CHAPTER 9
BEN
Annabelle talks for a straight ten minutes, and I don’t pick up half of it. We’re in front of a beautiful figure painting, but all I see is Holly laughing while she stands in Jasper’s arms. Jasper is charming and funny, and even though I don’t swing that way, I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t one of the hottest guys I knew. So, I’m not surprised that she likes him.
That is exactly why I want to punch him in his douche-bag face.
He knows exactly how hung up on her I am. But what does he do the moment he sees her? Steals her away!
Holly would probably tear me a new one for saying someone is capable of stealing her. Probably say something along the lines of her not being a toy for boys to fight over. She’d want me to be honest with her, to tell her that I’d hoped we could spend the whole party together.
But what did my dumb ass do? I let my ex climb all over me and then abandoned the woman I really wanted to be with to my friend while I disappeared upstairs with said ex.
And we’ve been up here, going on fifteen minutes now. Holly probably thinks I have no interest in spending time with her. Maybe that I only invited her to make Annabelle jealous.
As my brain works through the idiocy that is me, I don’t notice at first that Annabelle has gone quiet. When I finish my brain cartwheels, I turn to find her gazing up at me with a content smile.
“I love watching you get lost in my work.”
Because I feel bad about tuning her out, I give her something. “You’ve switched up your brushstrokes. Gives the pieces more fluidity.”
She giggles and rolls her eyes. “Look at you, Ben. Trying to talk like an artist.”
Wow.
Yeah, I’m done with this.
Like I thought, she brought me up here just for the ego boost, not to have a real conversation about her work.
Annabelle creates beautiful paintings, but her self-centered way of thinking is one of the main reasons I broke things off with her.
The other was that she didn’t make my blood heat or my heart race, the way my dad had once described falling in love with Mom.
“I’m going to head back downstairs. Holly’s probably looking for me.”
“Wait.” Her grip on my arm is light but still feels intrusive, especially because she’s holding my left forearm, close to where I place the needles for my treatment. “Are you and Holly …”
The vagueness of her question grates on my nerves, but it’s also the fact that I know what she’s asking and can’t give the answer I want. Still, what we are and aren’t isn’t her business.
“I’m not sure why it matters.” That comes out a bit harsh, but she’s the one who decided to pry.
“Oh.”
So familiar. Instead of clarifying or apologizing for being intrusive or even coming back at me for my tone, she uses that one word. As Annabelle so often did in the past, she pairs it with downcast eyes and bowed shoulders.
In the beginning of our relationship, that word and pose would bring on a strong wave of guilt, and I’d spend hours doing my best to make up for upsetting her. I thought she was fragile, possibly hurt from a past experience and in need of some coddling. Then, when we spent time with her parents, I watched her use the same pose on her father while giving me a sly smile behind his back. That was when I realized how skilled she was at lying with her body when she wanted to get her way.
But I’m not her boyfriend. We’re not even friends really. So, I don’t need to put up with her manipulations.
“If you have something to say, Annabelle, just say it. I don’t want to play these games. My friends are waiting for me.” I keep the anger of the past out of my tone and just speak straight.
Still, her mouth pops open, and her eyes widen. I’m not the same guy I used to be with her, and I don’t feel like pretending.
“But not your girlfriend?”
She’s asking me to spell out that I’m not with Holly. Like asking me to twist a knife in my own gut.
Well, I don’t owe her that. I don’t owe her anything.
“My relationship status isn’t something I want to discuss with you. I get the feeling you’re asking because of more than just general curiosity. I’m not trying to be mean, but we’re not dating anymore, and I think that’s the best. We didn’t work.”
“I just don’t understand what happened. We were perfect together.”
This only emphasizes my point. The fact that she has no idea how I felt about our relationship means communication really hadn’t existed. We were just surface level.
“It wasn’t perfect for me. This isn’t going to happen between us, and it’s not because there’s someone else.” That’s mostly true.
When I broke up with Annabelle, it was for my own reasons. But, now, even after just spending a short time with Holly, I’ve glimpsed what real attraction is. Maybe, without her, I would have relapsed and gone back to Annabelle. Now, I know I never will.
“But what did I do wrong?” She still has her fingers curled around my arm, her grip becoming tighter and making my fistula itch and ache.
“Nothing. You were just yourself, and that’s completely fine, but we don’t work together. Don’t change who you are. Just find someone who wants to be with you. I’m going now.”
I disengage from her grasp and head downstairs before she can call me back to fix something that never worked right in the first place. I’m ready for something new. Something that feels right.
I’m ready for Holly.
Ben and Annabelle definitely aren’t over. They disappeared upstairs twenty minutes ago, which I know because I keep checking the clock on the wall. Before, I was happy to sidestep spending more time around her, but now, even Jasper’s constant stream of dry humor can’t keep me distracted from the fact that the guy I’ve been silently stuck on is likely sticking it to another girl at this very moment.
Why did Ben even invite me? I get that we came as friends, but does that make it okay for him to go hook up with his ex after only being here for five minutes?
Silly me got excited about the invite. Thought I’d have some college-aged fun with my new friend. And, yeah, maybe the back chunk of my brain that always ignores reason developed a few different hopes. There might have been a fantasy or two about finding a dark corner, pressing myself against Ben as he ran his hands along the curves of my body.
Instead, I’m still here, dancing with Jasper. Not that he isn’t a great-looking, fun guy. But, for some reason, his fingers wrapped around my waist are less arousing than the gentle brush of Ben’s against the back of my hand.
Stupid hormones.
Embarrassment grows hot in my chest as I realize how ridiculous my unconscious expectations for the night were. Luckily, Jasper utters a naughty joke at that moment, so the heat rising in my cheeks can be explained away by his vulgar mouth.
“I doubt they’re doing anything up there.”
I pull my eyes away from the stairs where they strayed to yet again to find Jasper watching me with a sly curve to his mouth.
I shrug in a lame attempt to play off my vigilance. “Ben’s his own person. If he wants to get back together with his ex, that’s none of my business.”
“Do you want it to be your business?”
Jasper isn’t someone who chooses politeness over discomfort. It was a trait that made me gravitate toward him in class, knowing he’d make an honest classmate. Now, I wish I could just stuff his prying question back down his throat, so I don’t have to admit my crush out loud to yet another person. Instead, I’m stuck, standing here, with his piercing gaze boring into my evasive one.
“I want to be Ben’s friend.” And I also want to make out with him. But I don’t need to articulate that fact. “That’s a good relationship to aim for. With our kidney exchange and all.”
“So, because you’re giving him your kidney means you can’t be anything more than friends?” Jasper slips the hand on my waist up to clasp the one I have resting on his shoulder and proceeds to direct another intricate spin move.
I’m not sure if he just had the inspiration to step up our display or if he’s giving me time to consider my answer. While unraveling from his arm, I notice we’re not the only ones swaying to the music anymore. A few more couples have found the liquid courage to join us.
When I’m back to my original position, facing Jasper, his raised eyebrow demands an answer. I can’t help the defeated sigh, a sound that emerges from my unfulfilled fantasies and the pressure of doing the right thing.
“It doesn’t mean, we can’t be. It means, we shouldn’t be.” As the sensible words emerge, I experience a vivid memory of a disappointing phone call that has me practically begging Jasper for his understanding. “This exchange can’t fall through. Not again.”
The amusement tickling behind his prying questions fades as true confusion takes its place. “What do you mean, again?”
That last bit slipped out. This is all too heavy for a Friday night.
“Never mind. Why are we even talking about this? We’re at a party!” My forced enthusiasm only results in him frowning. “Come on, Jasper. Let’s talk about something else.”
We’re both silent for a moment, but when he relaxes, so do I.
“I’ll let it go. For now.”
I stick my tongue out at him, and he laughs. Then, I laugh because it feels good to ignore the heavy things for a bit.
“Do you mind if I cut in?”
I repress a shiver at the smooth cadence of that voice.
Jasper smirks before literally bowing out, like he’s a knight at court. “’Tis up to the lady, my liege.”
Ben steps into view, pointedly ignoring the ridiculous antics of his roommate, and offers me his hand.
Despite the laughter, I still maintain the weight leftover from the reality reminder. I know, if I let myself fall into Ben’s arms and dance the night away, I’ll likely do something stupid. So, with a strength of will giants would envy, I shake my head, smiling to soften the rejection.
“I think I’m good on the dancing. But let’s go see what else this party has to offer.”
The disappointment in his eyes cuts at me. I want to step forward, clutch his hand, and wrap the other around his neck as we sway together. But he’s already let it drop back to his side to slide into his pocket while Jasper straightens behind him, smirking at me.
Pushing through the discomfort, I turn back to the kitchen where I’m sure I saw people walking down a set of stairs earlier. With more effort than earlier, I weave through the growing crowd.
I trust Ben to follow me even if I can’t trust him not to tempt me.