Chapter 11
Benson
I turn away from her door and walk.
Main Street is empty. The Vietnamese place is dark. My hands are in my hoodie pocket. I’m walking slower than I need to be.
I just kissed my sister’s roommate.
I run my tongue over my bottom lip without thinking and taste whatever she had on. It was something, and it tastes good. The kiss is in my head on a loop. Her lips were soft, and she felt so good pressed against me. She grabbed my hoodie like she might’ve floated away if she hadn’t.
I walk faster. There’s a guy on his porch four doors down smoking a cigarette. He nods at me, and I nod back. It doesn’t stop my racing heartbeat. It’s pounding against my chest.
“Fuck.” I say it under my Camdenth and press my hand against my lips. I can’t remember the last time a kiss meant more than just lust.
Hawthorne is still going when I come up the driveway. Two guys sit on the porch, whom I half-recognize. There’s a girl in between them crying. She looks up at me and hides her face.
The party has thinned to about twenty people. The freshmen are mostly gone. Stanley is somewhere I can’t see, and I am grateful for it. I find Gianna in the kitchen with Walsh’s girlfriend.
“I walked Lucy home. She’s good.”
“Cool. I’m gonna stay a bit.”
I say, “I’m heading up. You crashing here?”
“Yeah, probably.”
“My floor’s open.”
“Thanks, bro.”
I almost say something. Instead, I lick my lips and taste Lucy again. Impulse moves through me, and instead of telling my sister that I broke her one and only rule, I go upstairs.
I take off my hoodie and throw it on my desk chair. I close my bedroom door and pace the room. My hands rub the back of my neck, relieving pressure.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I lay in my bed for I don’t know how long when my bedroom door opens, and I hear my sister say, “It’s just me.”
I have a king bed, but she refuses to sleep in it because she doesn’t know who’s been in it. She takes the ground, and I finally relax. I roll onto my side and face the wall. I close my eyes.
I wake up to a phone buzzing against the floor. At first, I thought it was my headache. When I open my eyes, I feel a tightness in my chest that’s aching even worse than my head. I fumble for my phone on the nightstand and let my arm drop over the side of the bed.
When I glance down, Gianna is on the floor in the sleeping bag. She’s fully dressed from last night with mascara on her cheekbone. Her phone is face up on the carpet next to her, screen lit.
Lucy.
The call ends. It immediately starts ringing again.
“G.”
She doesn’t move.
I lean further off the bed and shake her shoulder. “G. Wake up. Your phone.”
She mumbles in her sleep.
I say louder, “Gianna. Lucy’s calling you again.”
I put the phone in her hand. She blinks at the screen. Her thumb gets there before her brain. She answers on the last ring.
“Lucy, hey—”
Her face scrunches as I hear only a fraction of what Lucy’s saying. She sits up so fast the sleeping bag falls down to her waist.
“Wait — what — slow down — Lucy, slow down, I can’t — what?”
I sit up against the headboard, heart hammering.
“Your face?” Gianna gasps, covering her mouth. “Okay. Okay, okay, okay. I’m coming. I’m at Benson’s. I’m coming right now.”
I sit up, putting my feet on the ground. I’m trying to listen, but I can’t hear what she’s saying.
“Lucy, Camdenthe. Camdenthe. I’m on my way. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
She hangs up and looks at me.
“What?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Gianna says, shooting to her feet. She’s looking around for her things. “But I have to go. She’s freaking out.”
I pull a clean t-shirt over my head and grab the hoodie off the back of my desk chair.
“I’m coming.”
“No.” She shakes her head.
“G.”
“No, Benson. She specifically said don’t bring anyone.”
I stop with the hoodie halfway over my head. “What?”
She’s at the door, touching her back pocket for her phone that she’s holding in her other hand. When she realizes she has her phone, she shakes her head at herself.
“Text me, please.”
“Don’t come over.”
“I won’t.”
She leaves. I hear her running down the stairs. I’m left standing in the middle of my bedroom in a hoodie and one shoe. I take it off and fall back into bed. What the fuck is going on?
Thirty minutes go by, and I’m feeling anxious. I text Gianna.
Me: Update?
Five minutes pass.
G: We’re at urgent care.
Fuck. I stare at her text.
Me: What happened?
She doesn’t respond. I set the phone face down on the bed and stare at the ceiling. I recognize the feeling in my chest. It’s the same feeling I had last night after I closed the door of her building and started walking. Same source. Different temperature. I don’t know what to do with it.
Blue knocks on my bedroom door. “You want to come down?”
“No, not really.”
“Okay.” He goes.
It’s four in the afternoon when the phone buzzes.
I already sweated out last night’s alcohol the best that I could.
It helped ease my mind a little too. I’m on the bed by then, on top of the comforter, fully dressed in clean clothes after a shower, lying on my back.
I roll over and grab the phone off the desk.
G: Home from urgent care. She’s okay.
I close my eyes for a second and let out a Camdenth.
Me: Thank God.
G: Yeah.
Three dots. Three dots stop. Three dots again.
G: She asked me not to tell you, so you can’t say anything.
Me: Got it.
G: Thank you for waking me up this morning.
Me: Yeah.
I set the phone down on the comforter next to me.
She’s okay. That’s the part I needed. That is the only part that matters today.
I get up and go downstairs.
The house looks like it just had a party — somebody’s left shoe is by the back door, three half-finished drinks on the counter, a pizza box on a chair.
Rowan is at the gym. Stanley is, presumably, somewhere.
Percy is at the dining table reading. Blue is on the couch in the living room with the TV on low. Both of them look up when I walk in.
I sit next to Blue and watch the screen. The sun starts going down around seven, so I go out on the porch for some fresh air.
I have to be normal on Tuesday at four o’clock.
I can’t bring up the fact that I know something happened today, even though I want to know what’s going on.
I can’t just outright ask her without getting Gianna in trouble and risking the trust in their friendship.
If Gianna knew that I kissed her last night, Gianna wouldn’t have been texting me updates.
I rest my head in my hands. I’m not sure I can be normal at four o’clock on Tuesday.
But all I needed to hear was that she is okay.
I have three days until I see her again.
Three days is a long time.