Chapter 11
brONWYN SCHOOL FOR THE ARTS WAS CLOSED DUE TO FLOODING.
We were expected to be out for a week, and I was deeply unsettled when Ben told me he was going to Boston for his birthday to catch some basketball with Lucas and some other guys from school.
I wondered if the thought of him leaving made me uncomfortable because it meant I would be living and sleeping alone, or if it was because it was him leaving.
I finished my Thursday evening shift at the production company.
Ben and I were to meet at the diner across the street from Grayrock, and I waited for him in the vinyl booth, slumped in my seat, eyes on the sticky table.
I didn’t notice he’d entered the diner until he had already sat down across from me.
“What are we having?” Ben shook his arms out of his jacket and grabbed the menu.
“Um, I don’t know, I haven’t looked yet.” I didn’t look up, lost in my own moment. “When’s Boston again?”
“Leaving the day after tomorrow. But I’ll be back when Hannah and Kara get here for our birthday thing.” He eyed me over the menu. “What’s up? Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Ben put the menu down and sat back in his seat. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” A tear slipped down my cheek, and I quickly pushed it away with the bottom of my palm, then ran my fingers through my hair. I picked up the menu, playing the part of “normal.”
“You’re crying.” Ben grabbed the menu from my hands and put it behind his back so I couldn’t reach it.
“I just had a bad day, okay? Justin’s an asshole.”
“Ellie. Stop it. What happened?”
I took a shaky inhale, another tear slipped, and Ben lifted from his seat and squeezed himself next to me. He pulled me in to his side.
I groaned. “I asked if he could introduce me to his agent. I gave him my two-year-old headshot and embarrassing résumé that only has, like, four commercials and body-double, stand-in shit on it. I felt like an idiot the entire time, but I did it.”
“Okay . . . ?” Ben waited for me to finish.
“He brought me into his office, closed the door, and told me to do push-ups.”
Ben’s head snapped back. “What?”
I took in a wobbly breath. “He said he didn’t believe that I wanted it enough.
Then he laughed and said, ‘Push-ups should do the trick.’ So I did push-ups inside his tiny fucking office as he leaned against his desk and counted loudly so everyone at the company could hear what I was doing.
I was just . . . on the ground, looking at his fucking feet.
” An uncontrollable sob escaped me. “I can’t believe I did it.
I hate him. I fucking hate him.” Another sob fell out.
“Fuck,” I said, gasping for air and wiping my face with my hands.
Saying it out loud made everything a bit more real, and I felt sick not just at what happened, but at admitting to myself and someone else what happened.
I don’t know what made me feel worse, holding it in or letting it out.
“Ellie, I don’t know what to say.” Ben held on to my shoulder as if I might float away. After a long moment, he stood up, taking me with him. He reached over the table and grabbed his coat. “Come on, let’s go home.”
He held my hand as we walked across the street. The red R in the Grayrock sign was blinking.
“Do you want to watch TV tonight and just eat chips?” he asked as we pushed our way through the revolving doors.
We moved the nightstand and pushed our beds together. We lay under the covers and watched absolutely nothing that mattered. I barely paid attention to the TV’s blue humming light. Ben put his arm around me, and I cuddled into his chest.
“You tired?” We had devoured a family-size bag of chips, Diet Cokes, and leftover Chinese food, and watched a couple of hours of television. We had already changed into our pajamas and brushed our teeth. It was past midnight.
“Yeah. Tired.” I pushed my head to the side so I was resting in the crook of his armpit.
“Do you want me to move the beds back?” Ben asked quietly. He had never asked that before. He always just did it, assuming our usual solo sleeping positions.
“Can we just stay like this tonight?” I answered.
“Of course.” He flicked the TV off and shuffled down his headboard to his pillow. I moved with him seamlessly and pressed my face into his body, breathing into his rib cage.
“You have to go back tomorrow,” he murmured softly. It was the first time either of us had mentioned the incident with Justin since the diner.
“I can’t.” I shifted my position, internally uncomfortable, and flipped over on my side.
He moved with me. It was as if we knew the same dance and he wasn’t going to let me dance alone.
He draped his arm over me and pulled my back into his chest and stomach.
His breathing was labored at first, but then we settled into each other and began breathing together.
“You didn’t do anything wrong . . .”
“I do everything wrong,” I replied, accidentally saying my thoughts aloud.
“Don’t say that. I promise you, that’s not true. He may be a man-child, and only like two years older than you, but he’s in a position of power. He’s your boss. He’s a fucking movie star, Ellie.”
“He wishes.” I choked.
“I can’t believe he bullied you like that. You’re an unpaid intern. I want to kill him.” Ben’s hold on me was tightening unintentionally.
“Please don’t kill him. I’ll get deported.” I sighed, and Ben laughed softly into my hair.
“You think I’m gonna let you get deported? I’ll marry you before that happens.” Ben tucked his face into my neck and then murmured, “I can go with you tomorrow, if you want. You can show him that he didn’t rattle you, and you’re not someone to fuck with.”
“But he did rattle me, and apparently I am someone to fuck with.” My chest started to fill with heaviness. I didn’t want to cry again.
“No, you’re not. You’re Ellie Fucking McCain. I watched you saw off your finger, and you took seventy-seventh place in the Women’s Long Drive when you were fourteen, goddamn it,” he said into the back of my head.
I let out a small laugh that sounded more like a wheeze. “Thirty-fifth place, you dick.”
Ben pulled me in harder, squeezed me tighter. I could feel his quiet smile form through his breath, warming my neck. “I can come with you if you want. I can be there for you,” he whispered. “Plus, I’m like . . . seven inches taller than that little fuck. He’ll hate me. It’ll be great.”
I didn’t answer Ben. Instead, I closed my eyes and eventually we both drifted off to sleep.
In the morning, Ben was still holding me.
I felt his body stiffen when he woke. After a moment, he slowly and gently moved closer to me from behind.
I shifted with him, revealing myself to be awake and very aware of our bodies pressing into each other.
An electric current rippled across the small spaces between us, invisible to the eye.
Ben’s breath was hot and shooting down my spine. I could hear his lips part as they brushed against the fine hairs on the back of my neck. He moved his fingers lightly down my arm until they reached my hand. We still hadn’t said a word, and yet we carefully intertwined our fingers.
I held my breath and adjusted my hips, pushing them back against Ben’s hardened body.
We were silently testing each other, challenging each other on how far we would go.
He brought his hand around to my front, where he gently slipped it beneath the hem of my shirt so his fingers could find my skin.
I inhaled at his light touch, hollowing out my stomach.
I was so instantly wide awake with his touch that I was practically buzzing.
Our movements were tentative but deliberate.
He spread his fingers across my stomach and pressed into me, guiding my body, and I rolled my hips into him.
He felt so good against me, it felt like I was melting into him.
Holy shit. What am I doing? Does he want this? He does, right? I can feel how much he wants this. Do I want this? Yes, I definitely want this.
I wondered if I should turn and face Ben. If I did, I knew it would be a clear signal and an invitation for more. Ben was my friend and my roommate. But what would more mean?
I second-guessed myself and stopped slowly writhing my body against him, with him, together.
Everything together. He stopped milliseconds after me, and I felt him tense.
I pushed myself away, giving us several inches of space, then turned to face him.
He kept his hand on me, letting it drag across my stomach to my hip as I turned.
His green eyes were focused, and I could see hesitation behind his concerned brow.
“Good morning,” I mumbled.
“Morning.” His smile was crestfallen.
“Um . . .” I let a small, nervous laugh slip through my nose. Ben watched me closely, waiting for my next move. “I’m . . . going back to the internship after school,” I decided to say.
“Yeah?” Ben rested his head up into his hand, leaning into his elbow.
Okay, we’re going to ignore the fact that we were rubbing up against each other just now. Cool. I can do that.
“Yeah. And I don’t need you to come with me.”
“I know you don’t, but can I anyway?” He moved his hand from my side and lightly brushed his finger against my arm hair.
“Ben . . .” I dropped my head to my arm, and Ben started playing with my hair, which was draped over the pillow.
“It’s you and me, Ellie.” Ben leaned down and lightly kissed my bare shoulder, surprising me. He was still testing me.
I lifted my head from my shoulder and found his face inches from mine. The last person I was an “us” with was Rory. Actually, no. I guess we were never an us. Not really. As Ben liked to remind me, Rory was never my boyfriend. Was Ben?