you miss me and want to see me, or you miss me and wanna fuck me senseless, I will always be there for you. Always. So please don’t hesitate, don’t second guess yourself, if you want to see me, just ask and I’ll move heaven and earth to make it happen.”
“I’m making a bouquet of stationery.”
“Both. So the stuff in the Mason jar is common usage and this…” He held up a fountain pen and a small bottle of ink labeled “Writer’s Blood.” “This one is for the ‘touch and die’ pile.” Accepting the small bottle, Russ leaned back in his seat and studied the label. “Is it her birthday?” “Nope.” “Then why?” “Felt like it?”
“I knew you were a helpless romantic under all those fuck-off-vibes.”
“Love is giving someone the power to hurt you – like, real bad hurt – and trusting them not to.
Cleo opened the bag, pushing the pale pink tissue paper aside and slid her hands around the neck of a glass bottle. “Pink moscato. The boy can pick a wine.” Molly plucked the bottle from her hands and admired the bottle. “For you at least. The rest of us have standards. Would it have killed him to grab a good Merlot?” “Ew.” Cleo wrinkled her nose in disgust. “He knows I’d never touch the stuff.” “Yes, but I feel like he needs to work harder to win over your best friend.” Cleo pulled a raspberry lemonade scented bath bomb from the bag, followed by a pink clay face mask, a multi-pack of Russell
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He pulled her arm again, and led her to him. “I’m not here just for the fun times, Cleo.” He snaked his arms around her, folding her into his chest. “Break down if you need to break down. I’ll be right here to help you pick yourself up.”
“Do whatever the fuck lights you up inside. Do it shamelessly and unapologetically. Life is too short to live in the shadow of where you really want to be. It’s too short for regrets.”
“You can’t love me.” She shook her head but couldn’t stop his words sliding into the cracks of her heart, wrapping their warmth around her. He couldn’t love her. He shrugged. “Miss Bennet you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
“You think that just because you don’t love yourself, no one else can love you? Well here’s evidence to the contrary, Cleo. I love you.” He thumped his chest twice. “I love all of you. The confident air you wear in public and the vulnerabilities you don’t let anyone see. I don’t care what your grades in school are, I don’t care what shape your body is, and I don’t care if you’re tone deaf and love singing crappy pop songs at the top of your lungs in the shower.” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “And I’m sure as hell not ashamed of it. I don’t care who the hell knows. I’ll head over to the
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Nothing he’d said to her was untrue, but it twisted like a poisoned dagger in her stomach. Maybe she could sleep away his words, her actions, and she’d wake up to everything being okay again. Maybe she’d wake up and his love for her would be enough for her to start to love herself.
“My opinion on your life? That’s none of your business. It doesn’t matter, or shouldn’t matter anyway.” Eyes trained on the steaming mug in front of him, he kept fidgeting with his ring. “I’m sorry you felt pressured into doing things I wanted you to do, like you had no other option, no room to express your own… well, anything, I guess.”
“I don’t think people ever really need to know why someone loves them, but you do have to work on accepting the fact I do.” He slipped the hand cupping her face behind her head and drew her to him, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace. “I’ll tell you every day for the rest of your freakin’ life until you hear me, Cleo. You’re beautiful, inside and out, and I love you.”
“My beautiful Athena… when we get back to your apartment, I will worship you like the remarkable goddess you are. But for right now? I’m going to fuck you senseless.”
Half a dozen chocolate cupcakes in one hand, a bottle of her favorite crappy wine in the other, and an engagement ring burning a hole in the inner pocket of his blazer, he let himself into their new home. “Cleo?” “In the kitchen!” The smell of paint lingered in the air, and stacks of precariously balanced boxes crowded the space. The house wasn’t huge, but it was theirs, and they’d both worked incredibly hard to be able to afford the down payment.
“Marry me, Cleo. Be the Elizabeth to my Darcy for the rest of our lives.”
