20. Cheesy Eggs
20
Cheesy Eggs
An incessant pounding in my brain woke me, and I curled myself into a ball and covered my head with my blanket to block out the glaring sunlight. My stomach roiled angrily, and my mouth tasted like ass, worsening my nausea. A piercing pain pulsed behind my right eye, and I groaned in agony.
What the fuck happened last night, and why did I feel like death?
Squeezing my eyes shut against the torture of my hangover, I tried to shift through my memories of the night before but was met with hazy pieces. They slipped through my fingers like smoke the moment I tried to grasp them. I remembered with perfect clarity the picture of Alice in Ben’s arms as they kissed, but after that, things got… weird.
I peeked out from under my blankets, and the sun punched me in the face. Why were my blinds open? I always kept them shut when I slept. Granted, I had no idea how I even got into my bed last night. It was more than possible I forgot to close them before I passed out.
The pounding in my head started up again as I stumbled out of my bed and staggered to the window. I ripped the curtains closed violently moments before I tripped over a pair of jeans, and my jelly-like legs gave out beneath me. I fell to the floor with a crash, bruising my hip. I lay on the ground for ages until the loud banging in my brain became unbearable. Or wait, was it my head or the door?
The world spun as I rose to a sitting position—shit, was I still drunk? I swore, the floor moved under my ass, rolling like angry waves. To ensure I didn’t drown in the carpet ocean beneath me, I crawled across my floor on my hands and knees. When I arrived at my bedroom door alive, I opened it and listened intently. Sure enough, someone’s fist was beating against my front door.
Attempting to stand proved difficult, but I eventually made it to my feet. My vision blurred and the floor tilted, causing me to lean heavily against the wall. I hobbled down the hallway, scooting down the stairs on my ass like a toddler for fear of tripping down and breaking my neck in my delirious state. But after surviving the descent down the stairs, I made it to the front door.
I jerked it open and squinted against the burning sun. A figure stood before me outlined by sunlight. It took me a moment to focus my gaze enough to recognize golden hair curling at the ends and twinkling blue eyes over a lopsided grin.
“Ugh,” I groaned and rested my temple against the door, “it’s you.”
“Good morning.” Ben’s cheeriness was offensive, and I told him so. He just laughed. “You want to let me in, or would you prefer to keep flashing your dear old neighbor your underwear?”
I blinked lazily as I processed his words before glancing down and realizing, for the first time, I was indeed wearing nothing but my boxers. I grunted like a caveman, glancing over Ben’s shoulder at Mrs. Kalkowski sitting on her front porch swing watching us. She raised an old, wrinkled hand and waved, and I returned the greeting with a wave of my own.
Shuffling to the side, I waved him into the house, and he brushed past me.
“Kitchen?” he asked, and I pointed.
I followed him into my kitchen, rubbing my eyes to alleviate the pain. He rooted through the cupboards and drawers, pulling out a skillet and spatula before heading to the fridge.
“What are you doing?” I asked, voice thick with sleep.
“Do you drink coffee?” he asked, ignoring my question.
“Huh?”
Ben straightened and leaned on the fridge door. “Do you drink coffee?”
“Sometimes,” I said.
“Today’s probably a coffee day,” he declared confidently before diving back in my fridge and rummaging around.
I watched in bewilderment as he moved around my kitchen like he owned the place. He set eggs and milk next to the stove, then moved to the coffeemaker. He searched through a few more cupboards until he found the tin full of ground coffee and added two scoops to the brewer. He dumped the small amount of coffee remaining in the pot down the drain before rinsing and filling it with enough water to make several cups.
“Wait, where’s my dad?” I asked as my lucid thoughts fought my somewhat drunken ones.
“I think he went grocery shopping. I waited until he left to come to the door because I didn’t want you to get busted.” Returning to the counter, Ben explored the other side of the kitchen until he found a medium-sized bowl that he used to mix the eggs and milk together. As he fired up the stove, he motioned to one of the stools at the breakfast bar. “You wanna sit? You don’t look too good.”
“What—” My voice broke, and I cleared my throat noisily before trying again. “What are you doing?”
As the skillet heated, Ben shredded the cheddar cheese. “Well, you’re technically supposed to be at Kim’s remember? Your truck is there, and I figured you’d need a ride to go pick it up.”
“Okay, but what are you doing?” I said again, and he chuckled.
“I also figured you’d be hungover, so I’m going to make you my favorite hangover food.”
The skillet sizzled as he poured the egg-milk mixture into it, stirring it with the spatula.
“I thought you didn’t drink?”
He pinned me with a pointed stare. “I thought you didn’t, either.”
A blush heated my neck and cheeks as my broken memories flitted through my mind. Oh God, I barely remembered what I did last night, but he did. I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. Given his cheery mood, I guessed it was bad, definitely bad.
“I don’t drink anymore, but I used to,” he admitted as he continued to scramble the eggs.
“Why’d you stop?”
His fist clenched on the spatula for a moment before he answered. “I promised Aunt June I would.”
Simple and to the point, yet nowhere near enough of an explanation.
With a grunt, I plopped my forehead onto the counter and moaned in distress as my brain punished me for all the tequila.
By the time the coffee pot beeped, Ben was placing a plate of scrambled eggs smothered in melted cheese before me. My stomach simultaneously rumbled with hunger and nausea, and my fork hovered over the eggs without diving in.
“Trust me,” Ben said as he poured the coffee into two mugs. “It’s magic.”
Spearing myself a bite, I slipped it into my mouth and sighed as the greasy cheese and fluffy eggs converged on my tongue. “Oh my God, the cheese and the eggs are making babies in my mouth, and I’m not even mad about it.”
Ben burst into laughter, and I shushed him.
“How do you take your coffee?”
“Enough milk and sugar to trick my taste buds into believing it’s not coffee,” I said around another bite of cheesy eggs, and he obliged.
When I was halfway done with my eggs, I finally glanced up from my plate, finding Ben watching me intently. He jerked his gaze away, focusing on his coffee as he leaned against the counter. I eyed him suspiciously, but he didn’t look my way again.
“What happened last night?” I asked as I took a sip of coffee.
Ben stiffened. “You don’t remember?”
I scrunched up my face and tried to think back. There was the sexually frustrating body shot. Then Ben and Alice hooked up. I thought there was dancing, but… I shook my head.
“Not really.”
His expression fell in disappointment before he managed to cover it. “Oh.”
“Why?” I set down my mug. “Did I do something? Was it embarrassing?”
“No,” he said much too quickly.
“Oh my God, what did I do?” Ben feigned innocence, and I glared at him. “Ben, what did I do?”
Hiding his face in his mug, he mumbled, “You threw up on me.”
“What?” I screeched, making my head ache in retaliation. “Ow! Did you just say I threw up on you?”
“Just my shoes,” he admitted, and I wanted to die.
I buried my face in my hands and moaned pathetically. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine. I just cleaned them.”
I wallowed in my humiliation until Ben reminded me to keep eating.
“I don’t deserve these,” I lamented as I took another bite of eggs. “Wait, how did I get home last night?”
“I drove you,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Well, yeah, but why? We were all gonna crash at Kim’s.”
The tips of ears colored as he stirred his coffee. “You asked me to take you home, and you were kind of… upset. I thought you wanted to come here.”
Upset? Probably because I’d puked all over him.
“Right. Yeah, thanks. We should just get out of here before my dad gets back.” I shoveled the last of the cheesy eggs into my mouth before guzzling the coffee. “He’ll ground me forever if he finds out.”
“Okay.” Ben took my dishes and pointed in the direction of the stairs. “Get dressed. I’ll clean up.”
Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, I did as he said. My clothes from yesterday smelled like booze and puke, so I shoved them to the bottom of my hamper. Since I didn’t have time for a shower, I gave myself a quick wash with a wet cloth and sprayed extra deodorant under my arms. After I brushed my teeth, I felt somewhat human again and got dressed.
I pocketed my phone and the keys lying on my bedside table, then hurriedly straightened my bedding. As the blanket billowed, I caught a whiff of spring soap. Confused, I bent down and sniffed my pillow. It smelled like Ben. My sheets did too. Why did my bed smell like Ben?
The ghost of a memory filtered through my mind, Ben’s fingers in mine, his lips grazing my cheek. Except that wasn’t right. Because he’d been with Alice at the party.
Ugh, I was too hungover for this.
Back downstairs, Ben was waiting by the door, my jacket already in his hand.
“Did you stay the night?” I asked as I shoved my feet into my shoes.
“Uh, no. Why?”
“My pillow smells like you,” I said before my hungover brain could stop it. I froze in tying my shoes. “I mean, not that I spend time smelling you. I just mean—”
“Oh yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Um, no, that’s because I was, uh, there—well, you see, you asked me—and then we kind of—”
I stood abruptly, practically shouting, “What?”
Ben startled, taking a step back. “What?” he echoed, though it was far less unhinged than mine.
“We—wait.” I held up a hand, my brain struggling to brain . “You don’t mean—” I barked a manic laugh. “We didn’t, like… uh…”
It clicked, and Ben paled, then flushed. “No! God, no. We didn’t—I would never do that!”
And oh, I was not expecting his passionate denial to hurt that much. But of course, he’d never… because it wasn’t like that. Not for him. Obviously.
“Of course,” I blurted before he could say anything else to drive the knife deeper. “No, that’s not even what I meant because that would be so fucked up. Like”—I gestured between us—“obviously that would never happen. ’Cause that would be fucking weird.”
I bit my tongue to shut myself up, and for a moment, Ben almost looked hurt. But it was gone the moment I blinked, and I knew I’d imagined it.
“We need to go,” I said, grabbing my jacket out of his hand and shrugging it on. “Before my dad gets back.”
“Right.” Ben ran a hand through his hair and opened the front door. “Yeah, let’s go get your truck.”
He’d parked across the street, and I jogged after him, taking the passenger side as he opened the driver’s door and folded himself inside. His car smelled like him, like spring soap and spearmint. Like my pillow.
He opened the center console and retrieved a pack of gum. Spearmint, of course. He offered me a piece without meeting my eyes, and I took it, mumbling a thank-you.
As he pulled away from the curb, I slumped low in my chair and stared out the window. Awkwardness permeated the cab until I was willing to consider the possible benefits of throwing myself out of the moving car altogether. Before I could, the car rolled to a stop at a red light, and I jumped in my seat as Ben’s hand landed on my arm.
I turned toward him, startling at the emotion swirling through his eyes. We gazed at each other for a long moment, neither of us knowing what to say or how to say it. His fingers pressed into my arm through my jacket, and I carefully blanketed the back of his hand with mine. After his vehement denials, I half-expected him to snatch his hand back or shove me away. He did neither. I squeezed his hand, and when his eyes softened, the knots in my stomach loosened.
A car honk startled both of us, and I dropped his hand, facing the front where the light had turned green. Ben released a heavy breath through his nose as he rolled through the intersection, and the soft moment between us hardened once more.
“So,” I said a few minutes later, unable to stomach the silence for another second, “are you and Alice, like, a thing now?”
Jerking the wheel hard enough to make the tires squeal, Ben screeched into a gas station parking lot and slammed on the brakes, making me brace myself on the dash to ensure I didn’t smash my face on it.
“What the fuck?” I cried, rearing back as Ben rounded on me, his expression mutinous.
“No, Silas, Alice and I aren’t a thing. We never have been, and we never will be, okay?” He leaned on the center console, jabbing at the air between us. “You saw her kiss me last night, but you didn’t stick around to see me tell her no. And instead of coming to me and asking like a normal person, you got shitfaced and forgot everything that we—” He choked off, jaw ticking. “We’ve already had this conversation, okay?”
The momentary fear over his temper faded, replaced with my own. “Well, I’m so fucking sorry that I’m not as normal and mature as you are, Ben. I’m sorry my hangover and memory gaps are so inconvenient for you and that you have to waste your precious time reminding me of shit I can’t remember. I’m sorry that I got drunk last night and puked all over you; I obviously didn’t do it on purpose because that sounds like a literal nightmare. And I’m so fucking sorry that seeing you kiss Alice made me—” I cut myself off before I revealed too much, swallowing the words that fought to escape my mouth.
An intense expression painted Ben’s face as he said, “Made you what?”
Fuck, I’d dug myself into a hole this time. I searched for something to say, anything to say, and somehow I landed on, “She bullies me.”
Ben winced and I traced the leather of the center console to give myself something to look at that wasn’t him.
“They all do, okay? ’Cause I’m the fag that doesn’t take their shit, so they push and they pull because they can, and—” I swallowed hard. “I see you with them, and it hurts. Because I’m not like them. I’ll never be one of them.”
“Do you think I want you to be?” He asked like it was the most preposterous thing. “Silas, I think you’re amazing just the way you are. I don’t want you to be like them.”
Another fear crawled out between my lips. “What about when they inevitably make you choose?”
He laughed, but it wasn’t unkind. “You’re afraid I’ll choose them? Over you? They don’t know me. They don’t even see me. I might as well be invisible.” Slowly, hesitantly, he reached across the center console and curled his fingers around mine. “But you see me. With you, I don’t feel invisible. I don’t want to be invisible.”
And my God, his words cracked me right down the middle.
“I don’t think it’s possible for you to ever be invisible,” I whispered. “Not to me.”
A myriad of emotions played over his face, passing too quickly for me to comprehend them fully. But it didn’t matter. Because he was yanking me forward by his grip on my hand, enveloping me in a tight embrace. I might have yelped in surprise, but I hugged him back desperately. I wanted to drown in his spring soap and spearmint forever. And he held me just as tight, like maybe, just maybe, I was something worth holding on to.
When he finally pulled away, he didn’t go far. He pressed his forehead to mine, and my eyes shuttered closed. His exhale mixed with mine, and we both smelled like spearmint. It made me smile.
I didn’t think this was normal. Friends didn’t touch each other like this, didn’t say things like this. But as the anger and hurt washed away, I decided I didn’t care. This was how we were, and it was good. It was so good, and I never wanted it to end.
Opening my eyes, I found him watching me with an unfathomable expression, his eyes smoldering with a fire I couldn’t understand. The heat of his gaze seared my skin, and I was positive I would burst into flame any moment. I didn’t. I just sat there surrounded by his fire as I tried not to turn to ash.
It was a special kind of agony, but for him, I would gladly burn.