Bree
Sixteen-year-old Benny was America’s boy next door. Now, he’s a literal man next door, and I don’t think I can handle seeing the changes his body has undergone in the last decade, let alone feel them beneath my fingers.
I’ve been on the back of a motorcycle before. This isn’t the first time I’ve felt salty sea air in my face or the sun beating warmth on my skin while hugging a guy I think I might be crushing on.
But it’s the first time I’ve straddled a bike behind my ex-boyfriend who I was most definitely in love with once and still have unresolved feelings for.
He didn’t even grab a jacket, so I’m fully getting a feel for his firm chest and broad shoulders beneath the thin cotton of his T-shirt.
His quick heartbeat must be due to driving on the winding road and not me.
It wouldn’t be because of me. When I asked him about going to lunch, he didn’t even respond. I’m the one being forward, coming to his door. Maybe his lack of text reply was a message. A gentle denial. Ghosting me. His polite-ish way to communicate that he wants me to leave him the heck alone.
In which case, I’ve fully ignored it.
That’s not embarrassing at all.
The sun gleams over the ocean, shining brightly despite my black shades. Benny pulls into a small lot next to a faded red shack with picnic tables haphazardly lining the long sea grass.
“Best fish and chips around,” he calls over his shoulder.
I can feel his voice vibrating through his chest, which is weird. I need to put distance between us, stat. Letting go, I swing my leg over the bike and stand up, feeling my purse to make sure nothing fell out, but it’s still zipped.
“Hold on,” Benny says, removing his helmet. He runs his fingers through his hair, then reaches for mine. His hands pause, bracketing my head. His blue eyes pierce me, holding my feet in place. “Want to, uh, hold down your hair?”
He means my wig. Here I am getting a dry mouth over the way his eyes soak me in, but he’s only trying to make sure I don’t reveal my identity on my first outing in town.
“Yeah, thanks.” My chuckle is awkward as I get a good grip on the wavy blonde hair while he gently pulls the helmet free. My wigs are solid movie quality, so it stays put. Mostly. A little adjustment in his tiny side-view mirror and I’m good to go.
There are a handful of groups eating at the tables, which spikes my heart rate a notch.
This will be the real test. If I can pull this off, I’m safe for the month to move at will in this town.
I’m in yoga pants and a pink tank with wavy blonde hair cascading down my back, so I feel like I blend in.
There will be no reason to remove my sunglasses, because the order window for the shack is outside.
We’ll sit. We’ll eat. We’ll leave.
“Ben!” a guy calls from the tables, lifting a hand in a wave.
Great.
Benny waves back, then faces me. “Should we order?”
We place separate orders—leaving both under Ben’s name—drawing a clear delineation between us. This is not a date. I brought cash with me when I left Florida—a lot of cash—in case someone thinks to check my card activity to track me down.
I’ve watched too many Tom Cruise movies.
The only charge they’ll see is for the Airbnb, which won’t give my location away, just that I’m not staying in a hotel.
It would be a good idea to send Noah a text, but I’ve been putting it off.
Once I pop that bubble and connect with the outside world, there’s no going back.
I left a note when I ran away so he’d know how much to feed Peanut and understand that I’d be coming back for her.
I’m sure he isn’t too worried. He and Cat have a newborn taking up all their focus, anyway.
We step beneath the awning to gather napkins and vinegar while we wait.
“I’ll probably have to say hi to that group, but we don’t need to sit with them.” Benny rubs the back of his neck. “If you don’t want anyone to know you’re here, it’s probably best if you don’t talk at all.”
Wait. What?
“Why?” I ask.
Ben narrows his eyes, which I can faintly see behind his sunglasses. “Your voice is pretty easy to recognize. You are famous for it, you know.”
“I can disguise my tone.” Which I had just demonstrated, bringing it up an octave. A little more Barbie, a little less me.
He laughs, but quickly smothers it. His ocean eyes are glittering. “Seriously?”
“If you think it’s necessary, I’ll do it,” I say, keeping up the Barbie. “I’d rather not leave when I only just got here.”
Benny goes still. “Leave the beach, or leave Bodega Bay?”
“Leave California.” If I’m discovered, I’ll go home and hole up with my comforter and my dog. I really should call Noah and check on her, but I can’t face him yet. I can’t face anyone.
I set my phone to Do Not Disturb mode when I left Florida, and since I changed the settings to approve Benny and only Benny, I haven’t had to face anyone else yet.
All the notifications piling up don’t alert me, and I can clear them with a simple swipe of my finger, allowing me to prolong my ignorant bliss.
I’m sure my agent and my momager and probably my brother are all wondering where I am.
Logically, I recognize I should at least inform them I’ve made it to my destination. But the song releases in two days, and then everyone will know exactly why I ran and hid. They’ll understand that I’m safely cowering and not kidnapped.
Besides, my note covered that.
Benny looks like he wants to say something, but the girl at the counter calls his name twice, and he leaves to pick up our lunches.
I grab another handful of napkins and choose a table farthest away from the group who greeted Benny.
They call him over, so I pull out my phone to look busy, clearing the new notifications while he chats with the group, holding two red and white gingham boats of food.
“She’s staying in Colby’s place,” I hear him say.
A guy responds too quietly for me to hear. The wind picks up, carrying their voices in the wrong direction.
“No, not too long,” Benny says. “Just being neighborly.”
There’s another comment and more laughter. Benny extracts himself from the group and joins me.
“They seemed curious,” I say.
He pushes a boat of food in front of me. “We get a lot of tourists around here in the summer. The locals see more strangers on a daily basis than other locals.”
My hand freezes halfway to my mouth with a fry. That’s not how the Benny of ten years ago made Bodega Bay sound. “You always described this place like a sleepy little town.”
“It is.”
“But?” I press.
“But we’re on Highway One.” He cringes. “People pass through constantly. I should have picked up food and brought it back to you.”
Blonde hair flies in front of my face, and I drag it behind my ear. “Hey, as long as I don’t talk to them, I’m safe, right?”
“You’re pretty safe.” Benny eats a fry, sweeping his gaze over me in a way that makes my body hum.
I pour vinegar over the top of my fish and pinch off a bite. “So I guess you don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Not right now.” He laughs, popping another fry in his mouth. His eyes never leave my face. “Smooth.”
“I wouldn’t want to cause any issues,” I say, pretending it meant nothing I asked.
I guess I’m not really pretending. It did mean nothing. This man does not want me. He wants seclusion and a charming old house on the beach. He wants groups to greet him when he goes out for lunch but not swarm him or ask for ten million selfies. At least, I imagine that’s part of the appeal.
There’s a vast chasm between the lives we lead.
Benny was never comfortable with the mobs of girls who would wait outside for him everywhere he went. Now, he moves about freely. The group who’d spoken to him didn’t seem awed at all…they seemed like his friends.
“It must be nice not having to deal with fans all the time,” I say, feeling a weird urge in my stomach for that same freedom. I’ve never cared about the swarming fans before this week. It’s never mattered to me. I don’t mind signing things or taking selfies.
“It’s taken a while to get to this point.
To be honest, I don’t go out a lot, especially in the summer.
This is when we get the most tourist action, and some people still get excited when they recognize me.
But I’ve been away from the spotlight for so long, my aged face isn’t as immediately recognizable. ”
Aged? Like a fine wine, maybe.
A twinge of something flares within me at the thought of being able to move at will. Is it jealousy? Do I want this sleepy Nor Cal life?
Weird. “You were smart to get out when you did.”
Benny’s self-effacing smile is brief.
“What have you been doing all these years?” I ask. “You said you had a work meeting yesterday.”
He looks down at his lunch. “Real estate.”
“Ah.” I nod. That explains why he’s home in the middle of the day. “Helping families find their forever home?”
“More like managing my personal portfolio.” He clears his throat and takes a swig of his water. “I’d ask what you’ve been up to, but I saw the ads from your sold-out tour last year.”
There’s nothing to say to this. He’s right. Music has been my life for the last few years, and with the reality shows my family is constantly putting out, I don’t have a lot of secrets.
Well, I have one big one, but once the diss track goes live in two days, it won’t be a secret any longer.
That’s the end of the questioning. I dig in, pulling the perfectly fried fish to pieces. It’s crispy on the outside and fluffy on the inside. Benny’s right. It’s amazing.
We finish eating and walk down the path to the beach.
I kick off my shoes and leave them near a spongy-looking plant, then head for the water.
Benny’s hands are in his pockets. Wind whips my synthetic hair over my face, so I pull a scrunchy from my purse and tie it back in a low ponytail.
At least the wig clips are keeping it on.
Next shopping trip: get a hat.