Chapter Four. #2
It didn’t work. Dad chimes in…and not quietly. As loud as a car horn, he yells, “Charlotte! How many times have we told you not to eat the crumbs off the floor! We can afford to have food on the table now that you’ve started working here!” He peeks down at me and starts laughing.
Completely mortified, I throw my face into my hands to hide. I want to die. I guarantee Ben could hear him. He knows my dad’s voice, and it was not a quiet joke. Maybe since he’s with Tree he won’t come over here. A girl can hope.
“Heyyyy Mr. and Mrs. Windsor, how are ya?” Ben spouts happily.
My stomach drops like I just fell thirty floors, my breath catching in my throat. His usual black and white sneakers appear right in front of our booth with black heels following closely behind.
It’s them. I can’t believe he stopped by to say hi while Tree’s with him.
Oh God, please don’t check down here.
My palm presses into my mouth hard to stifle my breathing, unable to come up with anything else to do at the moment.
“Oh, you know our names, come off it with that,” Mom chuckles back.
They always do this. Ben gets a kick out of calling them that, because he says our last name sounds like something spies or secret agents have. Plus, it makes my parents uncomfortable. He takes pleasure from the oddest things.
“I know. I just like seeing you squirm. How ya doing Sarah and Brady?”
“Well, we were doing good until just recently.” Oh no, Dad’s got that mischievous tone in his voice. He’s going to give me away. I just know it.
No one speaks for a minute as the sounds of the restaurant and my hard, nervous breaths on my skin fill my ears.
My eyes widen in horror as Ben’s dark jeans crease, each inch showing more and more of his legs.
Oh, God. He’s bending down to check under here. How the heck do I escape this situation?
But my panic’s meaningless. There’s no way out.
Thick black hair strands appear just under the table's edge first. He gelled his hair for her…
It must be a real date then because he rarely does that unless there’s a special event. Another punch to the gut threatens to send me reeling.
Next his forehead, bushy brows and caramel brown eyes come into view. I’ve been caught. He waggles his eyebrows up and down in his usual joking manner, his smile revealing itself as he fully bends down. I’m surprised he’s approaching me like this in front of her.
Oh God, what do I do?
“Whatcha doing down there?”
With no other option, I fake an awkward smile and force out a laugh to break the tension. I didn’t think this through.
How do I gracefully get out from under the table?
I arch my back as much as possible to try and create space to slink back up into the booth but misjudge the space between the booth and the table. The salt and pepper shakers and plates clink as the table shakes from where my head hits it.
“Ouch,” I whisper, finally clearing the table and avoiding everyone’s gaze while I rub the top of my scalp, attempting to lessen the sting.
I can feel Ben staring me down, waiting for me to look at him.
Deep breath. You can do this.
Clenching my jaw, I dare a peek. Yet, instead of seeing him, my gaze meets right with Tree’s.
Crap.
Her grey eyes are almost black, sucking me in like an animal caught in a tar pit. I open my mouth to speak but freeze under her death glare. Is she a witch? This intimidation is of supernatural levels.
Ben catches onto my discomfort because he interrupts the stare down.
“Well, hey, we’re gonna go sit down. I'm starving, but I'll see you all later, alright?” he says confidently, turning away toward a booth in the back of the restaurant.
Tree gives me one last glare that would scare any person in their right mind and then follows behind him pompously with her shoulders back and breasts pushed out. She reaches to grab his hand, but he nonchalantly shakes it off.
Maybe he’s not back with her after all? All the signs would point to no, but they’re together alone, so I don’t know. Plus, he talked to me with her here and he’s never done that before…
Do I dare text him when I get home and ask him? What if he’s still with her when I do?
Oh, God, no. I can’t. I won’t. I’m not going to get tangled in that.
“Oooohh, who’s that girl he’s with?” Dad says in his high-pitched gossipy voice.
“That’s his or was his girlfriend. I’m not really sure if they’re still dating or not,” I whisper, leaning over the table.
“There’s no way. She’s not nearly as pretty or smart as you.” He winks.
“DAD! Stop.” I attempt to hide my face to save myself the embarrassment he’s putting me through, but my mother removes my hands, forcing me to participate in this conversation. “It’s not like that. You know Ben and I are just friends. There’s nothing there. He’s like my brother.”
But the words felt wrong as they left my lips. He definitely doesn’t feel like a brother anymore. Once again, my brain defaults back to the “what is this” question.
I dare a glance over at Ben and Tree but all I can see is their heads leaning toward each other over the top of the table with their hands intertwined.
My stomach plummets again. I feel sick. This emotional turbulence mixed with stuffing my face too quickly is not a great mix. Turning away, my nose and mouth crinkles from the nausea. I can’t watch them anymore.
“You okay, Charlotte? You look a little pale.” Mom’s gaze bores into me so deeply it’s like she’s peering into my soul. She pauses before glancing over her shoulder at them and then turning back to me.
“Uh, yeah. Can we go, please? I need to go home and lay down.”
“Sure, sweetie. Did you want to go say bye to Ben first before we head home?” Dad says, pointing over to their table the exact moment I catch them stealing a kiss.
Kill me.
“No.” I force out a small chuckle to hide the pain. “I don’t think they want to be disturbed.” Wetness clouds my vision as I bite my trembling bottom lip, focusing on my fingers twiddling nervously with each other in my lap.
Mom lightly punches Dad in the shoulder, making him retort, “What? What’d I say?”
On the way to the door, I pretend my eyes itch and rub all the wetness out of them to prevent any trace of unwanted tears. All I want is to go home, go to bed and not think about anything.
The drive home was quiet, an awkward tension hanging in the air. So many new uncomfortable emotions surfaced this week.
Is this going to be a new normal?
God, I hope not.
The second the car pulls into the garage I’m out, kicking my shoes off at the door and speeding upstairs to my room to check my phone and see if he texted me at all, knowing I’m glutton for punishment.
My heart flutters as I softly close my door and stare at the phone sitting face down on my desk. I want to see if he texted me, but I also dread checking because if he didn’t, I won’t be able to hold back these tears that I've been fighting back since we left the restaurant.
I whisper some encouragement to myself, willing myself to believe it. “This doesn’t matter. I’ll be fine either way. So what if he didn’t text you? I’ve been through this before with him.”
Okay, deep breath and…I flip my phone over quick like it’s on fire.
Nothing. The screen is still black. I click the side button to wake it up and nothing. Really? After all that I can’t even check it? How is my battery dead? I had it plugged in all night.
Squishing myself in between my desk and the wall, I spot my charger laying on the floor, unplugged. Ugh. I reach back and plug it in so my phone will charge. Maybe this is the universe sparing my feelings.
Sighing deeply, I stand in the middle of my room, looking around like a lost duckling. What do I do with myself now? It’s only three o’clock.
Well, I could go on a run to try and clear my head, but if someone tries to kidnap me, I’m toast, so I guess that’s out.
Hm…I could see if I have any paperwork to do for college admissions now that I'm accepted somewhere, but then I'd have to sit at my desk where I'm sure I'd just stare at my phone the whole time.
Mandatory weightlifting for track, it is. At least I’ll be out of the house and away from my phone for that.
But when I reach for my car keys off the hanger above my desk, my phone lights up, now charged just enough to show life.
My breath catches in my throat, heart skipping a beat. A text from Ben!
I snatch my phone up and sit staring at it, debating whether I should swipe up and read it now or wait.
The high of seeing he reached out could sustain me the rest of the afternoon, but what if I waited too long and got my hopes up for nothing?
What if this isn’t a good text? Slinking down in my chair, the internal battle consumes me.
I’ve never intentionally explored my feelings about Ben before.
What I’ve been feeling lately can only be described as jealousy toward Tree. Not jealous because of who she is but because of what she’s gained. Him. His body. His mind. Knowing him in a way I never have and becoming a completely intimate part of him.
The real question is…am I only jealous in a friendly way? Because of the way she knows him, and I don’t? Is it possessiveness over our friendship?
Yesterday popped into my mind, reminding me that wasn’t it.
How I felt when he was most likely flirting with me was definitely a want for him, and not just as a friend.
And it wasn’t embarrassment that he might see my almost naked body, but anticipation.
I was nervous about his touch, but I wanted him to be there with me, to explore and touch me in a new way.
How did I never realize it before? I’ve always looked for his motorcycle everywhere. In town, at his house, at school… I’m always checking to see if he’s around. Does he do the same for me?