Page 35 of Poetry By Dead Men
“I’m not upset.” I say, raising my chin. It's a lie.
“But—” He reaches for my face again, my swollen eyes, but I take a step back, “You’ve been crying. Are you telling me this isn’t about Noah? Are you saying you’re crying because ofme?”
He looks nauseous, his face pale and eyes wide with panic. He flexes his fingers as if he's having to hold himself back from pulling me closer.
“I’m crying because I came to see your show, and was waiting for you backstage, and then I saw you come out of your dressing room with your arm around another girl as she giggled and fawned over you like you were some famous rockstar. AndthenI watched you get in a cab with her, leaving me behind at said show.”
“Beth, that girl is at most of my shows. She’s a friend of my cousin. I’ve only met her in passing, but tonight she came to my dressing roombefore I had the chance to find you again, and she was so drunk. It didn't feel right just sending her back out into the crowd.”
“Don’t lie to me, Bobby." I take another step back, my spine pressing against the scratchy bricks of the porch wall. "Iwatchedyou get into that cab."
Bobby runs a hand through his hair. “I sat in the cab to try to get her address so she could get home safe. If you’d kept spying on me for thirty more seconds, you would’ve seen me climb back out and come inside to findyou. And then you could have watched me panic and embarrass myself because you were justgone. I thought something had happened to you! God, Beth! I thought you'd been hurt.”He throws his arms out to the side, his jaw ticking.
My cheeks turn red, and suddenly I'm not feeling so self-righteous. Was it possible I'd really misread the situation that badly? Bobby’sneverlied to me. Not once. But his story doesn't explain everything.
Like telling me to invite Noah tonight. And the way Kelly giggled and touched him. Was she really so brazen she'd act that way with a stranger? His arm had been around her, and he’d smiled down at her like they’d been sharing an inside joke.
“I’m not upset about you wanting another girl, Bobby. But you just left me there. Or—I thought you just left me there.” I'm not so sure anymore.
“You th—You think I want another girl?” Bobby stutters. He blinks repeatedly, shaking his head as his hands drop to his sides. He looks defeated, or maybe it’s shock I’m seeing in his hunched shoulders and wide eyes. “You think I have any interest, at all, inanyoneelse?”
I press my lips together. “I don’t know,” I finally say, confused. He treats me like I’m his best friend, like I’m more than that, but then again, he’s never expressed how he feels. Not explicitly. Not with words.
Bobby’s voice turns rough as he steps closer to me, taking my hand. He leans into me as if pulled by a magnet, his calloused fingers grazing my skin as the other hand comes up to cup my cheek.
“Beth, you’reallI think about. I didn’t even notice your date had left tonight, because even though it was maybe the most important nightof my career, every time I looked to the side of the stage, all I could see wasyou.” Bobby’s chest rises and falls with shallow breaths that mirror my own.
My stomach churns with nerves as his gaze flicks between my eyes, and my heart pounds so hard there's no room for my lungs to expand. I can’t tell if I’m leaning into his touch, or if the world is actually tilting sideways.
“But I—” My thoughts spin too fast to keep up with. “You’ve never said anything. I— I thought—” I stutter, unable to form coherent thoughts.
“I was waiting for you,” Bobby steps back and starts to pace, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t want to influence your decisions. You took this huge risk applying to NYU, but honestly, I don’t know if you even want to go there. You’ve been accepted into all these amazing schools, and the whole world is open before you, and I didn’t want to make your decision even harder for you.”
“That’swhat this is about? Where I’m going tocollege?” I throw my arms out. I’m yelling, too overwhelmed with my emotions to control my volume, and my neighbors are probably all listening through their open windows, but I can't bring myself to care.
“It’s about letting you take control of your life!” He paces faster, his footsteps heavy and rhythmic. “I don’t want you to choose something because you think it’s what I would want. Just like I don’t want you to choose something because it’s what your parents want.” Bobby takes a deep breath, his voice softening. “I don’t think you realize how special you are. How much you have to offer the world, and I just wanted you to make this decision for yourself before I told you how I feel. I was trying to do the right thing, Beth.” Bobby finally stops pacing, closing the distance between us. “But then you look at me, and I watch poetry come from your perfect lips and— And it makes doing the right thing so damn hard."
“Howdoyou feel?” I ask. I need to hear him say it before I can believe this is happening. I need to hear thewords. Because that’s how I seem to understand emotion—carefully chosen letters put togetherso intentionally, you have to understand their meaning. My mouth is dry and my skin buzzing as he threads his fingers through my hair, tilting my head back to stare directly into his eyes.
I feel vulnerable, but I don’t want him to look away this time. This moment, it’s intense and terrifying and he's holding me so close, but I somehow still need him even closer.
“I feel like I saw you that day in the cafe and a spotlight was turned on, aimed right at you. It was like I suddenly realized I’d always been missing this huge piece of myself and never knew it. I feel like you’re so beautiful I can hardly breathe. That I can’t think or write about anything other thanyou, and I feel like, even though I’ve never tasted your lips, I know every curve and crease of them, because the feeling I get watching them as you read me a poem or one of my songs is a high I will spend the rest of my life chasing.”
He leans closer. So close, I can feel his breath mixing with the intense energy that always seems to crackle between us. My stomach flutters, and my body feels like it’s on fire.
“I feel like from the moment I saw you, you’ve beenmine. And I’ve been yours, and this thing between us is one of those once in a lifetime love stories your poets write about. Except I don’t want you to stay in New York for me. Because we're bigger than that. And I know that no matter where you go, or what you do, therewillbe a time for us. But I want you to chase your dreams first, because that's what you deserve.”
“I’m going to NYU,” I say breathlessly.
“No, Beth.” He shakes his head, his lips tilting down and his forehead creasing. “This is exactly what I don’t want you to do—choose a school so we can be together.”
“Bobby,” I put a hand on his arm, and he freezes, his fingers tangling deeper into my hair as he tilts my head back further, like he doesn't know whether to pull me close or push me away. “I called my parents on my way home from the show. I told them I applied and got accepted to NYU. That I want to be a writer.”
"You—" Bobby swallows, his throat bobbing. "How did they take it?" His body is taut, so still I’m worried he might fall over with the slightest breeze.
I shrug. “They disowned me,” I joke. “I’ve been packing my things to move into the poorhouse.”
“I won’t let you live in the poorhouse.” Bobby's voice comes out like a prayer, rough and begging for some sort of salvation as he takes a step closer to me.
