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A massive house. Flowers of all shapes and sizes. Magnificent parties, filled with the rich. And yet still, he didn't notice me. I even took him up in my hydroplane, but he still didn't seem to see me as anything more than his eccentric neighbor. It seemed like no matter what I tried, Nick wouldn't see me as anything more than that. Either he was blind to the signals I was showing, or he simply wasn't interested. Or maybe I was blind to the signals he was giving out. Either way, I was getting nowhere with him.
And so I decided to try a different approach. I pretended to be madly in love with his cousin, Daisy. It was believable enough, as she was pretty, and I a single man. But Nick was the only one I truly had eyes for. And I told Daisy that. She was well aware of the fact that I was in love with Nick. She was an excellent actress, and played the part of long-lost lover well. And no one suspected who I was really in love with. No one, except for Jordan Baker.
She pulled me aside one day during a party, even before I started my charade with Daisy. At first I thought she was about to complain about one of the guests, but I quickly realized that was not the case.
“Mr. Gatsby. Mind if I ask you a personal question?” She said in a demanding voice.
I assumed she wouldn't take no for an answer. “Of course.”
“Now, you don't have to answer this, but if you don't, it'll basically be the same as answering.” She glanced around for a moment, making sure no one was around. “Are you in love with Nick Carraway?”
Well, she certainly was astute. I knew she was a bit of a gossip hound, so I was a bit wary about where she heard that. But since she knew, I saw no point in denying it. “I suppose I am.”
“I knew it.” She said victoriously. “I swore I saw you looking at him like a lovelorn schoolgirl.”
I sighed. “I trust you won't tell him?”
Her eyes widened. “You mean he doesn't know?” I shook my head. “You should definitely tell him. I think he's getting desperate.”
“Desperate?” I asked. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” she leaned in closer so as to whisper. “He’s tried to flirt with me, in a rather pathetic way, I might add. I can tell his heart isn't into it. And besides, I’m not exactly into that.”
“He’s… wait, what do you mean, you're not into that?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not interested in men.”
Ah. That explained a number of things. “So, he doesn't know that I…?”
“Nope.” She said, shaking her head. “And you had better tell him, or else he’ll run off with some southern belle and not think twice about what he really wants.” She smiled slightly. “He likes you, though. I've seen it. He looks at you the same way you look at him. Those sad, lost puppy-dog eyes.”
I felt myself turning red. “I don't… he doesn't…”
She snickered. “You’re a real softie, you know that, Gatsby?”
Before I could reply, she was out the door, back into the fray. I stood there alone for a moment, contemplating what to do next. I could tell him. In fact, I probably should tell him. But was that the best road to take? I didn't have concrete evidence that he did, in fact, like me back. All I had was the advice of Jordan, who was not known as the most trustworthy of sources. I'd have to keep an eye out and find out for myself.
Fast-forward to the present. I was now stuck in a predicament. Nick now thought I was in love with Daisy, and Daisy knew I was in love with Nick. Daisy’s husband, an oafish sort of man named Tom Buchanan, was starting to suspect something, and Jordan had been of no help in this whole situation. I suspected she was silently making fun of me through this entire thing, because of the sheer pettiness of it. Although, if I had taken her advice, I wouldn't have been in this situation.
Daisy and I devised a plan to try to deal with this whole problem. We would go to dinner at her place and invite Nick and Jordan, and then I would have a loud and obvious falling out with her. I would then sulk back to my own house, effectively ending this unfortunate charade I had gotten her involved in. She would then send Nick after me, to make sure I was alright. And then I could tell him. I could tell him everything.
But as the plan rolled out, things began to deteriorate quickly. The day was unbearably warm, and Daisy got cold feet, so she suggested we drive into the city to try to find somewhere that wasn't mind-numbingly warm. I wasn't entirely opposed to the idea, however the act of sulking home may have been slightly altered to merely sulking out of the room. However, Tom clearly had immense distaste for me, as he insisted that I drive Daisy there in his coupé. Which would have been fine, had the car not been scorchingly hot. Nonetheless, I obliged, and we arrived at a high-end hotel relatively quickly. And then, things began to get worse. I began to try to start my loud breakup conversation with Daisy, when she again got cold feet. And naturally, Tom had to swoop in to be the hero. He made a number of remarks on various aspects of my personality, which anyone in their right mind would find rude. I wasn't in love with Daisy, but if I was, I would have been glad to take her away from this horrible brute. And then, he made the worst remark of them all.
“I suppose the latest thing is to sit back and let Mr. Nobody from Nowhere make love to your wife!” He said, his voice becoming progressively more irritated.
Finally, I stepped in. This had gone on long enough. “I'm not making love to your wife, you fat oaf.”
He looked as if though I had just backhanded him across the face. “Then why are you two always whispering to each other? What are you planning?”
I glanced from Tom, to Daisy, to Jordan, and finally my gaze settled on Nick. He seemed stunned at the whole ordeal, not quite knowing what to think. To be fair, I was having trouble dealing with it myself, so I couldn't blame him. I took a deep breath. “Well, Mr. Buchanan…”
And that moment was the moment when I realized my life was not going to be the way it had been before. There was no going back to the casual, lavish parties. No returning to the normal. It was either reveal everything to them, or dash out the door.
However, I soon discovered I would not have to make that decision, as Daisy gave a great cry and ran out the door. Since no one appeared to want to follow her, I took it as my queue to leave. I made my way out of the hotel, and found Daisy sitting in my car, which Tom had driven.
“Do you think that was convincing enough?” She asked, patting a handkerchief to her eyes. “I’m sorry I got cold feet. It just… didn't feel right.”
I looked over my shoulder to make sure no one had followed us. “You did fine. Now, let's go quick, before someone follows us.”
We made it back to her place without incident, and I dropped her off. I spent the rest of my silent ride back home wondering how exactly the rest of this would play out.
An hour or so later, as I sat in my study, one of my servants informed me that Nick was at the door. I had the servant bring him in, and close the door behind him.
Nick had a panicked expression on his face, like someone who just saw something terrible happen and didn't quite know how to put it into words. “Gatsby, there’s something important you should know.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What is it, old sport?”
He took a step closer to my desk. “Tom hit a woman while we were driving back. I knew it was his secret mistress the minute I saw her. But he just drove away. And then, when the husband of the woman asked about it, he blamed you.”
I frowned. “Me? Why?”
“He thinks you had an affair with his wife.” He said. “You didn't, did you? I know you claimed you did, but it… didn't make sense.”
I shook my head. “No, I didn't. It was a sort of charade.”
“Why?” He asked, folding his eyebrows. “Wouldn't that make more trouble than necessary?”
“It seems like it.” I ran a hand through my hair. “But believe it or not, old sport, I did it for a reason.”
“It must've been a good reason.” He said. And he definitely wasn't wrong.
I realized I had to tell him. I couldn't keep going on like this, playing him like a card in a deck. So I took a deep breath. “You may want to sit down.” He sat, and I continued. “I did it all, not because I was in love with Daisy, old sport, but because I was…” I began to feel myself blushing. “Because I am… in love with you.”
It took a moment for it to set in. He stared at me with an incredulous expression. This was all starting to go downhill very fast. “Me? Gatsby, I… I don't quite know what to say.”
“If you want to leave, I won't stop you.” I said. “But I just wanted you to know the truth. I’m in love with you, and no one else.”
“That's…” he paused. I braced for the worst. But the worst didn't come. “That's a relief. I was worried all of my pining was for nothing.”
Wait, what? Were my ears hearing correctly? “You mean…?”
He slid the chair he was sitting in closer to my desk. “Gatsby, I've been in love with you since the moment we met.”
I felt like my heart was about to leap out of my chest. “You have? I thought for the longest time you were pining for Miss Baker.”
“Jordan’s a little out of reach.” He said, shaking his head.
I then realized I had no idea where to go from there. I had always imagined what telling him I loved him would be like, but I had no idea what to do after that. For a moment, I just sat there, stupefied, eternally grateful that he felt the same way I did. Luckily, he seemed to be experiencing the same bewilderment I was at the current situation. And then his brain decided to work again.
“So, what do we do now?” He asked, his face turning slightly red. I had never fully realized how cute he looked when he was embarrassed.
I thought for a moment. “Well, I believe now, we kiss.”