Thirty
Two days later, I meet Ben at a coffee shop before work.
As far as bad ideas go, this one takes the cake. But he was insistent on meeting in person “to talk.” If he hates me, does he hate me enough to want to chew me out in a public setting? I’d hate me if I were him. I’m partially the reason he and Alice are no longer together.
He’s seated beside a window, warming his hands with a giant red mug. A latte with two pumps of vanilla and almond milk, most likely. He’s wearing a jean jacket over a gray sweatshirt, his right leg shaking underneath the table. His hair is shorter than it was the last time I saw him, and it’s styled with product. Of all the times I imagined his breakup with Alice, I never expected the reality. His eyes are clear and bright, no trace of dark circles underneath them. His clothes look perfectly pressed and washed. A smile even tugs the edge of his mouth when he spots me by the entrance.
Maybe he doesn’t hate me then. Odd.
Alice, the woman he was about to marry, left him three days ago. He should be a heartbroken mess of a man who can’t bear to leave the house. But there’s something about him that seems almost… unbothered.
“Hey.” I take the seat across from him. “Listen, Ben. I’m so sorry about Alice.”
“It’s not your fault.” His smile comes off strained even as he waves off my concern. But I don’t understand why he’d even bother, after that text. “Really, Marcela. Don’t blame yourself.”
“I don’t know how to do that.” I shake my head. “Are you…” I clear my throat to cover the stupid question I was about to ask him. “How are you?”
“Surprisingly, okay,” he says, and I’m not sure how I can believe that. “Maybe we just weren’t meant to be.”
“Meant to be or not doesn’t erase the eight years you guys spent together,” I say. “You shouldn’t be afraid to let yourself feel whatever you’re feeling about Alice—”
“Look, I really don’t want to talk about her,” he says, expression shuttering. There it is. A trace of how he really feels, right below the unbothered facade. “But the other day was a wake-up call, to say the least. It’s got me thinking about all the choices we made to get here, and I can’t—” He shakes his head. “I can’t fathom how it came to this.”
I don’t say anything, but my thoughts turn a hundred different ways.
“Do you ever wonder if we could’ve made it work?” he asks suddenly. “If we’d given ourselves a real shot?”
What the hell is even happening right now?
Is that the reason he asked to meet me? To ask me the question I’ve been asking myself for nearly a decade? Nine years. It took nine years, a drunk text, and his brother to
make him ask me that question. It’s too late. God, it should’ve been too late years ago.
“Do you?” I ask, because maybe I owe it to my past self to finally have the answer.
“Yeah,” he says. “Recently, yeah. I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”
How is it possible that I’m bone-tired and exhausted, but also that years’ worth of weight has been lifted off my shoulders at the same time? To be relieved and disappointed at the same time?
“Just recently?” I ask. “You hadn’t… thought about it at all before you and Alice broke up?”
“I mean”—he shifts in his seat—“I’ve never really had to. I thought being with Alice was the right choice. That we were perfect for each other, even if sometimes our relationship wasn’t,” he goes on, but I’ve already checked out. I have my answer, and it’s the least surprising conclusion.
I’m his second choice.
I’m the girl he sidelined for the better choice. Now that the better choice is gone, he’s got me all lined up and ready to go. But this isn’t all on him. It’s on me for ever giving him the idea that I’d be okay with this. There’s nothing left to be guilty over, but the shame remains. And oh, it burns me from the inside out.
“… but you were always there for me.” I’ve missed most of what he’s said, but I return my attention at this last part. “Anytime I needed you, you’ve always been there for me. No judgment, no complaint. You were always the person who stayed. And I know there were a lot of times when I took that for granted.” No kidding. “And I’m sorry for that. God, Marcela, I’m so unbelievably sorry for that. But know that words can’t express how much I appreciate you.” He reaches out his hand as if to grasp mine. He hesitates at the last moment, from whatever expression must be on my face. “What’s wrong? Was it—was what I said not okay?”
“I’m such an idiot.” The words burst free of their own volition. My eyes shut, because I can’t even bear to look at him for a second longer. “God, I’m a complete and total idiot. And you have no idea.”
“Marcela—”
“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.” Or maybe he does. Why now? I laugh humorlessly. “Years, Ben. Actual years, I’ve sat and waited for you to change your mind. And it never would’ve happened if I hadn’t fallen in love with your brother.”
There’s that word again. Love. And here I am for the second time, telling someone who isn’t Theo how I feel. But I can’t focus on that right now, or the utter astonishment on Ben’s face.
“That’s not the point.” I redirect my focus on Ben. On the anger brimming just below the surface. “But let’s go back in time and think about it. Why did you think we were better off as friends?”
“I don’t know,” he says, but there’s something in his face that makes me not believe him. “It was so long ago. But I knew you were someone I wanted in my life. The emotional connection we had back then, you don’t find that anywhere. It’s rare.”
“But it wasn’t enough.” At least, it wasn’t for him. “Why is that?”
“I guess I just didn’t see us that way at the time,” he says, and there it is. It almost doesn’t matter we were together that way for weeks. Why would it, when the whole time he didn’t see it? See me the same way I saw him? It’s the same coded shit I used to get all the time from guys I met on dating apps. I tricked myself into believing he was different from those men, that the connection we’d formed was stronger than that. That it actually meant something to both of us, even if we didn’t work out romantically. But the only reason we didn’t work is because he decided that we didn’t.
“You didn’t ‘see us that way,’” I repeat, practically spitting the words in an effort not to scream. “You mean you didn’t see me that way. Physically.”
“I was stupid,” he says. “I didn’t appreciate the connection we had at the time. I thought we worked better as friends.”
“You thought you could do better, but you wanted me around just in case,” I translate.
“You never said anything.” His face colors with embarrassment. I know I’m right on the mark because he can’t look me in the eyes anymore. “I thought you agreed with me.”
No, I never did tell him how I felt. Partly because I was too humiliated to have been so off base, and partly because I thought if I kept him in my life, he’d change his mind. I didn’t want closure, but I needed it. Desperately.
“Let me ask you something, then.” I straighten my shoulders. “How could you regret that we didn’t give it a fair shot if you were never attracted to me in the first place? Is this some kind of game to you, or are you just that scared to be alone?”
His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t answer.
“You kept me on the hook, leaned on me when you couldn’t lean on anyone else. And then, you got with Alice.” His shoulders lower the longer I keep talking. “You made me your second choice. I am so sick of waiting around for you, Ben. No one is worth waiting ten years for. Absolutely no one, and least of all you.”
He sits back in his seat, mouth falling open.
“I never meant to make you a second choice,” he says.
A wave of frustration crests over me. “Then why am I here?” I’m too mad to feel embarrassed when heads from the table next to us turn to stare. “Alice left you, and suddenly you want to reminisce about the past? What do you think you’re making me now? It’s too late, Ben.”
“Because of Theo.” His mouth twists. “Because you think you’re in love with him?”
“Yes, I’m in love with him,” I say. “He’s not at all the person you’ve been trying so hard to make him out to be. He’s kindhearted, open, and funny, and he’s always been up front with me from the very beginning.” He opens his mouth to cut me off, but I don’t let him. “Which is a hell of a lot more than I can say about you. He told me everything. About Alice, and his relationship with you, this weird animosity between you guys. I don’t entirely understand it or know if it can be fixed, but it’s fucked up.”
“If he really told you the truth, you’d know it wasn’t just me—it was both of us.” He stops himself before he can go on. Takes a breath. “I know I have my part of the blame. I never meant to hurt him, and I felt awful about it for months. But he wouldn’t even listen to me when I told him to slow it down.” My brows crease as he goes on. I thought he was talking about when he started dating Alice at first, but the last part doesn’t make any sense. “He wouldn’t even listen to the doctors when they warned him he could permanently damage his knee and have to retire a few years into his career.”
“Wait—”
“But that didn’t stop him from shutting me out and blaming me for it in the first place,” he says. “He thought I did it on purpose, to get back at him for all the teasing and shit talk.”
Theo’s torn ACL. He said it was from an old injury that never healed right—but he never told me that Ben was the cause of it. Alice isn’t the reason they stopped speaking. It all stems back to the injury. That’s the root of the crack in their relationship.
“I’d never do that,” Ben says. “It was an accident, but he’s never once let me live it down. It doesn’t matter how many times I apologize, he doesn’t care. Not as long as he can still blame me for taking everything from him at every turn.”
I don’t think that’s what Theo really blames him for. Not anymore, at least.
“I have to go.” I don’t care if there’s still unfinished business between us. I’m finished, and that’s all that matters. He calls me back when I dash across the coffee shop, but I don’t stop.
Ben has been the source of pain for all of us for too long. Theo’s NFL dreams, cut short. Alice’s career, stalled. My romantic relationships, a fucking joke. For the first time, I’m finally seeing him clearly. And I don’t like it one bit.
On Wednesday night, Theo is sitting on a bench outside the library. He never answered my text. I’ve been walking around in a fog all week, checking my phone every time it vibrates, waiting for a reply that never came.
Now he’s here, bundled in a brown coat and olive-green beanie, hands buried in his pockets for warmth. I’m so stunned to see him out here, I drop my lunch box. What’s dorkier than carrying around a lunch box? Dropping it at the sight of the rebound you’re still in love with. Even worse, when I bend down to pick it up, I’m so antsy that I accidentally kick it forward. The poor floral-print bag flies across the sidewalk and hits Theo’s leg. Just when I thought I couldn’t get any dorkier.
“Here.” He picks it up from the cement, then raises himself from the bench, immediately towering over me. I take the bag from his hand, wincing from embarrassment.
“I didn’t mean to scare you. I got your text, but I wanted to see you in person.” He blows out a breath, eyes shutting. “And to see if you heard—”
“I did,” I tell him. “Alice told me they broke up.”
I wonder who told him, Alice or Ben. Does he know my rogue text message is the reason? God, I hope not. I want to tell him myself, so it doesn’t sound like I betrayed him coming from someone else. But now that he’s here, and he knows Alice is single, I can’t help but fear he’s changed his mind about me.
“Yeah.” He nods. “So, I guess I was just wondering if that changes anything.” Those blue eyes study me, gauging anything in my expression that could give some sort of clue to the question he’s posed. I walk past him to the bench, setting my stuff down on the sidewalk as I take a seat. He returns to me, taking up the space beside me. His thigh touches mine lightly. I don’t pull away, but I almost want to. I can’t sort out my thoughts properly in his proximity.
It’s not Ben and Alice’s relationship ending that’s changed things for me. I’m partly the reason they’re over, and it’s because of a text I meant to send to Theo. I don’t feel a single thing about their breakup, but I have no idea how he feels.
“I don’t know,” I say, because I want to hear his answer first. “Does it change anything for you?”
Alice’s words keep repeating themselves in my head. There was a moment. I can’t stop thinking about what Theo would do if he knew. If he’d drop me in a second, just for the chance of re-creating that moment with Alice. He’s settled in a new job here, but are his feelings strong enough to follow her across the country? They were strong enough once for him to try to stop her from walking down the aisle, if I hadn’t intervened.
“Not really.” Theo shrugs. “I meant what I said to you. Alice was never going to see me that way, and even if she does—”
“What?” I interrupt. “Even if she does, what? Would you be with her instead?”
“She’s not the one I want.” There’s something in his tone that gives me pause. A fraught earnestness that makes me want to believe him. I want so desperately to believe him. His eyes soften as he looks at me, and I wonder how I look to him. If any trace of hope gives me away.
“I don’t know how long it takes to get over someone completely, if that ever really happens. But you’ve made these past few months…” He clears his throat. “Better than I ever could’ve imagined, given the circumstance.”
I understand what he means. He surprised me. Took my life by storm and tore through everything I thought I knew to be true. He became so much more than a rebound, long before he asked me for more. Now I can hardly imagine what my life would look like without him in it.
And that terrifies me.
“What about you?” he asks again. “If Ben feels the same way you do, would you…” He trails off, unable to complete the question. Maybe he doesn’t know about the drunken text after all. When I don’t answer right away, he turns away from me. “Right. Of course. I should’ve known, given how much he tried to keep us apart.”
“Theo—”
“No, don’t.” He whips up from the bench, pacing the length of the sidewalk. His voice doesn’t raise in anger. Instead, it’s carefully controlled. Resolute. “It was stupid of me to think I could change your mind. He’s clearly interested in you, and if you want to give him a shot, I can’t stop you. No matter how much I might want to, and believe me…” An emotion I can’t name bleeds through his tone suddenly. He kneels directly in front of me, the lamplight reflecting in his blue eyes. “I want to. But I don’t want to be the only one fighting for us. Especially if I’m not the one you want.”
His hands rest on my knees, warming through the fabric of my jeans. I reach out toward him, hands cupping his cold cheeks. I’ve gone so long without touching him that the second I do, I breathe a sigh of relief. Even now, with all my mixed-up emotions, this just feels right. It’s hard to tell who moves first, who kisses who first, only that the second our lips touch I melt into him. His hands move up my back, pulling me closer. I latch on to him, arms curling behind his neck. I lose myself in the warmth of his mouth, in the touch I’ve spent weeks craving. He’s what I want. I can’t deny that anymore.
He’s right. He shouldn’t be the only one fighting for us, but if we do this the fight won’t be over yet. Something tells me that nothing will test us more than Alice and Ben’s breakup. I want so badly to believe him when he says I’m the one he wants. That he won’t go running to Alice now that she’s free. That in time, I’ll be the only one who owns his heart the same way he’s the only one who owns mine.
“Marcela—” He sucks in a breath as I kiss down his neck. My nails graze his nape, fingers curling in the soft hair there. “I don’t think this is a— Fuck.”
His exclamation comes when my warm hand meets the bare skin of his stomach, roaming up his side. “Do you want me to stop?” His stubble tickles my lips as I ask the question against his jawline. We lock eyes for a beat, and I wait for him to take the out. I wouldn’t even blame him for it. He’s right. We shouldn’t be doing this now, not when we have nothing figured out.
He doesn’t take the out. He kisses me instead, and this time there’s urgency in our movements. His tongue slides against mine, searching, coaxing. My arms wrap around his neck as his hands settle on my waist, pulling me off the bench in one swift motion. I drown in him all over again, never once craving a breath of fresh air.