Lasagna

Vinny Vitale

           

I can not freaken' breathe.

Not when he's sitting next to me, on the couch, chomping on potato chips like he didn't just confess the world's biggest (maybe) secret to my whole house yesterday. I mean, he did, right? That's what he meant? He likes me too, right?

Can't you two see he has someone right here? He doesn't fucking need Liam! He has me! ME!

I'm shaking, that's how scared I am. Like, I have to sit on my hands so he doesn't see I'm fuckin' trembling. He holds the bag of chips in my direction, but his eyes are still on the TV.

"I'm good," I say, and it is a god ordained miracle that my voice sounds normal.

"Suit yourself."

He's acting like nothing happened. He came in here this morning and plopped his skinny ass on the couch next to me, like he didn't know I hadn't done anything but think about him, and his stupid confession, and what the fuck I was supposed to do/think/say about it, for the past 24 hours.

I was too petrified of running after him yesterday. So I didn't. I had called him a few times after he left, but he had turned off his phone. This is the first time we've talked since yesterday morning.

"Jim—" I try, but he cuts me off.

"We're not talking about it."

I turn to look at his stupid pretty boy face for the first time since he's been here. "Jimmy," he is still looking at the TV. I refrain from staring at the perfect slope of his nose. "Please."

His response is shoving a sloppy, generous fistful of greasy chips in his mouth so he doesn't have to talk to me. He starts chewing, but there's so much in his mouth it's getting all over him. He continues chomping like a cow, ignoring me. I want to smile because the whole thing is just so James Carver.

It's so James Carver that I want to kiss him and squeeze him and he's reminding me of exactly the reason I am so in love with him, so instead of being the petrified Vinny, I am strong.

"Say it again," I ask him. It takes everything in me to say this. I am not confident like Jimmy. I was never going to confess anything to him. Nothin. Ever.

Slowly, he turns his head towards me. He is still chewing this handful of potato chips, so his cheeks are puffed out and his lips are so wet and I smile. He is frozen. "You heard me," I announce, suddenly feeling powerful. "Say it again, Jimmy. Say it to my face."

He starts chewing again, but he keeps his big brown puppy dog eyes locked on me. He swallows, licks his lips, then swallows again. "I told you," his eyes start shifting so they're anywhere but my face. "We're not talking about it."

I wanna fuckin' smash his head under the couch pillow, but instead, I say, "I just want to know if you meant it, James. Just give me that. Please."

He reaches into the bag of chips and shoves another handful in his mouth. I swear like a sailor and fall back on the couch. He's giving me nothin. I just need the tiniest confirmation. The absolute smallest confirmation, and then I can confidently throw myself on him and kiss his face until he cries of laughter.

I just want him to be mine.

"Fuckin' A, Jimmy," I say after a while. He's still chewing on potato chips next to me. "I need something," I turn to him, pleading with my eyes. "Something."

He stands up and makes his way to the kitchen. I hear him put the chips back in the cabinet. Again, I fall back into the couch cushions because fuckin' Jimmy. He's leaving.

The front door chimes, but I don't hear it slam. Instead, I hear a dorky little voice calling, "Hey Vin?"

I bolt for the doorway where the kitchen meets the living room so I can see him before he runs out again. He's standing at the front door, halfway out of it.

We stare at each other. Neither of us moves a muscle until Jimmy says, clear as day,

"I meant it."

And then I fall against the doorframe and he's slamming the front door shut. I see him in the front window, taking off in a full sprint down the street.

Fuckin' Jimmy.