Chapter 9 Ella
Iwoke to the dogs whining. It was probably time for them to go out, but I was just so tired.
And so warm. But not all that comfortable, I realized.
There was a crick in my neck. The right side of my face felt like I was lying on a rack of pork ribs.
What the hell was this pillow made of, rocks?
I punched it to try to smooth it out, and it moved in response, flinching away from me like it was alive.
I jerked upright, suddenly wide awake. A heavy blanket fell away to reveal the sight of Ben’s large body spread out beneath me. The flannel shirt he wore was rumpled. His feet hung a foot off the edge of his reclining seat. He cracked his eyes open and rubbed his ribs.
Ribs that I just punched.
We must have fallen asleep watching A Christmas Story. The last thing I remembered was Ralphie and Randy being bullied by Grover Dill.
I looked up. The TV was off, and the fire had burned down to ashes, but it was still dark outside. Fred and Sam pushed closer to me, sniffing and whining.
One second, boys. Emergency here.
The middle console with the folding table was back in the upright position, my butt having taken its place.
Had I fallen asleep like this, or had my unconscious body inchwormed its way over here and draped itself on top of Ben sometime during the night?
I was pretty sure I’d remember this level of snuggling, but for the life of me, I couldn’t. I must have done it while sleeping.
My subconscious was a lustful, traitorous bitch.
“Good morning,” Ben said, voice low and gravelly.
I scooted away from him. “I just punched you. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sure I deserved it.”
“We fell asleep.”
All hail Ella. Queen of the Obvious.
He grinned. “You first.”
“Was there…snoring?”
His grin gained a mocking edge. “Oh yeah. You woke the dogs up with it. I think they thought a bear was trying to break into the house. You quieted down once you decided I made a better pillow than the headrest, though.”
I leapt from the couch. My hamstring muscle cramped on landing and I almost toppled over sideways.
Ben sat up. “Are you okay?”
“The dogs! They have to go pee-poop.”
I snapped my mouth closed, horrified that I’d let slip the stupid sing-song expression I used when I let them out – You guys have to go pee-poop? – and shambled my way toward the front door like an overripe zombie with rotleg.
“Ella Jones,” Ben said from behind me. “Are you embarrassed?”
“No!” I called over my shoulder as I fled.
His laughter followed me outside.
The dogs raced into the darkness. I shut the door behind me and walked from the spill of porchlight into the shadows at the edge of the deck.
My palms hit the railing, and I recoiled.
It was freezing out, so cold that it felt like the wood had seared my skin.
An image of Flick’s tongue stuck to that pole flashed through my mind.
I wrapped my arms around myself and stepped side to side in my thick woolen socks to minimize the danger of frostbite.
I couldn’t go back in for my boots. Not yet.
Maybe not ever. I’d seen a lot of car heist movies.
Maybe I could hotwire the truck and peel out of there without ever having to see Ben again.
To answer his question: yes, I was embarrassed. I had been transmogrified from a human woman into a being made of humiliation and regret. So much for keeping my distance. So much for letting him decide things. He invited me over and I moved myself right in. Right on top of him, even.
The front door opened. I did my best to disappear into the darkness.
I am night. You cannot see me, mortal.
Ben walked right up to me, deflecting my Jedi mind powers with an ease that made me fear he was a Sith Lord in disguise.
He held out a heavy coat. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I took it and pulled it on.
It was one of his, and it absolutely swamped me.
God, did it smell good. Like vetiver and sandalwood and frankincense.
“Ella, where are your boots?”
Who had night vision this good? What was he, a werewolf? “Uh…I must have left them inside.”
He went back in and grabbed them, and I quickly pulled them on.
“I’m sorry, Ella” he said.
I wanted to shout at him to stop saying my name. Hearing it on his lips made me want to rise up and steal it off of them with my own.
His tone was full of regret when he spoke again. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
He was too nice. I couldn’t do this. I was going to succumb beneath the weight of this crush. My gravestone would read: Beware! Kindness really does kill.
I took a deep, steadying breath. “You didn’t embarrass me. I embarrassed myself. I’m sorry I fell asleep. I didn’t plan to. And I’m sorry for, you know, the snoring. And the sleeping on you.” I cringed. “And the punching.”
My own night vision had adjusted enough that I saw him lean back against the railing. “I didn’t mind.” He looked down at me, white teeth flashing in the darkness. “Well, maybe I minded the punching a little.”
I didn’t respond. I was too busy having an epic internal battle.
Did I cling to my shame, an emotion that was so rare for me that it almost felt alien?
Or did I take this man at his word and believe that he wasn’t secretly annoyed that some strange woman had just couch-crashed in his super-secret bat cave?
“You want to stay for breakfast?” he asked. “It’s almost seven.”
Poof. All other thoughts disappeared. That hadn’t been my eyes adjusting; it was the sun rising.
“In the morning?” I asked, voice shrill.
He frowned. “Yeah. Are you okay?”
“I stayed out all night and didn’t tell my sister.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t like making you lie for me.”
I shook my head. “I’ve decided not to lie.
Turns out, I’m no good at it. I’m just going to tell her I was at a friend’s and fell asleep.
If she gets pushy, I’ll go the “Where I was last night is none of your goddamn business” route.
She always hated when Mom and Dad tried to police her whereabouts, and turnaround is fair play. ”
“Then I’m sorry I put you in this position,” Ben said.
“You didn’t. I did. I made the choice to come over here, and to respect your privacy.”
“If it ever gets to the point that it bothers you, let me know. We can stop hanging out.”
“Does that mean you want to keep hanging out?” I asked, struggling to keep the unadulterated hope out of my tone.
“If you do,” he said, grinning. “It’s nice having a new friend.”
My heart swelled like the grinch after giving all the presents back. That was it. Put a fork in me. I was done. I’d passed the point of no return with this crush.
“I do,” I told him.
I heard a scrambling sound and turned. The dogs raced onto the porch. Sam barreled straight toward us and wedged his body between me and Ben’s legs, trembling. You know it’s cold when Huskies shiver.
We cleaned them off and brought them back inside.
They honed in on what remained of their rawhides while I went in search of my phone.
I found it in the kitchen. The battery was almost dead.
I unlocked the screen and saw a missed text from Megan around midnight that read: Hope you just fell asleep at a friend’s and aren’t bleeding out on the side of the road somewhere. Not waiting up for you any longer.
Guess she hadn’t been that worried after all.
Hey, I texted her. I did fall asleep at a friend’s. Just woke up. Sorry for not letting you know I’d be out all night. Be home in a bit.
She immediately texted back. Kind of nice to have the extended quiet last night. No offense. Glad you’re safe. Love you.
Love you too.
I set my phone down and looked up to see that Ben’s back was to me. His hair was wild from sleep. I had the strongest urge to reach out and tangle my fingers in it.
This was getting ridiculous.
I told myself, again, that he had come out here for peace and quiet, not to be the object of my lust. It helped clear the fog of hormones. The fog of sleep remained, and I was thrilled to see him pull a bag of coffee from an open cupboard and begin the motions of making a pot.
We stayed up late last night playing cards and talking. And talking. And talking some more. About everything. From benign topics like where it was safe to trail run once the snow melted to deeply serious discussions about race and politics like the one we’d had before starting cribbage.
We spoke like people who’d known each other for years and had moved past the fear of saying something that might lead to an argument or drive the other away.
I’d never clicked with someone like this before, or so quickly, and I was starting to worry that this crush might quickly morph into something more if I wasn’t careful.
A sharp ringing jarred me from my thoughts: the sound of an incoming FaceTime call.
Ben scooped up his phone and answered it. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, honey,” she said, sounding even more tired than I was.
He bent down to put the coffee bag away, and I caught a glimpse of her over his shoulder.
She was as beautiful as the pictures. In her mid-fifties, she had dark hair, light golden skin with pink undertones, and pale green eyes that she had passed on to her son.
Seeing them in another person’s face had taken me aback the first time we spoke.
“What are you doing up?” Ben asked. “It’s like three in the morning, your time.”
“I’ve been awake most of the night thinking about that asshole Commissioner, and I just wanted you to know that our lawyers are working together to –” Her eyes cut left. Our gazes met. I waved. The sleep cleared from her eyes as her expression morphed into surprise. “Is that Ella behind you?”
Realization dawned on me. It wasn’t even seven in the morning and I was at his house. We both looked like we’d just woken up. Because we had.
Ben turned toward me in slow motion, his eyes wide, as if just now coming to the same conclusion that I had: this situation could be easily misconstrued.
“Fuck,” he mouthed.