Chapter 17 #2
“It’s not your fault.” I’m still trying to dry my legs with the sleeve of my jacket. “I should’ve been looking where I was going.”
Ben leans over me to take a dry rag from the bar.
As he does so, he presses his body against mine, chest to chest. I can almost taste the aftershave at his neck.
Feeling his weight against me only stirs up one thought.
To stop this passionate thought, I tightly shut my eyes and bite my lip.
Then I remind myself of two words: Friends.
Colleagues. When Ben pulls his weight away from me, I open my eyes again.
He looks tired; dark, purple circles rest underneath his marvellous eyes.
With the bar rag in his hand, Ben starts to dab at my jeans.
“You really don’t have to do this.”
He doesn’t reply to me, so I take a step back and grab the rag from him. “Ben, stop.”
“You’re still wet.” He reaches for the rag again.
“I’m fine. I’m fine,” I say, exasperated.
Neither of us says anything after that. We stare at each other. Me, sticky and wet, and Ben, looking like he hasn’t slept in days.
“Nick, I—”
“Is that Ben Kehoe over there?” someone calls. Within seconds, a swarm of people has engulfed Ben. I recognise some of them as the paralegals I saw outside Trisha’s coffee van many weeks ago. Others are fellow barristers that I’ve seen Ben converse with.
“I heard what happened. Are you alright?”
“The poor crater. It’s just awful news.”
“If you need anything at all, let me know,” they say.
I don’t know what they’re talking about, and I don’t care to find out.
The swarm has formed a circle around Ben now, one which I am not a part of.
Some of the girls are rubbing his shoulders, whispering into his ear, and hugging him.
Seeing this, a sick feeling crashes through me, and my throat constricts.
I will never have the pleasure of doing this.
A friend doesn’t whisper into another’s ear like that.
A colleague doesn’t wrap their arms around another’s torso like that.
I’ll never have this with Ben Kehoe. Never.
I take my now half-empty drinks and make my way back to Melissa’s party. I hear Ben call my name as I disappear into the crowd. I don’t look back. I’m afraid if I do, I’ll start to cry.
I hand Melissa her birthday drink. It’s a colourful cocktail that I cannot remember the name of. She sips from the strangely shaped glass, then asks, “What’s wrong, Nick? You’ve got a face like a slapped arse.”
I don’t tell her the true reason for my proximity to tears, how Ben and I were moments away from having sex on his sofa only to be stopped by a phone call, how Ben ghosted me. Instead, I guffaw. “That’s harsh.”
Melissa takes a long sip from her straw. “But a nice slapped arse.”
We chuckle together after that. When the DJ speaks into a microphone, I’m grateful for the interruption.
“I want everyone out on the floor for this!” he shouts.
Seconds later, Macarena starts to play. Just like the DJ asked, people fly out onto the dance floor; even people from the front bar burst through the double doors to dance along with Melissa’s party. Melissa and I enthusiastically join the train of people stepping out onto the dance floor.
While I fling my hands in front of me, over my chest and shake my hips in unison with the rest of the party, I take a look around the room.
I spot the girls that were once wrapped around Ben a few metres in front of me, dancing and laughing like they haven’t the slightest care in the world.
When I look towards the double doors, I see Ben, standing there alone, just watching.
Watching me. I return his stare but break it when it’s time to move to a different side.
“Looking good,” Melissa says as we put our hands to the rear of our heads.
Ben is still looking at me when the song finishes.
I think about going to him. I could ask him why he’s been out of the office, why he hasn’t returned any of my work-related correspondence.
This would erect a strong wall between us, one where we can only talk about work.
Create a boundary so we stay solely as colleagues and occasional friends.
Grimly, a brute walks in front of me before I can act. It’s James Adams. I lose all sense of self. Icy dread shoots down my spine. James towers above me, and I have to step back to avoid touching his protruding, squishy beer belly.
“Nick Carthy,” he spits wickedly. I can taste the alcohol on his breath.
I keep my head down. “I don’t want any trouble, James. I was just leaving.” My voice is thick with raw panic. I try to step around him; he blocks me with an outstretched arm.
“Were you now?” he taunts. “You know, I was watching you out there with all the girls.”
I remain silent, terror closing my throat.
James strokes his patchy beard, pretending to be in thought. “Made a right show of yourself, didn’t you?”
“James, like I said, I was just leaving,” I parrot. Fear is flooding through me. I need to get out of here. I try to step by him again but am thwarted by his other arm.
“Where are you off to in such a rush? Meeting your boyfriend?” James giggles to himself.
“Just let me through.”
I burst past James; he’s forced to step aside.
He makes a big show of throwing his hands in the air and shouting ‘Woah!’ to make it look like I’m the vicious bad guy.
Nobody engages with him. Once I get past him, I keep walking until I’m outside.
Melissa is still inside, enjoying her party like she should.
I plan to text her when I get back to my hotel room.
I’ll make an excuse; say I have a migraine. She’ll understand.
It’s a dark, moonless night. It’s chilly outside.
An unfriendly breeze creeps through Dublin City, sending tremors through me.
My jacket isn’t heavy enough to combat the chill.
I ram my hands into my pockets and hunch forwards in an effort to keep warm.
Miserably, thanks to the drinks I spilled on myself earlier, I’ll be cold no matter what I do.
“Nick,” Ben calls after me. He’s crossing the road to reach me.
I try to hide down an alleyway, but he’s already found me.
“Nick,” he says again as he gets closer to me. He’s out of breath, and he stops his jog when he gets to me. “What happened?”
Tears gush from my eyes as I replay my encounter with James.
I let him do it to me again. I let him walk all over me.
I turn away from Ben and start to bullet forwards.
I’m trying to pull my phone from my pocket, but it’s knotted in the tight denim.
“C’mon!” I shout at it, cheeks hot and tears burning in my eyes. “C’mon, you fucker!”
I hear footsteps close behind me.
Ben gently mouths, “Hey, hey.” Catching me, he puts out his hand and calmly rubs my arm.
“Stop it, Ben. Stop it!” I scream. “I don’t need your help!”
Even with me yelling, Ben remains quiet and doesn’t speak until he’s standing right in front of me, eye to eye.
“What’s going on, Nick? This isn’t you.”
He stretches out his hand, to do what, I do not know. I flinch away from it.
“Talk to me. Please.”
My mouth knits shut.
“Why won’t you talk to me? Are you upset with me or something?”
“No,” I say bluntly.
“Then talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. I saw you with James Adams. Did he say something to you again? I’ll kill him if he did.” There’s venom in his tone; his nostrils flare.
“Just stop!” I shout. I drop my hands at my sides.
“I have upset you,” Ben says. “What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing.” I reach for my phone again.
Ben stops me. “Nick,” he pleads.
It feels like the weight of the world has fallen onto me; I’m suffocating beneath the pressure. Suddenly, my clothes feel too tight on my body. I roar vindictively. Thankfully, everyone I know is still inside at Melissa’s party, so they cannot hear me.
“What, Ben? What do you want? What do you want me to tell you?” I look around. “You disappear for days on me. And now you just show up at Melissa’s party. Why? Do you want me to tell you that everything is perfectly fine? That the slate between us has been wiped clean once again?”
Ben steps back, hands up in surrender. His face holds an expression I’ve never seen before. His brow is furrowed, and his tired eyes look empty, like he’s lost. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I’m done trying to figure out whatever this is.” I swing my hand between us. “You obviously don’t even think enough of me to give me a text back or an explanation when you disappear for days. But you somehow found the time to tell everybody else in there—”
“Nick—”
“But you wait until after you’ve kissed me—”
“Keep your voice down, Nick—”
“In some sick game where you try to best me because that’s all we’ll ever be. Rivals.”
Ben waits until I’m heaving to say coolly, “Are you done?”
Desperate to not be one-upped, I take a breath and say, “Why did you disappear? Everyone except the boy you were kissing moments before you got the call seems to know. Why?”
Ben presses his thumb and index finger to his forehead. He struggles to get the words out. “It’s my dad. There was an accident on the family farm, and he’s in hospital. He’s fine now, but it was touch and go for a while.”
I stop, shocked. “I’m so sorry to hear that.” With my fury returning, I say, “Why didn’t you tell me, Ben? Why did I have to drag it out of you, when it’s just another day’s news for everyone else in there?”
“I didn’t think you’d care.”
Offended, I scoff. “What?”
Ben’s deep voice rises. “I didn’t think you cared about my personal life.”
My stomach sinks, and my heart stops. I’m at a loss for what to say.
While the wind whistles and the thumps of the Dublin City nightlife shake the ground, I’m connecting the dots in my head.
It all adds up: the distancing himself, the disappearing.
Ben didn’t disappear because of our kiss.
He disappeared because he needed to be with his family.
My heart aches for him. I hate myself for being so selfish.
“But now I see that I did more harm than good,” Ben adds. “Jesus, I was trying to keep things professional. Just like you, I don’t know what this is between us. All of this is new territory for me, Nick.”
With a raised brow, I ask, “What are you trying to tell me?”
Ben scratches his head. “I don’t know. I think… I…” he stutters. “Jesus… Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for letting my feelings get the better of me. And I’m sorry I got scared and disappeared.”
A tense stillness ensues.
Breaking it, Ben huffs. “Can we just go slow? No labels. No expectations. No plans. Can we just see what happens between us? That way, if either of us wants to pull out, or if your posh boy takes you back, there won’t be too much to lose. Deal?”
I can’t think about Tom. I only want to think about Ben.
Instead of trying to say anything, I slowly step towards Ben and wrap my arms around his comfy torso.
I push my face against his chest and listen as his heartbeat starts to ease.
Ben wraps his arms around me and puts his chin on my forehead.
We just stand there. Together. In each other’s arms.
“Deal,” I whisper.
Ben squeezes me tighter, and I squeeze back.
“Do you want a lift to the train?” Ben offers, setting me free. I don’t see his monster of a vehicle in our immediate vicinity, but it likely isn’t too far away.
“I’m good,” I say. But I’m not ready to say goodnight to Ben just yet. “You can walk me to my hotel if you’d like?”
Ben’s frown curls into a grin. “I’d like that a lot.”
Before we start towards my hotel, Ben takes a look around.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Is James back?”
Ben peeps over both shoulders and then looks back to me. He gestures to his open palm. “Take it.”
I step back. “Are you sure?”
He shrugs. “I’m sure.”
I slide my hand into his and absorb his warmth. His fingers are thick, strong, there’s tickling pieces of hair on his knuckles, and his palm is full of callouses.
“You’re cold,” he says, flinching.
“I’m always cold.” It’s true. Another trait I inherited from my mother.
Ben slides his fingers through mine. “You know what they say: ‘Cold hands warm heart’.”
I smile back at him. We walk to the hotel, hand in hand. Every so often, Ben tilts his head in my direction. The way he looks at me, like I’m one of the seven wonders of the world, sends a rush of tenderness through my freezing body.
Outside the brightly lit hotel, Ben apologises once more. “Again, I’m sorry I disappeared on you.”
“Don’t worry about it. You had your reasons.”
“I just hope that decision doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass.” Ben’s head is turned slightly downwards, and he’s looking down at me. Hopeful.
I wink. “I have it on good authority that it won’t.” I’m about to walk through the revolving doors, but there’s a question nagging at me. I turn back to Ben. “Why were you at Melissa’s party? I don’t remember Melissa telling me that you were invited.”
Ben picks at his bottom lip. “That’s because I wasn’t.”
I narrow my eyes. “Then why were you there?”
Ben takes a breath before proclaiming, “Because I wanted to see you.”
A seed of warmth sprouts inside me. My once-narrow, scrutinising eyes widen with content. An affectionate feeling spreads through me.
Ben adds, “Melissa told me about the party during the workplace training, and I knew you’d be there.”
With warmth rolling through me, I say, “Goodnight, Ben.”
“Goodnight, Nick. I’ll see you during the week.”
In bed that night, I have only one thought in my mind: maybe, if we stick to our deal and take things slow, we really could make whatever this is work.