CHAPTER 15 KAYLEE
I wish he’d just tell me not to go to dinner with Dane. My gut is screaming at me that he wants to say it, but something’s stopping him.
Instead, he told me to go. He told me he doesn’t want to hold me back from the things I deserve.
Further evidence that he doesn’t want whatever it is that I do want. Further proof that his words about keeping things casual between us are one hundred percent sincere.
Just when it felt like he was starting to let me in, he’s pushing me away.
When I first got to his house and he pulled me into his arms and kissed me the way he did, my choice was clear. As much as I once loved Dane, what I feel for Ben is completely different. Dane was there when I needed someone the most, but he’s my past. Ben is my future.
Or at least I was starting to hope he was. Now I’m not so sure.
He’s quiet while we eat. Too quiet. Clearly he’s struggling with what I just confessed, and I’m not sure how to bring things back to the way they were before. I want to lighten the mood, but we’re in this unfamiliar territory I can’t seem to navigate my way around.
I try to make conversation.
“How was your day?” I ask as I twirl some noodles around my fork.
“Fine.” He avoids eye contact with me.
“What did you do?”
“Workouts.”
A few beats of silence pass and the only noise in the room is chewing. “This is fantastic. Did your grandma teach you the recipe?”
“Yeah.” He doesn’t look up from his plate with his one-word answer and he doesn’t acknowledge the compliment.
“What’s your favorite recipe of hers?” I ask. I’m grasping at straws here.
“Pulled pork.” It’s the first two word answer I’ve gotten since we sat to eat.
I try to come up with some open-ended questions to ask, things to get him talking again, but it’s like he closed the shutters. “Tell me about your grandma.”
“She’s my dad’s mom. She still lives in Montana.”
I wait a few beats for him to add something—anything—but he doesn’t. I clear my throat. “Will you see her while you’re up there?”
He nods.
My fork scrapes against the plate, and the screeching noise is actually a comfort amid the noodle chewing.
I sigh loudly as I set my fork down. “Is everything okay?”
He finally glances up from his plate. He shrugs. “Yeah. Fine.”
So that’s how it’s going to be. He’s just going to shut down.
The fact that he’s not going to bother fighting for whatever we seemed to be starting speaks volumes.
I guess I was feeling something he wasn’t, and it’s better to learn that now than to keep pining for something that just isn’t going to happen.
“Doesn’t seem fine, but okay,” I mutter.
I don’t really know where we go from here.
We eat the rest of our meal in silence because I’m tired of trying to carry the conversation.
Once dinner is done and the dishes are clean—something we work on together even though we didn’t actually talk about who would be doing the dishes and it just seemed to come naturally—I press my lips together.
“I guess I’ll head home.” I expect him to try to stop me or at the very least to kiss me or make some sexual joke or to say something.
He doesn’t. He simply nods.
And in doing so, he’s telling me to leave without saying the words.
He’s telling me he doesn’t want me here.
He’s telling me I’d be better off with someone who wants me back—with someone who I have a history with, someone closer to my age who wants the same sort of future I want even though less than two hours ago, I didn’t know he wanted that same future and I hadn’t thought about him in quite a while.
And so I go. No goodbye kiss—not even for the benefit of the man in the car parked across the street eager to get a photo of whoever’s walking out of Ben Olson’s house.
I’m beyond confused as I get into my BMW. Is our deal even still on? Are any of our deals still on? There’s the secret sex, the fake relationship, the pretending in front of my family…and then there’s the real feelings that were blossoming so quickly that I feel sucker punched as I start the car.
My chest is heavy and heat pricks behind my eyes.
We were just having some fun, right?
So then why does this feel like rejection? Why does it hurt so damn bad?
And why do I wish he’d come running after me to stop me from leaving to tell me he feels it, too?
I trudge through my evening as I debate whether I should call Dane while I wait for some communication from Ben to come through.
My phone is silent, though. As silent as he was all through dinner.
I think about calling Ellie or chatting with Kate about this, but I’m afraid I’ll get emotional, and when I get emotional, my gums start to flap.
And if my gums start to flap, I might confess how hard and how quickly I’ve fallen for Ben Olson (and his Big O Thunder).
I might give away the secret we’ve fought so hard to keep.
And now, more than ever, I can’t afford for my family to find out.
If it’s over before they ever even knew about it, that’s fine.
Nothing has to change. But once the word is out, relationships are at stake.
If Jack knows Ben hurt me by completely giving up on me out of the blue rather than fighting through our first obstacle together, he’d choose to protect me over his friend.
And who knows what that could translate to in the locker room or on the field.
I certainly don’t want to be the cause of that sort of unnecessary drama.
I’ll give him the night to think all this through. Tomorrow’s a new day.
I say the words in my head as a little pep talk, but it doesn’t work. I ward off the tears until I’m by myself in my bedroom at Jack’s house, and then I cry as devastation rolls through me that I might’ve missed my chance with Ben.