Twenty-Four #2
Even now, practice is done, but he isn’t, he’s still on my fucking ass, he’s a step behind me, a palm planting itself against the swinging door to prevent me from slamming it in his face.
‘Wow.’ I don’t turn to look at him, don’t stop my strides, but I still feel his eyes roam the length of me. ‘Rough night?’
Throat too tight to squeeze any words out, I hope my middle finger says everything I can’t.
‘Aw, babe.’ Ben chuckles darkly, jogging to catch up with my long strides and plant himself in my path. ‘Don’t be mad at me. I’m not the one who kept you out all night.’
I can’t articulate that nobody kept me anywhere, that my late, drunken night was all my own doing, that that’s not even why I’m such a mess today, and I wouldn’t even if I could.
I have no energy, let alone any to waste on Ben.
Even the simple act of ignoring him drains me, my whole body heaving as I shift direction, hurrying to the safety of my car before the breakdown I feel nipping at my heels finally crashes.
Except today isn’t my day. The universe isn’t my friend – it just had to put another obstacle in my path, and my entire body locks as my gaze lands on the Cove College swim team.
‘There she is,’ Kai hollers, with a playful shimmy. Mid-salsa, he stretches out a hand, two fingers crooking in an invite to join his little dance – to recreate last night, I remember with a humiliated flush.
The limb drops, as does his smile, when I completely ignore him.
I ignore all of them, every single member of the team because every single one of them hollers out some kind of greeting.
As if one night partying in the vicinity of each other suddenly makes us best friends.
Palpable confusion stains the air when I don’t greet them back, and I don’t get why they expected anything different, why they care.
I don’t get why Heath doesn’t take my stormy silence as a hint, why he can’t tell that I’m not in the mood, why I have to very clearly, very bluntly state, ‘Don’t talk to me right now’, for him to fucking get it.
The hand that was a mere inch away from curling around my bicep freezes mid-reach.
I’m gone before it can retract, leaving ooohhs and aaahhs and questions of trouble in paradise in my wake.
I don’t look back, I keep my gaze forward, a wise choice turned into a horrible mistake, because Ben is suddenly forward, Ben is leaning against his car where he parked it next to mine, Ben is staring and smirking and delighted, but I guess that’s better than Heath, stunned and confused and hurt.
But what would be best, really, is to not see either of them. To not be near either of them. To not be near anyone.
My shaky hands fumble my car keys. I swear and I grunt and I yank on the stupid stuck door of my stupid old car so hard, I almost fall on my ass.
Correcting myself at the last moment, I throw myself behind the wheel, well aware that I’m embarrassing myself.
I’m only adding to my own humiliation, and I’m frustrated and annoyed and upset.
Fuck, I’m upset. I wasn’t good enough for my stepmother yesterday and I wasn’t good enough for my coach or my team or, fuck, my dad today, and, last night, I wasn’t good enough for Heath, and I hate that that’s so upsetting to me.
I hate that, somewhere in my brain, a wire has gotten crossed – I let it get crossed.
I let myself get upset even though I know so much better.
White-knuckling the steering wheel, I press my forehead to the plastic cover, eyes closed as I try to steady my breathing only for it to get worse, thinner, shakier, as I sniffle and liquid leaks from my eyes.
I flinch when the door opens, I flinch when I recognize the invader by scent alone, I flinch when a hand cups my shoulder gently, and again as I bite out, ‘Leave me alone.’
‘Can’t.’
‘Try.’
‘My hero complex doesn’t let me leave beautiful girls crying alone in parking lots.’
‘Just ugly ones, then?’
‘No such thing.’ Knuckles drag down my spine, and I’m not sure if I arch away from the touch because I can’t stand it, or because I like it too much. ‘Bad practice?’
My grip tightens even more. ‘Really bad.’
‘I’m sorry.’
You should be. It’s all your fault.
‘Listen,’ I start, pausing when my voice cracks. ‘I’m really not in the mood to be your girlfriend right now, so maybe you could just do me a favor and leave me the fuck alone.’
I don’t mean it to come out so nasty. It sounds desperate in my head, it feels like a woeful plea, but, out loud, it sounds . . . cruel. Unnecessary. It sounds like a punch to the gut.
It must feel like one too, if a sharp, whistling inhale is anything to go by.
Heath’s touch falls away. It curls around the doorframe instead, metal creaking with how hard he grips it.
He clears his throat, and I wonder if he’s coughing away something nasty of his own.
If he’s as capable of being mean as I am, but he’s just better at holding his tongue. ‘Later then. I’ll come over.’
‘I don’t—’
‘Did you hear a question?’
My mouth snaps shut.
‘Need to talk to you, Dani.’
Shockingly, that ominous profession does very little to sway me. ‘About what?’
‘Nothing bad,’ he promises, easily anticipating that that’s the first place my mind jumps. ‘You don’t think we need to talk?’
‘I think we talked plenty this morning. And if it’s about last night—’
‘It is.’
‘Then I’ve heard it already. Really don’t need to hear it again.’
‘It’s all brand-new information. Scout’s honor.’
‘You really were a Boy Scout, weren’t you?’
‘Eagle Scout, honey.’
Of course. Sighing, I let my head loll to one side, my temple throbbing against my knuckles while my eyes throb at that open face of his.
He does nothing to hide his hurt. That frustration painting his face with harsh lines, I feel as clearly as I do my own.
His desperation, I can’t quite separate from my own.
‘Sorry,’ I say quietly, gaze homing in on the dimple that makes the briefest of appearances. ‘For snapping.’
His smile is pallid. Perfunctory. Fleeting; he barely flashes it before robbing me of the sight. Quickly, almost rushed, he rises out of my eyeline. ‘I’ll see you later.’ He bids me goodbye through the roof of my car, rapping his knuckles against it before backing up and closing my door.
Without looking at me, he takes off at a near-fucking run.
Nothing bad, he swore.
For once, I don’t trust him.
I’m dithering in the center of my apartment, gaze flitting between the text that promises an imminent arrival and my closed front door when, finally, the doorbell rings.
Beneath a stolen Cove College hoodie, my stomach constricts. Trepidation sends a whole freaking horde of butterflies flapping wildly.
Nothing bad, I remind myself for the umpteenth time. Clinging to those two words, I do my best to believe them whilst my brain tries valiantly to convince me otherwise, and I paste on my best attempt at an easy-breezy smile.
A complete waste of energy, considering that, when I open the front door, it isn’t Heath I find on the other side.
Without so much as a first thought, let alone a second one, I try to slam it shut again. When a strong hand plants against the wood and prevents that, I bark, ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
Ben smiles. Like, actually. He doesn’t sneer or smirk or leer, he just smiles. Normally. Sincerely. As sincere as a quiet, ‘Checking on you.’
I blink. Frown. Internally cuss myself out for being so idiotic as to think that anything about Ben is ever sincere. Even if, right now, he does look remarkably like the guy I actually, once upon a time, really fucking liked. ‘Whatever this is, I don’t have time for it.’
‘I’m here to apologize.’
I can’t help it – I laugh out loud. In lieu of pinching myself, I roll my shoulder back until that pesky ache twinges, and once I’ve confirmed that I’m not dreaming, I laugh again. ‘And what’s brought on this sudden apology?’
His expression clouds – guilt darkens it.
‘Let me guess.’ I cross my arms over my chest, hip resting against the doorframe. ‘You and Sienna broke up.’
Thin lips press together tightly. Of course. How utterly predictable. ‘Get the fuck out of here, Ben.’
‘C’mon, Dani.’ He pushes the door, gaining another inch. ‘I’m sorry.’
I throw all of my goddamn weight into it, but it’s no use. He props a forearm against the wood and he shoves his fucking foot up against it too, and even when I kick his ankle, he doesn’t back off. ‘I don’t care.’
‘Yes, you do. I know you do.’
‘You know shit.’
‘I know we were good together.’
Laugh isn’t a strong enough word for the level of amusement that comes out of me. ‘You’re delusional, and I’m with Heath now.’
‘Are you? Saw you arguing today.’
‘You fucked another person while we were together. I think me and him are allowed a little argument.’
‘I know you don’t really like him.’