On an Edge of Glass

by Autumn Doughton

  I blush furiously. He remembered what kind of pizza I like.

  “That is…” Ben says slowly, dropping his cello case by the hall table and taking a step into the living room. “If it’s okay with you guys if I crash this cozy little beauty fest, or whatever you call what’s happening here.”

  Mark lifts the pink-tipped nail polish brush in the air. “You want to go next?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t want to take anyone’s spot, so I think I’ll wait until next time,” Ben says nonchalantly as he falls into the armchair.

  I notice that his hair is back in a messy ponytail and he’s got his sleeves rolled up. He looks exhausted from three orchestra practices this week and staying up late the last two nights to work on a new song that he’s writing for Accidental Sweet Tea. The fact that it’s a love song has not gone unnoticed by me.

  After ordering the pizza, Payton slips her phone back into her bag and looks at Ben with interest. “Be-en,” she coos, playfully twirling her hair over her index finger.

  He shifts his eyes to her expectantly. He’s got his elbow bent on the chair and his chin is resting in his hand.

  “Did Nick happen to mention me recently?” Payton asks.

  “Ooooh! Who’s Nick?” Ainsley leans forward so that she can see Payton over Mark’s shoulder.

  I turn my head. “Yeah, who’s Nick?”

  Payton clears her throat. “Ellie, you remember him. He’s the hot drummer for Accidental Sweet Tea.”

  The drummer? A memory tugs. Right. He’s the redhead who stopped the argument between Ben and Drew the night of the Halloween party. The one who was dressed like The Incredible Hulk with green paint smeared on one side of his face.

  “Huh. The redhead?”

  “I prefer the term ‘ginger,’” she says with an elusive shrug. “But yeah, we bumped into each other on campus the other day and, I don’t know… I thought he would call me by now, but he hasn’t.” She glances at her cell phone and frowns.

  We all turn to Ben, who looks like he’s just been asked name every single element on the periodic table.

  “Ahhh,” he squirms, wrinkling his nose and looking insanely cute. “We don’t really talk about that kind of stuff. It’s sort of a rule of mine after the whole…” his eyes touch me and jerk away quickly. “Well, it’s a rule not to get involved in my friend’s love lives. It gets way too messy.”

  Payton lets her head fall against the back of the couch. “God, Ben! I hope that you realize that you are being no fun at all. I thought if I wasn’t allowed to sleep with my male roommate, I could at least count on him for a hookup with a hot guy friend every now and then.”

  He laughs and it sounds so good. The phrase, “music to my ears” comes to mind, but then I think that I’m pathetic for even entertaining the thought. Pathetic or whipped, and I don’t really want to be either.

  “I don’t know if this helps, but if any of you guys are interested, we’re playing at The Hill a week from Friday.” He drops his arm and sits up. “It’s after exams, so unless you’re heading home for winter break early, you should come out. I’m sure I can get you in the door for free. Ellie already said that she would come.”

  I meet his gaze. Ben told me about the show yesterday. He wants me to see him play and he wants to tell Payton and Ainsley about us. Us. He used that word specifically and I got stuck on it and this weird feeling started rolling around my stomach. It’s the same feeling that’s creeping back right now.

  Payton’s smile overtakes her face. “And, you have officially redeemed yourself, Ben. Getting to see Nick play will be worth the wait.” She closes her eyes. “Ahhhh! Drummers are so insanely hot.”

  Ainsley laughs. Her first coat is done so it’s my turn. Obediently, I spread my fingers for Mark.

  “Speaking of love lives,” Ainsley starts. Her round, blue eyes find mine as she blows delicately on her nails. “Ellie, now that you don’t have the LSAT as an excuse, we need to vamp up your completely non-existent one.”

  I groan. This conversation could not have taken a worse turn. “Seriously you guys, I do not need your input on this. Really.”

  Mark clucks and Payton sits up, brushing aside her bangs. “Oh, but I think you do,” she says hotly. “The last guy you dated was total deadweight and he lasted all of five minutes. He probably never even got a chance to figure out if you wear a thong or bikini briefs.”

  I die. I mean it. I die. My face ignites like it’s been splashed with molten lava.

  I know that Ben and Mark are watching me closely but Payton and Ainsley are distracted by the conversation that they’re still in the middle of.

  Ainsley asks, “Isn’t there someone in one of your classes that you have a thing for?”

  “Forget that,” Payton interjects, shooting an inscrutable look at Ainsley. “We should get you all decked out and hit a club on Thursday night. You can borrow something of mine. Preferably a skirt.”

  I’m supposed to go see a movie with Ben on Thursday night.

  Giving Mark my other hand, I deliberately keep my eyes down. “You’re at least two inches shorter than me, Payton. Anything that belongs to you would ride up my ass.”

  She waves her hands in the air. “The more skin the better as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Of course that’s what you think,” Mark interjects.

  Payton ignores him. She narrows her eyes at Ben. “You know… Ben, maybe you should set her up with one of your hot musician friends.” She pauses. “Just as long as it’s not Nick. He’s all mine.”

  My heart is thumping. I’m starting to feel sick.

  “Really, Payton?” I try to sound disgusted.

  Discreetly, I steal a glance at Ben. His eyebrows are practically touching his hairline.

  “Well, if you have someone special in mind,” she says gamely. “Please feel free to say something.”

  “It’s not that.” I shake my head. “There’s no one special. I just don’t want to be set up with one of Ben’s scrungy, tattooed musician friends, okay?”

  Payton glances between me and Ben. “Huh.”

  “I bet Brandon knows someone…” Ainsley chimes in.

  “You mean, Brandon the Ken doll?” Payton asks dryly.

  Ainsley’s forehead puckers, and the corners of her mouth slump. “Hey! I like him a lot and you’ve only met him one time. Give the guy some slack! Just because he was wearing pants that you didn’t approve of doesn’t mean that you can bash him. He’s a really sweet person.”

  “Ainsley, there is no redemption after pleated pants.”

  Mark nods once. “Amen, sister!”

  And they’re off. But, I’m not listening. I’m watching the look on Ben’s face—the doubt that’s molding the corners of his mouth and bleeding into his eyes—and I’m wishing that it wasn’t me that put it there.

  When I open my eyes, my room is black. The neon blue display on my digital alarm clock says that it’s after two in the morning. For a few seconds, as the remnants of my dreams absorb and sleep slides away from me, I don’t understand why I’m awake. Then I feel the familiar weight of a leg against mine.

  Ben’s still wearing his clothes—even his shoes—and I wonder how he could have fallen asleep like that. He must have come into my room sometime in the past two hours because I waited up for him until midnight, finally letting myself drift off during a movie that I’ve seen five times already.

  I touch his hair because I always want to touch his hair, but somehow it seems less like a demand when he’s sleeping. I run my fingers back through the thick strands and let them fall over his face—over the angular cheekbones and the straight line of his mouth.

  I didn’t like the way we left things tonight. The whole scenario of Ainsley and Payton trying to set me up in front of Ben was awkward. And then, I went and categorically denied having anyone special in life. To make things worse, I acted like I thought all musicians are disgusting, smelly losers. Ben’s expression had been one of defeat and something else. Maybe
it was disappointment?

  I know that should have said something about us. It was a golden opportunity, and I’m sure that’s how Ben sees things. Ten words from me to Ainsley and Payton, and everything could be out in the open. No more sneaking into bedrooms at night. No more secret kisses in the hallway before anyone else in the house gets up.

  I don’t know why I didn’t just open my mouth and let the words fall out. They were there, dangling on the tip of my tongue.

  I probably shouldn’t have put it off, but I did, and now I feel inexplicably guilty. And I hate feeling guilty. Especially when I can’t even quite articulate why.

  Next to me, he stirs and rolls over, and when his arm comes over my stomach I scoot lower so that my head is cradled just under his chin in the curve of his throat. As I close my eyes and let my breathing fall back into a slow pattern, I try not to let my mind wander too far. I’ve done too much thinking already. But one thought is there in the forefront, impossible to ignore. It’s like a whisper in my ear.

  Let go.

  “How many more?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Are we talking ten more or ten thousand?”

  I tilt my head and laugh. “Probably somewhere in between.”

  We’re in an empty classroom in the music building. It’s Wednesday afternoon and I have an hour between exams. I texted Ben and he told me that he was practicing in here.

  Following the directions that he gave me, I walked in when he was right in the middle of a piece. His head was bent over the neck of the cello and his eyes were closed and he looked all lost and beautiful.

  I stood by the door and watched him play for about five minutes before my wonderment dissipated enough for me to scramble to my bag and retrieve my camera. I got about thirty good shots in before he even noticed me. Now he’s rolling his eyes and acting stiff and generally being a bad subject. I take the hint and slip the lens cap back onto my camera.

  “Fine,” I say, taking a step toward the front of the classroom. I slide one strap of my bag off my shoulder and shuffle the contents around until my camera is safely stowed away. “But, one of these days I want free access to take pictures of you while you’re playing.”

  His hands are stilled and he’s looking at me sideways. “Why?”

  I drop into a chair in front of him and shrug. “Because your face is interesting.”

  Ben laughs, openly amused. “Interesting? Wow. You really know how to make a guy feel special.”

  I wave my hand. “Don’t be a jackass. You know that you’re hot. You’re a perfect specimen of masculinity by my standards and by those of every single girl that you meet. I just mean that when you play an instrument you go somewhere else. You get all these new faces.” I look up and he’s watching me closely. His mouth is curling into a crooked smile. “And, I want to capture them all with my camera.”

  After a few silent beats, Ben purses his lips thoughtfully. “So, you think I’m hot?”

  I bring one of my legs up and tuck it underneath me. “Ugh! No. That was just a figure of speech. I didn’t want to say anything, but if we’re being honest, you’re hideous. I can barely stand to look at your chiseled jaw, and your eyes surrounded by those horribly long lashes, and that awful dimple. It’s such a blight to your face. And good God, don’t even get me started on your muscular abs. Gross.”

  He ducks his head so that his hair falls forward and blocks his face, but I hear him chuckle.

  “You’re not so great yourself,” he says with a wink.

  “Why thank you. I value your opinion.”

  He laughs some more. “You know, the guys have been talking about getting someone to take some professional photos while we play,” he says.

  “I’m not a professional.”

  “No, Ellie, but you’re really good.” He positions the bow to his cello. “Maybe you can take some pictures on Friday night.”

  “Friday?”

  His shoulders drop and his expression changes to one of disappointment. “The show at The Hill? I thought you said that you were coming.”

  My heart stutters. “Oh, right. I’m still coming. I haven’t forgotten.”

  “Good… because I really want you to be there, Ellie. You can meet the other guys in the band and get to know that part of my life. It’s important to me.” He sighs and slides the bow across the strings so that they make a low groaning sound. “But if we’re not on the same page, just tell me now. I don’t think I can…” His voice fades away. “Not after what happened with Lily and Drew. It’ll be too hard.”

  Everything about this conversation has changed in the past ten seconds and I’m not really sure how that happened. It feels like a thousand tiny bugs are scurrying around in my stomach.

  “We’re on the same page,” I say finally. “We’re on the same word.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  A Long Way Down

  “What are you wearing?” Payton asks. She slips a tight black sweater over her lace bra, adjusting first her right breast, then the left one. Clearly she’s expecting tonight to turn into something special.

  “Is this vampy look for Nick?”

  Payton shrugs. “Oh, will he be at the show tonight?”

  I giggle. “He is the drummer…”

  She feigns surprise, clasping her right hand over her chest. “Oh, that’s right! Silly me. I completely forgot.”

  I throw a pillow at her. She turns to the jewelry holder on top of her dresser and starts to slip a multitude of rings onto her fingers.

  I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling of her bedroom. Payton’s got a bunch of those glow-in-the-dark plastic stars splattered up there directly over the bed. They remind me of the planetarium, which of course gets me thinking about Ben. And pretty soon my mind is on a one-way track to Swoonsville.

  “Ellie? Hello? You in there?”

  Silver fingernails waggle in front of my eyes. I blink and refocus. Payton’s face has gone all squished-up with concern. It’s not a look that she wears often.

  “Uh, yeah,” I say as I sit up and shake the loose thoughts away. “I’m just spacing out.”

  “You’re sure everything’s okay?”

  “It’s just stress over my exams and my Columbia application,” I explain, intentionally keeping my head down.

  When I look up, I can see that Payton’s not buying what I’m selling. She’s got her arms bent, hands on her hips, and one eyebrow pitched sky-high. “You seem different lately.” It’s a statement, but she says it like a question.

  “I told you. I’m fine.”

  She squints at me. Her hazel eyes are like needles digging under my skin. I squirm and finger the threading on the bed comforter.

  “I don’t believe you. I think it’s a lot more and that you’re keeping secrets” she says.

  Secrets. My breath wobbles. Keeping secrets about my love life from my best friends is not something that I aspired to. It just happened due to the circumstances. And even though I told Ben that I was going to tell Payton and Ainsley soon, now feels too soon. I know that they’re going to feel like I betrayed them.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I think you do, but if you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay. I’m not desperate enough to push you.” Payton drops her arms and makes her way over to the closet. With her back to me, she leans against the door frame. Her feet are crossed at the ankles. “So, if you won’t tell me what’s really going on with you then you can at least tell me what you’re going to wear tonight.”

  I swallow and shrug lightly, trying to regain a bit of normalcy. “I’m not sure—probably just jeans or something casual.”

  “You mean something boring?”

  “Excuse me? Boring?”

  Looking at me over her shoulder, she nods her head once. “Yes Ellie. Jeans are fine, but when they become like a uniform, it turns into boring.

  Self-consciously, I look down at my jeans. “I prefer to think of my wardrobe choices a
s classic.”

  Payton rolls her eyes and turns back to the closet. “I have it on good authority that the majority of hot guys aren’t looking for classic when it comes to a woman’s wardrobe choices.”

  I don’t know whether to laugh or feel ticked off. “Well, maybe I’m not interested in the majority of hot guys.” Just one in particular, I think. And he seems to like my clothes just fine.

  Payton wags her head. “I’m sure you’re not.” She pushes the hangers aside one by one until she finds what she’s looking for. It’s a long-sleeved dress in the color of new spring leaves. The bust is made of a tight-woven knitted material that falls away to a loose and gauzy skirt with dark stitching around the hem. Payton cradles it in front of her body like a favorite teddy bear.

  “You want me to wear that dress tonight?”

  Payton makes a sound that’s somewhere between choking and sighing and thrusts the dress toward me. “Yes. I want you to wear this green dress to Ben’s show tonight because it’s always been too long on me so it will be perfect on you. And I want you to put on earrings and eye liner and lipstick. I want you to have a vodka and cranberry or two, and in general, I want you to stop overthinking every single thing, and just have some good old-fashioned fun.”

  Rather than irritate Payton further, I take the dress and lay it flat on the bed so that the skirt dangles over the side. The fabric is cool and smooth. It has a wide neckline and the sleeves flare out a little at the wrists. If not for the fact that I take offense to my wardrobe choices being labeled boring, or that I don’t particularly like being handed orders, I would sort of love the dress.

  My phone buzzes alerting me to a new email, and I’m glad for the distraction. Using my thumb, I scroll to my inbox.

  “What is it?” Payton asks. She’s sitting at a small stool in front of a suspended mirror putting deodorant under her arms.

  A long, silent minute ticks by.

  “My LSAT scores,” I say cooly, giving nothing away yet. I need a minute to let things soak in.