The light in my parents’ room was on, but their door was closed. We had to be extra careful as we crept toward the stairs not step on Randy, our Yellow Lab, who was sprawled out asleep in front of their door. If we woke him up, the barking would ensue and we’d be caught. It wasn’t like Ben wasn’t allowed to come over. My parents knew the depth of our relationship and that I spent several nights a week at his apartment when we were at school, but I wasn’t a big fan of them knowing he was in my childhood bedroom in the middle of the night.
On the second floor, from behind her closed door, I could hear Keely on the phone, no doubt talking to one of the many guys she was dating. I guess when you thought about it, it was good that Chase was exerting his big brother authority, since she was in a situation that could potentially end badly. Maybe she needed someone to have her back, although thinking about Chase being that guy was unsettling.
Chase’s door was open halfway, the light was on, and I could see part of him sitting at his window, smoking a cigarette, blowing smoke out into the night. I shot a glare at his back hoping it would hit him. What he’d said to me earlier was still bugging me.
Once behind the protection of my bedroom door, I let my guard down just a little, but still held Ben’s hand as we sat down on my bed. He tried to start kissing me, but I wasn’t in the mood, so I brushed him off. Since me getting upset and holding onto my emotions was a new thing, Ben didn’t even catch on – just like he hadn’t caught on earlier that I was annoyed with him. He just lay back on my bed, so I lay next to him, and he took my hand again.
I sighed once, as if to communicate to Ben that I was irritated. When he didn’t react, I looked over at him. He was gazing at the ceiling, so I tried again. This time I huffed, well aware I should be able to just be an adult and talk to him about what was bothering me, even if he was the catalyst and it would undoubtedly be an uncomfortable conversation. Of course, maturity eluded me that night.
Ben heard me. He didn’t turn his head but said casually, “What’s wrong, babe?”
I sighed again, really drumming up the drama. “You don’t think I’m too rigid, do you?” I asked, assuming that he would automatically refute my statement.
Instead, he said nothing. He just looked over at me, with an expression that told me he wanted to say something, but he was trying to figure out how to word it. He opened his mouth, a look of wariness on his face.
I interrupted him before he could speak. “Oh, great. You think I’m too rigid! That’s just fantastic.”
I looked away from him and stared hard at my alarm clock. The bright red numbers read 12:19. I watched them until they became too blurry to read. I felt Ben twist and put his arm over me, but I pulled away from him.
“Babe, come on. I don’t think you’re too rigid.”
I looked at him through my peripheral vision, but didn’t change my position.
“You’re structured,” he continued. “And that’s a good thing, because you keep everything so neat and organized. I can’t remember dates, but you can. I’m messy, you’re not. It works, you know.”
I softened my posture a little bit and looked over at him. “So you think Chase is wrong?”
“Chase? What do you mean?” he asked, looking confused. “I thought you were talking about something else.” The last part came out mumbled as if he hadn’t actually meant to say it out loud.
I moved back to put some distance between us. “I got pissed at Keely for smoking weed with Chase, and he told me I was rigid. What do you mean something else?” I asked derisively.
I wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know. Ben and I had argued more in the past few months than we had during the entire length of our relationship, and never once had he asked me what was wrong. I knew he was frustrated with me, but he’d never once actually validated that assumption. I could just tell, just like I could tell he didn’t want to tell me now what he’d been referring to. Ben looked startled, like he hadn’t thought I’d picked up on what he’d said.
“Oh, well, um, I just thought that you were talking about tonight at the movies,” he said, shrugging.
Now I was thoroughly confused. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, babe, just drop it. It’s no big deal,” he said, as he tried to pull me into his arms. “I don’t want to fight with you.”
“Oh no,” I said vehemently, pulling away from him. “I’m not dropping this.”
Ben sighed, and I could tell he really didn’t want to be having this conversation. He hesitated before saying, “Well, it’s just that lately you’ve been different – sort of angry or something. I don’t know.” My eyes narrowed at his comment, but secretly I was glad he was finally acknowledging the obvious, so I let him continue. “Like tonight, for example. Everyone else wanted to see that movie, but we had to practically beg you. It was like if you didn’t want to see it, none of us could. You were sort of bitchy about it.”
“That is not fair,” I said, shaking my head. He was well aware of my phobia of all things dead or dark. I did not think I was being unreasonable.
“You were being selfish, Em, and it’s not like you to be that way. It’s like lately you’ve gone from being disciplined to difficult.”
“I know,” I said softly, tears of anger and regret suddenly pricking the backs of my eyes
“You do?” Ben asked softly, and he sounded so dejected.
I suddenly knew what it had been like on his end for the past few months and instantly felt shitty for how I’d been treating him. He looked sad or distraught, like he wasn’t sure exactly what to do with me, but how I’d been acting toward him had clearly been upsetting him for a while.
“Ben, I’m sorry if I haven’t been that fun to be around. I’m just dealing with a lot right now, and I’m not really sure how to process it all,” I said softly, trying to calmly explain my position. I ran my fingers back through his hair. “I’m just not sure what to do.”
I watched him closely, trying to gauge his reaction, but it seemed nothing I was saying was hitting home. Instead of asking me what was wrong and what I was dealing with, he was refusing to accept it, and I think I knew in that moment what our problem was. If he’d ever shown any inclination that he could tell something was wrong, maybe I would have opened up to him, but I knew Ben, and I knew that he hated anything that would rock his perfect world. His girlfriend going through a life crisis of sorts wasn’t something he wanted to think about.
He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “You’ll figure it out,” he said, as if it were that simple.
I turned away again, infuriated with him again. “You really don’t get it,” I muttered, my chest constricting with the thought of how far apart we’d drifted.
“Babe, don’t be like that,” he said, sitting up next to me, reaching for my hand. He obviously still didn’t get it. “Come on. You’re just tired. You need to relax.” He kissed the spot behind my ear before moving kisses down my neck, so I knew exactly what he meant by relax.
“Don’t,” I said moving away from him and crossing my arms in front of my chest. “I do not need to relax. I’m not tired.”
Ben sighed. “Babe, listen. I get it. This is a big year for us. It’s our senior year. I know you’re worried about what will happen next, but you just have to trust that everything will work out. I’ve got a job lined up at my uncle’s accounting firm in Atlanta, and you can do your PR thing. We can get live in Buckhead. It’ll be great.”
I smiled at his enthusiasm, but it didn’t reach my eyes.
“But, if I have a great season, I could get drafted next year. I know it’s a long shot, but how cool would it be – me in the NFL and you as my hot wife who cheers me on at every game.” His arms encircled my waist, and he pulled me against him. “Everything will work out for us, you’ll see. I love you so much. You are sweet and kind and adorable, and I knew I wanted to marry you from the moment I set eyes on you.”
I couldn’t help a sma
ll, genuine smile peeking out at his words. He was being sweet, even if he still didn’t get what I was dealing with.
“Ben what I if I want to work?” I asked, looking over to gauge his reaction.
“Then you’ll work,” he said, tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear. “I just want you to be happy, and if having a career makes you happy, then you’ll do it.”
I nodded, but he still looked at me appraisingly.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, searching my face for some kind of clue as to what he could possibly be missing. Unfortunately, even I didn’t know the answer to that. “Aren’t you happy?”
No, I’m not.
In that moment, there were a million things that I wanted to say – that I should have said, but I didn’t. It would freak him out to know what I was truly thinking, and he was already starting to look at little uncomfortable.
“Of course, I’m happy,” I said, putting my hands on either side of his face and kissing him deeply.
“Good, because I can’t have my future wife mad at me,” he said, around my lips. I felt him smile before he deepened the kiss.
Within a few minutes, we were half-dressed, and Ben succeeded in distracting me enough that I’d stopped obsessing about the unknown. He started to move his kisses down my stomach and back up.
“Please,” he murmured in my ear, as he moved his hand to my hip and trailed his finger across the lace at the top of my underwear.
I instinctively put my hand on top of his to stop him. He looked up in disappointment. I knew that look well. “No,” I said, softly. “Not here.”
“Come on,” he begged, and I could tell he was getting frustrated. “No one will hear us. I promise I’ll be quiet.”
We’d only had sex a few times since we’d been home, mostly because we were both living at our parents’ houses, and it felt dirty to have sex with them down the hall. We’d had to wait for limited opportunities when our parents were at work and our siblings weren’t home which wasn’t often.
I shook my head. “No way.”
“Em, you’re leaving in a few days. Come on.”
I kissed him deeply, making him groan slightly. I could feel against my leg how much he didn’t want me to turn him down, and it wasn’t easy to push him away.
“We’ll have the house to ourselves once my parents are gone,” I promised, knowing there would be at least one night Keely and Chase would be out. “It’ll be just a few more days.”
“I forgot about that,” he said, smiling as his lips found the curve of my neck.
I leaned back to enjoy his lips as they explored my skin, feeling just a bit like I had when we’d been in high school and had spent hours making out in my room. If only I could get back the feeling of how enamored I’d been with Ben back then, I knew we’d be okay. Maybe time apart was just what we needed. Maybe then I’d miss him enough to know we should be together.
Chapter Six
After spending the whole next day helping my mom clean the house, I felt like I needed to get out for a while. It was a nice night, so I decided to take Randy up to my favorite coffeehouse which was in walking distance from our house. I found him sprawled out in front of the unlit fireplace in the living room, half asleep.
My parents were watching a show on the Travel Channel about African safaris. They looked up from the TV when I entered the room, Randy’s leash in my hand. I clicked the clasp on the leash several times to get his attention. After the first click, his head snapped up, and he registered what that clicking sound meant before bounding over to me, more than eager to go out.
“Where are you headed?” my mom asked.
Clipping the leash on Randy’s collar, I said, “Just up to the coffeehouse. I’m craving a latte. I won’t be gone long.”
“Alright, have fun,” she said. “Is Keely going with you?”
Ah, so my mom hadn’t picked up on the fact that Keely and I were on the outs.
“No, she’s staying here,” I said, as I started to walk toward the door. No need to let my parents know about our fight. It wasn’t like I could share the details of it anyway.
I started to fish my iPod out of my pocket, sticking my ear buds in my ears before heading out.
“Emily,” came my dad’s voice, as I almost had my hand on the doorknob.
“Yeah,” I yelled back in the general direction of the living room.
“Can you pick up a pound of French Roast? We’re out.”
I sighed. “Sure Dad. No problem,” I said, before I pushed play on my iPod and drowned out the world around me.
I reached the coffee shop quickly, as I immersed myself in my favorite Paramore album from a few years ago and walked at a faster clip than usual. Outside I tethered Randy to the light pole while I went in to get my latte. Coming back out, I saw someone leaning down next to him, talking to him and stroking his head.
“Hi,” I said to the back of the guy’s head, trying to grab his attention. I wondered why people always felt it was okay to pet other people’s animals without permission. It was sort of rude.
The guy looked up in surprise, and I started the minute his eyes met mine.
“Hey. Sorry. Is this your dog?” he asked, standing up straight.
I nodded, and swallowed hard, trying to regain my composure. He was around my age with dark brown hair and light brown eyes that that seemed to burn a hole right through me. He was cute, really cute, and I instantly felt guilty for thinking so. He also looked vaguely familiar, although I couldn’t place how I might have known him.
“He’s beautiful,” the guy said, running his hand back through his hair, and I instantly felt bad about thinking he was rude.
“Thanks,” I said, not really sure how else to respond. I was a little tongue-tied.
“What’s his name?” the guy asked, and I realized he had a bit of a southern drawl that was just this side of sexy.
“Randy,” I said, as I sat down with my latte at the table closest to Randy’s light pole, pulled my iPod out of my pocket and laid it on the table.
Randy looked up at me for a moment to see if I had a treat. When he saw that my hands were empty, save for the small purple electronic device, he went back to half-sleeping on the ground. The guy petted him once more, causing Randy’s tail to move lazily back and forth.
“What are you listening to?” he asked, eying at me as he stood up and leaned back against the light pole. He nodded toward my iPod.
I looked down at it instinctively, following his gaze, and then back up at him. I again got the distinct feeling that I’d met him before but still couldn’t place where. Maybe he just had one of those familiar faces, although he was far from ordinary looking. He was striking in a way that was hard to describe. He wasn’t classically good looking like Ben. He was more exotic or dangerous or something.
He had a lean build and was shorter than Ben, and his dark hair fell across his forehead, almost into his eyes, in that messy, sexy way. He had on distressed jeans, a fitted black t-shirt that let me know he worked out and Converse sneakers. I could see the edges of a large tattoo sticking out from one of his shirt sleeves, and when he turned his head to the left slightly, I could see a brown cigarette tucked behind his left ear. What got me, though, were his eyes. They were so light that they were almost translucent in the light from the pole above him. I couldn’t stop staring at them and almost had a hard time answering his question.
“Um, Paramore,” I said tentatively, self-consciousness taking over.
He nodded once. “Good band. There’s nothing sexier than a girl screaming over a guitar.”
I raised my eyebrow at him, not sure if he was joking or not.
“What? I’m not kidding. I love it.” He shot me a crooked smile that made his already cute face turn downright gorgeous and sexy. He was definitely hot.
I slowly traced the edge of my iPod, wishing I could think of something insightful to say.
“What song?” he asked, gesturing again to my iPod, and I was grateful t
hat he was keeping the conversation going since I was at a loss for words.
“Brick By Boring Brick. It’s my favorite,” I said, not sure what he would say to that.
He shook his head. “Haven’t heard it.”
“You should check it out. It’s good,” I said, relaxing slightly as the conversation became more comfortable. I could always talk about music.
“I will,” he said, shooting me a half-grin that made my stomach swirl. “You a big music fan?”
I nodded. “Yeah, just a little,” I said, dropping a hint of sarcasm into my tone, as I smiled sheepishly.
“Who else are you into?”
My mind suddenly went blank as I tried to remember what I’d recently downloaded. “Um, I’ve actually been digging back into some stuff from a few years ago, so, um I guess I’ve been listening to a lot of Rise Against, Silversun Pickups and AFI.”
“So you’re angry,” he said, and my mouth wanted to fall open.
This guy who didn’t even know me seemed to have a better read on me that those who knew me best. I wasn’t sure how to respond, but before I could, he shot me a winning smile.
“I’m just messing with you,” he said, his accent and smile instantly relaxing me.
“How about you?” I asked, feeling suddenly brazen. “Favorite bands, favorite song.”
“Which decade?” he asked, and I could tell he took this subject seriously by the sudden intensity that appeared in his eyes.
“Current music,” I said, definitively. “I’m guessing this is one of your favorite topics?”
I wasn’t sure where my sudden surge of confidence was coming from, but I realized I was enjoying our little exchange. I never even thought about the fact that I was having a full-on conversation with a guy whose name I didn’t even know. I didn’t even think to ask him.
“That is an understatement,” he said, and I could hear the conviction in his voice. “Lately I guess I’ve been listening to a lot of Florence + the Machine and Coldplay. Favorite song at the moment – Paradise, by Coldplay. Probably overplayed, I know, but I love it.” He shook his head as if he was disappointed in himself.
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