Shaking his head, the ache in his chest still present, still potent, but still not able to look at Eames, "I don't think I could just be a friend to you... And," swallowing hard again, "I don't want to be enemies." Arthur had thought he could do that, thought he wanted that. But it appears he had been trying to convince himself of that all these years, too.

In light of all of this, he's surprised he knows he wants anything (or at least thinks he knows).