"AGH!" Eliot continued. "Jeez, things have been so strict for me lately because of Warren. Maybe because of the inauguration too? Dang, grandma's gonna kill me if I forget my speech again. She's been so tough on me as of I'M going to be the president." He groaned. "No one cares about VP, do they? Armani always gets all the glory."
Roselle swallowed her food. "Don't say that. You're very important to this country."
"You really mean that?"
"Yeah, but I'm not flattering you, dummy. What I'm saying is, the Vice President is important to the country too, so don't go around being an idiot! Learn your speech. Even if you feel like you don't know what you're doing, at least PRETEND that you do. You're going to be a leader now. Be a good example."
As Eliot absorbed those words, he stared off into space as if he were having an existential crisis. "I'm going to be . . . a leader now . . ."
"Uh, Eliot?"
"Ah?"
"Earth to Eliot."
"AhHhHh . . ."
"Yoo hoo."
"Why did I even run in the first place, dammit?! I'm gonna suck!"
"You're not gonna suck."
"Yes I am!" He buried her face into Roselle's lap out of nowhere.
Oh jeez, how awkward could this guy get?
"Uh, there there." Roselle patted his head, but only dabbed on it lightly. "I'm sure whatever you need to do, Armani will let you know."
He lifted up his head. "You're right!" Eliot took a breath of relief. "Oh man, what would I do without that guy?"
She stuffed her face into the crepes again. "Nom nom nom nom."
The door opened again, and in walked King James. "Hmm," he intrigued. "Well, if it isn't the culinary casanova. We meet again."
Eliot flipped himself around and pointed at him. "Watch yourself, king-boy."
James tilted his head at him and smirked. "Would you be a dear and allow me a moment together with the little rose?"
"But I just got here," he whined.
"Eliot Scott," warned Roselle.
"Fine." Eliot dragged his feet out of the room, leaving them alone.
"So, what did you want to talk to me about?" Roselle asked.
James walked over to her and examined. "I was just checking to ensure your health condition was stable."
"Well . . . It's stable."
"Actually, there is something I wanted to ask." He walked around the room as he continued speaking, viewing and touching things he probably had no business viewing and touching. He laughed for a while, though it was soft chuckle.
"What are you laughing for?" She crossed her arms. "Spit it out."
"If you'd please, could you show me a bit of mercy with your attitude, peasant? Admittedly, I'm feeling rather anxious."
"Anxious? I didn't think you ever felt that way."
"Amazing, no?" He stared at her for a second. "It's almost as if I'm a human being rather than a soulless lizard person."
Roselle flushed red. She remembered that time in the diner when they had a heart-to-heart and hated when people made assumptions about him. "Oh . . . Right," she said meekly.
He came back over to her bedside and studied her once again. His dark eyes were so intent on her. It was like he could see right to her core just to condescend upon what was inside. She lifted the blanket over herself as if it would help, but it didn't.
"Why do you keep looking at me like that?" she asked. "You're freaking me out."
He didn't flinch. "My apologies, Roselle. I don't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I'm just ecstatic you're still here. I was incredibly concerned when I heard about your accident."
"Well, you don't need to worry. I'm fine. More or less, anyway."
"Can I be blunt?"
"When are you not?"
"When I heard what happened to you, it aroused a certain feeling within me for you . . . It's something difficult to explain." He locked eyes with her. "It was a deep sense of compassion and panic. Nostalgia and sorrow. Lust, attachment, and affection." He clutched the fabric in front of his chest. "This feeling . . . What is it? Why does it pain me so? All I know is, I want you to be mine, little rose. I want you all to myself."
Roselle had to persistently remind herself to keep breathing, because if she didn't, she'd forget and faint. "What are you saying, James? Stop covering up what you're trying to say with all this fancy talk and cut to the chase. Are you saying . . . you're in love with me or something?"
"I don't know. To be in love with you would be to lower myself to your level." He shook his head. "I feel . . . so confused. Why? Why have you bewitched me this way, peasant? I can't be in love with you, and yet, I want to be with you more than anything in the world. You're the only person that I feel outmatched by and it infuriates me, yet simultaneously thrills me! I loathe you for making me feel so . . . grounded. So normal. I thought I was King James to the world, but to you, I'm just on the level of any other man."
"You don't love me, James." Roselle pursed her lips. "I think you're just confused."
"How can you ascertain yourself of that?"
"Do you even hear yourself? You want me to be YOURS. You feel frustrated because I outmatch you and you want me to be beneath you like the 'peasant' I am. When you love someone, you don't try to pull them down. You bring them up. You don't demand them to be yours. You offer your heart to them. Even when you want me to be with you, you still talk so selfishly. You realize that, don't you?"
He looked to the left, probably taking her words into consideration. "You know, little rose, I think you may be right. I can't possibly love you when I say all these things right? My, this is a relief. You're a genius, peasant!" James lifted himself in the air and dusted himself off. "This isn't love. It's simply . . . a yearning infatuation."
"You're happy about this?"
"Well, of course. I'm the king. I can't love another. I can't afford to. Loving someone else would potentially put me in peril. Thank you for putting your opinion into perspective. It's much obliged."
"Uh, no problem?"
"With that being said, may I ask you a question?"
"What is it?"
"Do you love the future president? Moreover, does the future president love you?"
Roselle processed that question in her mind for a bit so she could come up with a solid answer. "I don't think I'm in love yet, but it could reach that point if we grew a bond. For Armani, I think he feels the same. Still not love, but it's going in the right direction."
"What's caused you to believe that Armani is on the path to loving you?"
"Well, I guess . . . ever since we were kids, we were best friends. He'd always be there for me, and I'd have his back too."
James put his hand in his cheek. "How about recently? What has he done for you to prove himself?"
Roselle racked her brain to think of a few things. "Well, a few months ago he came to my house to propose."
"So he asked you to be his all of a sudden, then suddenly got engaged to Lily as soon as you rejected him."
"The story is more complicated than that." She thought more. "Okay, here's one. On Christmas, we bonded a little over decorating the Christmas tree, and he got me a really thoughtful gift. A rose gold hairbrush."
"So, he bought you a present. I've bought you a present as well. It doesn't obligate you to be mine. Please, continue telling me what wondrous things he's done to gain your affection." The sarcasm in his voice was coarse.
"Well, the other day he broke off his engagement and put his father-figure in prison because he tried to murder me! That must have been hard, right?"
James looked down upon her this time. "I believe it's time YOU heard yourself, Roselle. You told me love is giving yourself to someone else, but you've been giving yourself to him even though he hasn't been reciprocating at all."
"Why are you trying to put doubt in my head?"
"I'm afraid that's not what I'm doing at all, really. My intentions are to prove a point. You say Armani loves you, but that's because you want to believe that. You say I don't love you, and that's another thing you'd like to believe. If you really take a close look at the actions of Armani Parker and me side by side, you can see our actions match each other more or less."
She shook her head, but his words were getting to her. "I . . ."
"Never try to tell me how I feel, Roselle. Don't you dare. You may reject me, but don't tell me I don't love you. That's not for you to declare. You have no idea how I feel. Don't condescend upon me like this."
"James . . ."
He headed through the door and opened it, but he turned to her to say one more thing. "I'll see you at the inauguration, little rose. Armani is a lucky man." With that, he was out.