The Way We Fell

by Mj Fields

  I spot her standing and facing me, but she doesn’t see me as she steps back from hugging some random guy. I laugh, thinking, she has a type.

  He’s tall, broad-shouldered, with bulging arms, dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt. Sound familiar?

  Sandra is bouncing a bit as she drags me toward the dance floor. “Dance with me.”

  Usually, I would require a drink or two before dancing, but not now. “Lead the way.”

  On the dance floor, I position myself so that I can see her out of the corner of my eye. She’s still fawning over the Ben look-alike. I guess if you can’t get the real thing, you go for an imitation.

  I’m not gonna lie, I’m being a petty bitch. But no one in my life, thus far, deserves it like she does.

  When the song ends, I watch Marna kiss the boy, and it rubs me the wrong way, even though it shouldn’t. Funny thing is, imitation Ben reacts the same way real Ben did.

  I laugh and put my back to them when the song ends.

  “Wanna get a drink?” Sandra yells.

  I nod and follow her toward the bar.

  When then next song starts with a major guitar intro, I smile, remembering the way Ben played this very song. It’s another of his.

  When the man starts singing, I turn and look at the stage. Imitation Ben is strumming the guitar, singing into the mic, and sounding just like real Ben. Why? Because it is real Ben.

  I glance over at Marna, who is looking right at me, eyebrow raised and smirking.

  “You coming?” Sandra asks, tugging at my arm.

  I jerk my arm away and storm toward Marna, who raises her hand, beckoning me.

  Something inside me makes me look toward the stage, and when I do, Ben looks directly at me with a shocked expression.

  I don’t allow my world to fall apart or my heart to shatter … visibly. Instead, I summon the anger brewing inside me and savor its fury. I raise two arms in the air and flip him off.

  The guitar comes to a stop, and I turn toward the exit, pushing my way through the crowd, when I hear Ben yell, “Kendall, stop!”

  Apparently, today is my lucky day, because when I run toward the road, the cab that could have hit me doesn’t. Instead, he stops and rolls down the window.

  Before he can curse me out, I tell him, “I need a ride.”

  As I get in the cab, I hear Ben again and look out the window as I slide in.

  He is being followed by a perplexed Sandra.

  “Go, please.”

  The cab driver hits the gas, and I sit back in the seat, willing it to suck me in.

  “Where to?” the driver asks, and I give him my address.

  It takes all of five minutes to pack a bag, grab my keys, and get ready to run out the door. But when I open it, a confused Sandra and a shocked Ben are standing on the other side.

  “Kendall …” Ben shakes his head.

  I hold up my hand. “I don’t want to hear it.”

  Sandra steps forward. “You okay?”

  I nod once and give her enough room to slide in. Then I attempt to shut the door in his face.

  He shakes his head as he pushes against it with his fucking fingertips while I have to use both hands to try to push it shut.

  “Sweets, it’s been six weeks since you’ve laid eyes on me; are you really gonna shut the door in my face?”

  “On your face if you don’t get away,” I warn.

  He looks over my head at Sandra. “She really does love me. Just has a nasty yet oddly sexy temper and needs—”

  “Get! Out!” I scream. “Get out and leave me alone forever!”

  His eyes dart back to mine, and he looks at me like I’m insane.

  “Fuck that, Ben! I’m not crazy! Fuck you! Fuck her!” I bat away falling tears, and he slides inside and shuts the door. “Fuck you! Get fucking out of—”

  He wraps his arms around me, holding my head to his chest.

  “—my room!”

  He winces then laughs a deep, dark chuckle, followed by a whispered, “She’s a biter.”

  “I hate you.”

  He looks at me like he’s hurt? He doesn’t get to be hurt!

  “I hate you so much.”

  “I think you should leave.” Sandra steps up to my side.

  “I think you should mind your own business. This is between Kendall and me,” Ben snaps.

  “You’re in our room,” Sandra says as she tries to take my hand from his.

  Ben looks at me. “This is a gross misunderstanding.”

  “Gross is right,” I snap. “You … you’re gross.”

  To that, I get a smirk. “Now isn’t the time to point out the fact that you know damn well you’re bullshitting yourself right now. And if you would give me—”

  “Thank God I gave you nothing!”

  He takes his time to point out, “But you would have had I not—”

  “Leave, just leave.” Defeated, I let out an embarrassing sob.

  I pull away from him and walk to my bed, climbing onto it and pulling the covers up to my face to wipe away more tears.

  “She asked you to leave, Ben. I suggest you do.”

  He walks past Sandra and sits on the edge of my bed, turning to face me. “You done now?”

  “I’m half-past done.” I sniff. “Now—”

  He flops back on my bed and links his fingers behind his neck. “Got a call about six hours ago that the Murphey’s hit number one here in the US with one of my songs.”

  “I don’t care.” I sniff again.

  “They asked me to fly up to celebrate. I said I couldn’t. They told me it was in Albany.” He rolls to his side and props his elbow on the bed, resting his head on his hand.

  “So what?”

  “So …” he drawls out. “I rented a hotel suite and decided, hell yes, I would come, do a set, sing a song, and then spend the weekend with my girlfriend.”

  “Then what? You decided maybe I’d let skanky the leprechaun kiss on me instead?”

  “No, I decided not to drag you along to the gig, because I didn’t want you to have to deal with her.”

  “Or maybe you just got caught and made that up.”

  He pushes himself up. “You know better than that.”

  I wipe my hand under my nose and sniff.

  He looks at Sandra. “Tissues?”

  She nods then walks to our bathroom.

  Now sitting beside me, he puts his arm behind me and pulls me into a hug. “I wanted to surprise you, Kendall.”

  “Well, you did.”

  “If I’d known you were going to come—”

  “I’m not stupid,” I cut him off as I look up at him.

  He scowls. “And I’m not him.”

  “You kissed her.” My voice cracks.

  “She kissed me; I swerved.”

  Sandra walks out of the bathroom with a box of tissues. “The girl who was yelling after you when you left the bar?”

  Ben nods.

  “She gave me the tickets outside the dorms.”

  Ben takes the box of tissues and pulls one out. “Thank you, Sandra.” He wipes under my nose as he tells me, “She’ll be dealt with.”

  “I don’t want you anywhere near her.”

  “I promise you I won’t be … unless you’re there, too.”

  “And you’re not ever working with them again.”

  After the words and attitude accompanying them leave my mouth, I feel like complete and total shit. I never wanted to be that girl.

  “Okay.”

  “No, it’s not okay, Ben.” I sit up. “None of this is okay.”

  “Not gonna disagree with you, but if it’s not obvious enough, I’m pretty determined to make this work, no matter what.”

  I shake my head, and he nods.

  “I won’t live like that or be like that.” I squint my eyes shut. “And you’re not gross, and—”

  Sandra’s laugh causes me to look up at her.

  “No, he’s not gross at all.”

  I turn ba
ck to Ben. “I’m sorry. I want to believe you, I do.”

  “Well, let’s get to the hotel, and I’ll show you why you should. But Kendall, after that, you’ve got to stop thinking I’m gonna fuck this up. I’m not. When I told you I love you, I meant it in the forever kind of way.”

  33

  Faithfully

  Ben

  Walking into the hotel room, I watch her look around. Her eyes stop on our date jar that I salvaged and have added to almost daily, the vase of thorn-less roses, a card, and champagne.

  Overcome with emotion, she turns and looks at me. “I’m so sorry. I am so”—she pushes up on her tiptoes and takes my face between her hands before kissing me—“so”—kiss—“so”—kiss—“sorry.” Kiss. Then she runs her hands up and fists my hair, pulling me in to deepen the kiss.

  It’s the kind of kiss that could make you forget that weeks have passed. Weeks that have been emotionally draining. Weeks when you have almost wanted to say fuck this dream, fuck it all. Weeks that you’ve gotten through based on this one person you know damn well loves you almost as much as you love her, and only almost because you know, it’s not humanly possible to love someone as much as you love that one person. Weeks, fucking weeks, of daydreaming about growing old with someone. Weeks you’ve actually planned so many details of a future with that once-thought fictional one. The one you believed up until you found her, in my case, in plain sight, was a goddammed myth. Weeks now tarnished by a major misunderstanding.

  “Kendall.” I pull away. “We need to talk about what just happened.”

  Talk about what just happened? What the fuck is wrong with me?

  You’re in love, you idiot.

  “Please no,” she says, pulling me closer and rubbing her body against mine.

  “Fuck,” I groan as she pushes a hand between us and strokes my now fully erect cock over my pants.

  I close my eyes, willing myself to step back, but she takes my hand and runs it up her thigh and under her dress, guiding it to the soaked cotton between her legs.

  “Sweets,” I growl. “This isn’t happening.”

  The words and intention are there, but I cup her and slide my finger up and down her panties, and she rocks against my hand.

  “Kendall,” I groan as her grip tightens. “Don’t you ever doubt me again.”

  “I love you,” she says, now pushing my hand underneath the saturated cloth. “I. Love. You.”

  I run my finger up and down her hot, wet lips, praying I have the will not to push them inside of her.

  When she starts to fumble with my zipper, I freeze up like a virgin on prom night, and she looks up at me.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Fuck no, you aren’t. Just … we have two years.”

  She nods then pushes her hand inside my zipper and grips my cock like she owns the fucking thing.

  She does.

  “A year and seven months until graduation.”

  “Kendall …” I groan as my hips thrust of their own accord.

  “I’m sorry.” She strokes me, and my dick scrapes the zipper. I ignore it.

  “Sweets, we’re good. Forgiven, forgive me, but don’t start something that feels this good because you feel bad.”

  She stops stroking my cock and rests her head on my chest.

  I sigh. “I just cockblocked myself.”

  She pulls her hand out of my pants and steps back so my fingers are no longer sliding in silk.

  “I was rotten. You are so far from gross, Ben Sawyer. You’re more”—she glances down and shuts her eyes—“so much more than any girl could have ever wished for.”

  “You’re talking about my cock?”

  “No.” She blushes furiously. “I didn’t even look.”

  “You peeked.”

  “I swear I didn’t—”

  “Sweets, I’m joking. Well, about the dick anyway, but not about moving too fast because you feel guilty. Because, if you’re going to go there, I’m going to become the biggest button pusher you’ve ever met.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because you’re fucking fire when you’re furious and smolder when you’re sorry.”

  “Am not.” She fights a smile.

  I turn us so she’s facing the mirror. “Look at you, Kendall Ross.”

  She attempts to fix her dress that I’m now seeing for the first time is simply tied at the waist. I pull at the string, and it falls open easily.

  “Fuck.” I close my eyes. “I don’t want to be that guy, but you really shouldn’t wear anything like this without me around.”

  When I open my eyes, she’s looking up at me blankly.

  “Sorry, sweets, but—”

  “I wore this to show her exactly what kind of woman I am.”

  Confused, I shake my head. “What?”

  “I knew the Murphey Brothers were playing. I knew she’d be there. She said a man like you wouldn’t ever be happy with a girl like me. It was stupid, but—”

  “So, your little fuck-me wrap was actually a fuck-you wrap?”

  She rolls her eyes. “So stupid.”

  “Not stupid. These are things we’ll learn about ourselves individually and figure out as a couple.”

  She looks back at us in the mirror. I half expect her to cover herself, but then she takes my hand and places it on her belly and looks back up at us.

  “Kendall?”

  “We’re waiting, right?”

  “Even if it kills us.”

  ~~~

  On the plane, I sit back and try to fall asleep as I think about touching her and her touching me. It was hot as hell, but she wants it different, and I’m the blue-balled man who’s going to give her what she wanted from the beginning.

  She laughed when she pulled out our date from the jar. Build-A-Bear Workshop. She thought I was joking. I wasn’t. Now she had our little dog, named Rio Two, in a box and was under strict instructions not to take him out until I called.

  We decided no more two calls a week. If we could talk every day, we would. There would also be no more trying to shield each other from the things that might hurt the other because, as I found out, Kendall was more hurt by what she said to me, even though it was oddly hot seeing and hearing her say fuck every other word, than she was that I didn’t tell her I was coming in.

  Walking out the automatic doors of the airport, I pull my phone from my pocket. I’m not even sure it rings one full time when she answers with, “Ben.”

  “I’m here.”

  “I’m glad you landed safely.”

  “You wanna grab Rio Two?” I ask as I raise my arm to hail a cab.

  “He’s right here.”

  “Good. Now pull him out and give him a hug.” I open the door to the cab and slide in, covering the phone to tell the driver the address.

  “He’s so fluffy.” She laughs.

  I sit back, unable to stop my smile from growing at just hearing the excitement in her voice. “Give his paw a squeeze.”

  I hear my voice say, “I love you, Kendall. Firsthand.”

  “Oh my God, Ben.” She sighs audibly. “Could you get any better?”

  “Sweets, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

  34

  Love You Down

  Kendall

  Holding my sleeping niece, Harper, a little tighter than I remember holding any of the boys, I rock back and forth, staring at her angelic face.

  “I want you to know that I love you, sweet girl.” I rub my nose across the top of her head and inhale the sweet scent of all things baby. “I want you to know that, no matter what life experiences you have, no matter how many hearts you see get broken, you need to always remember that yours is still whole. No matter how many times it gets hurt, there is someone somewhere out there who will cherish it. It may not be the kind you read in fairy tales or see in movies, but what makes it even more special than that, is it will be yours. He will be a lucky man, Harper Ann, and you will be a lucky woman.” I lift her up and hold he
r head to my shoulder. “And, God willing, he’ll sing to you.” I laugh to myself. “But if he does, you’ll be done for. Epic swoonage, my sweet girl.”

  “Epic swoonage?”

  I look up to see Dad at the doorway to the new addition that Collin had added to Deer Camp. It’s officially the room where doe and fawns can escape the testosterone.

  “Sounds like a disease or a mental health diagnosis.”

  I laugh softly as he sits on the couch beside me. “Both, I suppose.”

  “So, I talked to Frank last night.”

  I nod and avoid eye contact. Frank didn’t want anyone to know what he was going through, so I have literally avoided my parents as much as possible so I wouldn’t have to lie to them if they asked me anything about him.

  “He says he’s sick and won’t make it for this weekend’s Deer Camp festivities.” Dad puts his feet on the small coffee table and leans back. “He was a bit slower, a bit off at that race of theirs. Quiet, too. That’s not Frank.”

  Thinking quickly and not looking him in the eye, I try to answer his question. “It’s flu season. Maybe he’s”—I shrug—“got a touch of the flu?”

  “For two months, Kendall?”

  “They’re in the back,” I hear Mom say and realize she’s just outside the room.

  “Thank you, Maggie,” I hear Ben’s voice and look up.

  “Ben’s here, a day early, too.” I smile as brightly as I can, hoping it will sidetrack Dad.

  “Anything I can do to help?” he asks Mom, and I send up a silent prayer that she says no so he can get in here and deal with Dad’s interrogation.

  “Hey, sweets.” Ben smiles at me.

  “Hey, cupcake,” Dad smirks.

  Ben laughs and holds out his hand. “How the hell did you get in here with boots on? I had to fill out my health history and get scrubbed down by the CDC before I entered.”

  “Collin?” Dad shakes his hand.

  “Big angry man, arms always crossed over his chest, looking you up and down like you’re gonna fuck up his life?”

  Dad laughs as he pulls his feet off the table and sits up. “That sounds like him.”