Page 85 of The Idiot

All I can do is blink as his suggestions manifest in my mind. Of course, we’ll grow old together. I’ve always thought we’d be friends for life, but holding hands? He wants to hold my hand in public? I don’t have time to dissect the question because he continues with his hypotheticals.

“Does the thought of seeing me with a stripper or some other guy make you crazy with jealousy? Do you wake up next to me and think, ‘God, if I could do this every day for the rest of my life, I’d be the luckiest man on earth?’ And did you tellyourmom that she’s wrong—that the man you’re crazy about will love you back some day, the way that you love him, even when she looks at you like she’s worried he’s just going to break your heart?”

Wait. He…

Jealous?

Crazy about me?

He… told his mom?

I…

There’s a gymnastic tumbling competition in my stomach, doing flip-flops over my turkey. My mouth is open, but nothing is coming out. I need something to come out.

“I… I…”

Face twisting in pain, Murph turns away. “That’s what I thought.”

Oh, my gosh. It makes sense now. It wasn’t disgust with me that I was seeing. He was disgusted with himself for… falling in love with me.

Wow. Murph… loves me. Likeloves me,loves me.

Crap. What do I do? He looks so destroyed.

“Murph, I…”

“Just go,” he whispers.

Go? I can’t leave him after he dropped a bomb like that. And especially not when I’m pretty certain those are tears in his eyes.

“No. We should talk,” I insist, even though I haven’t the first clue of how to talk about this.

Helovesme? He wants to wake up next to me every day? I still can’t believe it.

“Jesse, go. Please,” he mumbles, his hand over his face.

Shit. He’s going into flee-the-scene mode. It’s starting already. He’s such an emotional hermit.

“No. I’m not leaving. You’ll just ignore me again. You always do this—”

“Jesse,go,” he commands, stomping toward his room like a big, angry bearded child in ridiculously sexy sweatpants.

How can he tell me he’s in love with me and then just run off? Don’t I even get a second to process? Damn it, he’s annoying!

“No!” I shout, tromping after him. “I’m not Auggie. You can’t order me around.”

“I’m not ordering you around. I just can’t do this right now.”

“Well, I can’tdoyou telling me you love me and then ignoring me! I’m not leaving until we talk about it.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. Just go. Okay?”

Growling at his hallway ceiling, I waste too many precious seconds. He ducks into his bedroom and shuts the door.

Did he just lock it? What the actual fuck?

“You’re locking me out? That’s mature! I can still talk through the door, you know.”

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