He was either blind or stupid.
Actually, she mused, he was probably both. Though she tried to find some, no other adjectives could properly fit him. Not at that moment at least. What words could describe how he didn't see her, not as she wanted to be seen by him anyway, or how every hint she threw out he just didn't catch?
There weren't any.
He said something again, probably about her seeming different again, but she blocked it out. How could she give him the answers he sought? She was in love with him, but he didn't see it, would probably never see it, and she certainly wasn't going to tell him.
She sighed heavily, looking down at the open textbook in front of her, rhythmically tapping her pencil against the opposite page. Dimly she heard her name being called, and she raised her head, meeting dark brown eyes that displayed his frustration.
"I've had it Jace. What exactly is your problem?" his deep voice rumbled with a building anger.
"Royce. Nothing. Let's just finish this assignment please," she said, looking down again, intent on reading. But his large hand came to rest on the book, yanking it and throwing it carelessly onto the carpeted floor.
"I don't get you Jace. I'm your friend. You can talk to me. So why won't you?" he asked, standing to his full, impressive height.
"You wouldn't understand. And it's not exactly something you'd want to hear, trust me," she answered, knowing it was true.
"Jace." he began warningly.
"No Royce. You'd wish you never asked. I know how you are. I know you."
He picked up his book bag that lay flush against her oaken desk.
"You think that? You obviously don't know me then," he near growled, turning to leave.
For a reason she couldn't explain, her own long dormant frustration and heartache rose into an unexpected anger.
"I don't know you?" she asked carefully, standing from her seat. He paused at her bedroom door, his hand on the doorknob.
"But I do Royce. You're the man who's unusually smart, though you refuse to brag about it. You're the man who has to make everyone laugh, otherwise you feel incomplete. You're the man who is left-handed and leans on your right side when you write because of it. You're the one who holds open doors for any girl, who's polite no matter how angry a person may make you. You're the one who loves cars, who's happy working on them," she paused, sniffling softly as a tear rolled down her cheek, her anger giving away to sadness. A cold chill swept throughout the room and she wrapped her slim arms around herself protectively.
"You're the man with the intense brown eyes, eyes that show every thought, every feeling, even if you don't want them to and whether you like it or not. You're the one who I feel safest with. You don't even have to be near me; just being in the same room as me is enough and I know nothing can harm me. You're the man with the large hands that I know can harm but instead are strong and soothing. You're the man with the voice that calms me. You're the one with the gorgeous smile that I look forward to seeing everyday, and miss when I don't. You're the man I trust Royce."
The tears were falling in earnest and she couldn't stem their flow.
"You're my comfort Royce. My protector. And I love you so much that I can't help but notice those things. So don't tell me I don't know, because I do."
Sometime during her tirade, he had turned, facing her. Now, unable to speak, he dropped his book bag and went to her, gathering her now shaking form as close as possible, hoping that somehow, what he felt she could feel in his embrace. He hoped, no, prayed, she could sense those emotions as his arms held her tightly, could feel it in the protective way he gathered her against his hard chest.
She sniffed, pulling her head away from his chest and looking up at him with glistening gray eyes.
"I forgot this, you know," she whispered.
"Forgot what?" he asked, finally locating his voice. Not unsurprisingly, it was deep and tender.
"That you're the man with the hard chest and muscled arms that I want to be wrapped in. And that you're the one with the strong jaw that outlines your outrageously gorgeous face." She traced his jaw as she spoke. "And you're the one whose heat and scent calms me and makes everything better. You make everything better." she trailed off in a whisper.
"Do you really love me Jace?" he murmured.
"Yes," she answered just as softly.
"Is that why you have been different with me?"
"Yes."
"Then let me tell you a few things," he said, a soft smile playing on his lips as his massive hands cupped her face, tilting it so she looked up at him.
"You're the woman who's smarter than me, who can remember dates and facts like no one else. You're the woman who's always writing, and when you do, your hand moves unusually fast and you block everything out. You're the one who makes others laugh, who makes me feel better when something's wrong." His thumb smoothed over her cheeks, gently brushing away hot tears. "You're the one with the gorgeous gray eyes that I dream about, the beautiful woman who, with one smile, can stop a person in their tracks. And you're the woman who is so strong but makes me feel like I have to protect her anyway. You're the woman I want to keep safe, I want to keep happy, I want to make laugh just to see that beautiful smile."
"You're my inspiration for my stories, you know," she whispered.
"Am I?" he murmured back. She nodded gently.
"Royce.." She broke off, her voice shaky.
"Maybe you're not the only one in love Jace."
She couldn't speak, could only lay her head on his chest again, listening to the rhythmic beats of his heart. His hand moved to bury itself in her silken golden-brown hair, while the other rested firmly on the gentle curve of her spine. She felt his heat, smelled that spicy, intoxicatingly masculine scent that was his alone and smiled softly.
Maybe he wasn't as blind or stupid as she had thought.
No, she mused, snuggling deeper into his chest and grinning broadly when he held her tighter.
Not blind or stupid at all.