Page 43 of The Cyrano Situation
"I... I didn't know." It was a pathetic response, but it was all I could manage as my mind raced to recontextualize every interaction we'd had in recent months.
"Yeah, well, now you do." Hart turned away again, arms crossed defensively across his chest. "So, if you want to leave and pretend this never happened, go ahead. I won't blame you."
But I didn't want to leave. Instead, I found myself stepping closer to him, trying to understand this new reality.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked softly.
Hart's laugh was hollow. "When exactly should I have done that? While you were showing me text messages from Jules? Or maybe when you were asking me what shirt to wear to impress him? Or how about when you were practicing your perfect first kiss speech with me?"
Each example was like a small knife, showing me how blind I'd been. How selfish.
"I'm sorry," I said, meaning it more than I'd meant anything in a long time. "I had no idea I was hurting you."
"It's not your fault." Hart sighed, the anger seeming to drain out of him. "You can't help who you have feelings for."
His words hung in the air between us, heavy and loaded with meaning I wasn't prepared to unpack. The apartment suddenly felt too small, the walls pressing in as I struggled to process what was happening. Hart had just confessed to being in love with me. And I had no idea how to respond.
"I..." My voice faltered. What could I possibly say? My mind was a chaotic whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions. Jules had been my focus for weeks. Hart had been the one helping me pursue him. The foundations of what I thought I understood were crumbling beneath my feet.
Hart must have read the confusion on my face because his expression shuttered, walls coming up to protect himself. "Forget it. This was a mistake." He turned away, shoulders hunched defensively. "You should probably go."
"No." The word came out more forcefully than I intended. "I'm not leaving, Hart. Not like this."
He didn't turn back to face me. "There's nothing more to say."
"There's plenty to say." I ran a hand through my hair, trying to organize my scattered thoughts. "You just dropped a bombshell on me. You can't expect me to have an immediate response."
"I don't expect anything," he said, his voice flat. "That's the point."
I moved around him so I could see his face. His eyes were guarded, but beneath that guard was a vulnerability that made my chest ache. This was Hart—the person who'd been there for me through everything. Who knew my coffee order and my favorite authors and which movies would make me cry. Who'd spent months helping me impress another man while apparently harboring feelings for me himself.
"How long?" I asked quietly.
Hart let out a shaky breath. "Does it matter?"
"It matters to me."
He looked down at his hands. "I don't know exactly. It wasn't... sudden. More like I woke up one day and realized what had been happening for months."
I nodded, trying to absorb this. "And you never said anything."
"What was I supposed to say, Cyril?" A flash of the earlier anger returned to his eyes. "You were so excited about dating again. You lit up talking about Jules. You were... you seemed happy. What kind of friend would I be if I ruined that for you?"
The kind of friend who was in love with me. The realization sent a confusing mixture of warmth and anxiety through me. I'd never thought of Hart that way. Had I?
No, that wasn't entirely true. There had been moments, brief, quickly dismissed moments, when I'd felt something shift between us. A lingering glance, a touch that stayed a beat too long, laughter that faded into something more charged. But I'd never let myself examine those moments too closely.
"I need to..." I gestured vaguely, moving toward the kitchen table and sinking into a chair. My legs felt unsteady. "I need to think."
Hart remained standing, keeping his distance. "Like I said, you can go. We can pretend this never happened."
"Is that what you want?" I looked up at him.
His laugh was hollow. "What I want stopped being relevant a long time ago."
"That's not fair," I said. "To either of us."
"Fair?" Hart's voice rose slightly. "You want to talk about fair? Was it fair that I had to listen to you go on and on about Jules? Plan your dates? Help you figure out how to kiss him? Hell, how to have sex with him? Was any of that fair to me?"
