Astor Hill

Chapter 31

31

Ben

I have this vivid memory of that summer. I can still feel the sun burning across the bridge of my nose in the late afternoon; feel the salty sting of ocean water spray in my eyes as we searched for Will in the dark; feel the weight that slightly lifted off my shoulders when he finally showed up the next morning, darkness marring the space under his eyes.

It should have been a harbinger for what was to come. I should’ve taken it as a sign but instead I assumed what I always did: that a crisis had been averted, that I’d be able to stop worrying for a few months— a year, if I’m lucky. I knew he was messed up over his break up with Lily, but to be fair he’d never loved a girl like that. He didn’t have to say it; it was obvious to anyone with sight that he was beyond gone for that girl. It was also obvious that she had one foot out the door from the second they met. I think I’d seen her with Will during normal waking hours once , and I’m pretty sure he had to beg her to meet the family. Maybe she had loved him back. It’s not like I talked to either of them much. I was busy basking in the freedom that was not having to worry about Will for a few weeks.

When Lily walked into his life that summer, it was like a breeze blew away all the heavy debris that’d been collecting on the bridge that connected Will and I, and rather than walk back across it I went straight the other way. I don’t know if that was right or wrong, in hindsight, but I do know it was self preservation. Everything I’d done was self preservation, I guess. Other than this.

Texting and calling Olivia has proved fruitless over the past week and she hasn’t come to class, so I’m shocked to see her nervously biting her lip in the meeting room doorway. She looks ready to bolt, but there’s something tragic and steely in her eyes as she decides to make her way to the seat next to me.

“Cabot,” she says after clearing her throat, her mouth pulling into a tight smile that does nothing to distract from the tortured look in her eyes.

“How… are you?” I ask the question feeling so out of place. “I called, Liv. I’ve been worried out of my mind.” I’m desperate for her to look at me, speak to me, give me more than a tight lipped greeting before the lecture begins.

“Yeah,” is all she gives me, flipping her notebook open and reaching into her bag for a pen. My hand reaches for hers without my permission, acting on my impulses with no regard for logic or caution. I think she’s going to pull away but she doesn’t. Her eyes slowly wander to mine, the steeliness in them melting away. I stand, holding onto the eye contact I was yearning for, pulling her up with me, leading her to that same corridor I found her in with Will just a few months ago. To my surprise she again, doesn’t resist me, only takes a visible swallow as she swipes an invisible hair out of her face.

Her arms are crossed in front of her chest now, accentuating its steady rise. Her brows are drawn together in consternation when a swift breeze blows her hair off her shoulders, leaving bare her shoulder, her collarbone, her neck. My gaze travels from there up the side of her face, cataloging every minuscule detail. The way her jaw subtly flexes in irritation, the delicate slope of her nose, the barely there freckle at the corner of her right eye. I notice the faint scar just below her hairline, the perfect arch of her brow, the otherworldly length of her eyelashes. I dare to commit to memory all of this, and so many other things, because I’m choosing to live for myself for the first time in a long, long time. And while I hate that it took this beyond fucked up circumstance to make me choose this, I don’t hate that it’s for Olivia. What I do hate is how long it took me to admit that I want her— that I love her, that I’ve been in love with her. What I do hate is that I knowingly kept this girl that I love in the dark for so long, that I let my allegiance to my brother stop me from making better choices by her.

She pulls in a shaking breath, staring past me.

“So Will and Lily,” is all she says, the faintest tremble in her voice, before she fixes her gaze on me.

“I…” I start to say, suddenly unable to translate my internal dialogue into anything coherent. “I’m so sorry, Olivia,” I start in earnest. I pause, giving her time to give me anything , but she’s silent. Which… I deserve. “I didn’t tell you about Will and Lily because at first, I assumed you knew. Actually, it was all I could think about when Will told me you were together… I didn’t understand how you were okay with it.” She glances away, and I realize she’s wounded or embarrassed? I’m not sure. “When we talked that night at the bar, I realized you didn’t know. And then I thought it wasn’t my place to tell you, after all these years, and maybe it wasn’t then. But eventually it was my place, Olivia. I should have told you.”

Calm has taken over her face as she asks, “And why didn’t you, Ben?”

“I—” She cuts me off, still eerily calm.

“I was the last one to know, Ben. No one. Fucking. Told me. Do you understand how awful that feels? I can just imagine Will and Gen laughing at me, this stupid girl who has no idea she’s been fucking her dead best friend’s boyfriend for years .” I flinch at the thought of Will and Olivia together as she huffs a sad, exasperated laugh. “But you… we were supposed to be different,” she says, shaking her head. “There were a million times you could’ve told me. Why didn’t you tell me, Ben?” she asks again, desperation coating her question, like my answer is the key to something. All I know is that my answer is shit.

“I was afraid, Liv,” I admit, taking a step toward her. She immediately shakes her head, stepping back from me.

“It’s not good enough,” she all but whispers. “You’re supposed to be good Ben, you’re supposed to be better than that. How could you look at me, be with me, and decide for me that I didn’t deserve to know the truth?” A tear escapes the edge of her almond shaped eyes, landing on an eyelash before her cheek. I wipe it away with the pad of my thumb and cup the side of her face, desperate to shield her from this, from me . Because I know why I didn’t tell her.

“Listen to me, Olivia. You deserve everything . You deserve the moon, if that’s what you want. You deserved to know, and I didn’t tell you because I wanted, so badly , to love you in this alternate reality where I wasn’t living my life thinking of Will. I wanted?—”

“Love me?” she interrupts, in disbelief, and I realize that I did say that. Out loud.

“Yes, Liv,” I tell her, pushing her hair back as my hand moves to cup the back of her head. “I’ve probably loved you since I saw you at that party.”

“Why doesn’t this feel like love, Ben?” Her weary eyes water, and I wish I could go back in time and do it all over.

“I would give anything to go back and do it differently. But I can’t. But now that you know?—”

“I’m not a good person, Ben.” She’s shaking her head as two more tears trail her cheek. “Who would do what I have done?” I wipe the tears away, my heart sinking as I start to understand what this is doing to her.

“Olivia, you didn’t know. That doesn’t make you a bad person— it makes you human.”

“I knew you were Will’s brother,” she says, somberly.

“And I knew you were his girlfriend.”

We let that— that which we’ve managed to mostly ignore— sit in the silence.

“He doesn’t care, Liv,” I finally say, tilting her head up to look at me. “I love you, Olivia Beckett. I don’t care how messy it looks, seems— is . Because I love you. Isn’t that all that matters?”

That tortured look returns to her eyes just before she turns her head skyward, eyes closed. When she comes back to me, I already know. I already know I’ve lost her, and my mind is scrambling with what to do because I can’t lose her.

“Olivia, don’t– ”

“Ben, I can’t love you when I don’t even like myself,” she cuts me off, smiling sadly. “I’ve spent the past… forever, it feels like living in someone’s shadow. First Lily, then Will.”

“It wouldn’t be like that, Liv– it won’t be like that,” I try to convince her, my hand traveling to her waist and pulling her toward me.

“I can’t be with you like this,” she whispers, painfully. My head drops to hers, like being close to her would somehow change her assessment of our situation. “I need to figure my shit out,” she adds, stepping away from me. I stay grounded where I am, willing myself not to follow her, but reach for her hands.

“We can figure it out together, Liv,” I offer, softly.

“I need space from all of this. I need space from you .” She’s adamant and sad and sure and disappointed and defeated, and I know she means it. That she needs it.

“Okay, Liv,” I say, because if this is what she needs I want her to have it. I want her to be happy. But I also want her , however long it takes. “But I’ll–”

“I don’t…” she starts to say, glancing away, shaking her head. “Don’t wait around for me, Ben. Please.”

All I can do is huff out a laugh as disbelief clouds my judgment.

“I am in love with you Olivia,” I say for what feels like the thousandth time, each time falling on apparently deaf ears. “And you want me to do what? Just stop? It might have been better if I could but I can’t. I don’t want to anymore. You can have your space. You can take as long as you need. But until you can look me in the eye and tell me you don’t feel this… force between us? I’ll keep waiting.”

I watch her jaw shift as she tries to stifle a tear; watch her head tilt up to stop the tear from falling; watch her throat bob as she swallows the emotion she’s holding in rather than sharing it with me; watch her sigh in resignation that I hope means I’ve got her, until she turns and just… walks away.