16. Ben
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ben
BETTER THAN OUR DREAMS
Seven months earlier
I’m halfway through a soda and Leo retelling the time he set the kitchen on fire when something in the room shifts.
I look up and my lungs forget how to do their job.
Katy Montgomery.
For a second, my brain refuses to cooperate. Which is insane, because it’s Katy. She’s been Katy Cat my whole life. The girl who used to fall asleep on my shoulder during movie night.
But the woman standing in the middle of the bar—little black dress, high heels, confidence that sits easy on her shoulders—doesn’t match the memory I’ve been carrying around for three years.
She’s laughing with a group of guys from Harbor Point U’s football team. The team we just smoked a few hours ago. They’re a good team, just not as good as us. Three conference titles since I took the starting spot kind of cements that.
Then her eyes find mine, and everything stops.
Her smile falters for half a second. Like her brain needs a moment to catch up with what her eyes are telling her.
I don’t think. I don’t hesitate. I cross the room in three strides and scoop her clean off the floor before I can ask myself what the hell I’m doing.
She yelps, then laughs. It’s the same laugh it’s always been, bright and unguarded. And something in my chest cracks wide open at hearing it after so long.
“Holy shit,” I spin her once before setting her down. “It’s really you.” My hands stay at her waist a beat too long. Like if I let go too fast, she’ll disappear. “I can’t believe it,” I add, grinning like a complete idiot. “I’ve missed you.”
And I mean it. More than I realized. More than I’ve let myself think about.
“How are you?” I ask. “What are you doing here?”
She rolls her eyes, and I’m suddenly very aware of how close we’re standing. Of how different she feels under my hands. Like she belongs right there.
I drop my arms before I make it weird.
“I…I go here,” she says, still catching her breath. “To Harbor Point. You know, the team you just humiliated?”
“Of course you’re in college.” I shake my head in disbelief. “You’re an actual adult now.”
She laughs softly. “You’re ridiculous. You’re only one year older than me.”
Someone bumps into us, and I steady her without thinking, my hand firm at her lower back. The contact sends a jolt straight through me.
“Two years, remember? Not everyone is a genius like you. Some of us had to repeat kindergarten.”
She snorts. “Right. Congrats on the win today. You were amazing.”
“Thanks, Katy Cat. Sorry I had to smoke your guys. Were you there?” I ask. “Rooting for the wrong team, Katy Cat?”
“Of course I was there,” she says without hesitation. “But I’d never root against you. Well, I wouldn’t mean it, at least. I was supposed to cheer today, but I’m on light duty. Ankle thing.”
Something about the way she says it, so sure and automatic, hits me harder than it should.
Before I can overthink it, I nod toward the dance floor. “Good. Come on. Dance with me.”
“I don’t really…”
I take her hand anyway.
She lets me.
She always does.
The music is loud and bass-heavy, nothing like the playlists we used to blast in my car with the windows down. But it doesn’t matter. She moves easily with me, laughing when I spin her without warning, her hand warm in mine.
“You always do that,” she says.
“Do what?”
“Decide things for both of us.”
I grin. “You’ve never stopped me.”
And that’s when it hits me, how natural this feels. How easy. Like this version of us has always existed, just waiting for the timing to catch up.
Wyatt appears at the edge of the dance floor, eyebrows lifting, his expression sharp and knowing. Like he figured it out three minutes ago and is waiting for me to catch up.
I look away.
Katy doesn’t notice.
“Drink?” I ask. She nods and I grab her hand in mine.
I slide a drink toward her a minute later, watching the way she takes the first sip like it matters.
“This is kind of wild,” I say. “Seeing you like this.”
“Like what?”
“All grown up,” I admit. “You look… really good, Katy.”
Her cheeks warm.
So do mine.
“Thanks,” her voice quiet, almost shy. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
That does it. I beam. Full idiot grin.
We talk. About everything. About nothing. About people we still know and the ones we’ve lost track of. About games and classes and how life has a way of pulling you somewhere new when you’re not paying attention.
At one point, I lean in and say, softer, “I’m really glad I ran into you tonight.”
She looks up at me, eyes bright. “Me too.”
And that’s when I realize this isn’t harmless.
Something settles in my chest, not because this feels safe, but because it feels inevitable.
Like this moment isn’t a coincidence at all.
Like this was always going to happen.
KATY
I check my phone and pretend to be surprised by the time.
“Looks like my friends are ready to go. I should probably get going too, they drove me here,” I say, even though I don’t move.
Ben looks at me like that suggestion personally offends him.
“Oh no, I’m driving you.” His voice leaves no room for argument. “There’s zero chance I’m letting you leave with someone else.”
“It’s fine…”
“I know,” he cuts in easily. “But I’m still driving you.”
He turns to his giant friend. “I’m heading out. You good to Uber?”
The guy smirks. “Yeah. Go. I’ll survive.”
His kind brown eyes flick between us, knowing and amused, and suddenly I feel twelve years old and wildly transparent.
Ben doesn’t wait for my answer. He takes my hand like it’s always belonged there and gently, but decisively, pulls me toward the door.
“Come on,” he says. “Before I change my mind and kidnap you forever instead.”
Logan intercepts us. “Katy, do you need a ride?”
“I got her,” Ben says.
Logan crosses his arms. “I saw you drinking, QB.”
“I don’t drink. It was just soda,” Ben reassures him.
“It’s okay, Logan, I know him well. He really doesn’t drink.”
He raises his hands like he finally approves. “Text the group when you get home.”
“Fine,” I say, giving him a small smile.
Typical Logan. He’s basically the dad of our college friend group and takes keeping us alive very seriously.
Outside, the air is sharp and cold, but my cheeks are still warm. Ben opens the passenger door for me like it’s instinct. Like this is something he’s done a hundred times.
The second we pull away, “Opalite” by Taylor Swift starts playing, and of course he knows every word. In true Ben fashion, he sings at the top of his lungs. This man has never been embarrassed a day in his life.
“Oh my God,” I laugh. “I forgot you liked Taylor Swift.”
He scoffs. “I love her.”
And then we’re singing. Loud. Badly. Windows fogging, laughter spilling out of us until my cheeks hurt. I have to wipe tears from my eyes.
For a few minutes, it feels like nothing has changed.
Like the last three years were just… a pause.
He pulls up in front of my place and puts the car in park, but neither of us moves.
The silence stretches. Not awkward exactly, but heavy.
“I almost didn’t recognize you.” He’s still smiling like he’s a little stunned. “You look… different.”
“Good different?” I ask, my heart thudding.
“Very good different.” He smiles again. “Like I missed a few important chapters.”
Something warm flutters low in my stomach.
“Ben.” I hesitate, not sure what I’m about to say next.
He reaches for my hand, lifts it to his lips, then settles it in his lap, his thumb stroking the back of it.
My breath hitches.
He turns toward me fully, those light blue eyes undoing me. Then his hand comes up slowly, like he’s giving me time to stop him, and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
“You good?” he asks quietly.
I nod.
That’s all it takes.
He leans in just a little, like he’s testing gravity. I meet him halfway.
The kiss is soft at first. Curious. Like we’re both checking to see if this is really happening.
His hand rests at my jaw, steady and warm. My fingers curl into his jacket without thinking. The kiss deepens, not rushed, not desperate. Just full.
When we pull back, my forehead rests against his.
“Wow,” I breathe.
He laughs softly. “Yeah.”
I open my eyes and meet his. The question is already there, unspoken.
“Do you want to come in?” I ask.
“Katy...” He closes his eyes briefly.
“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says, looking torn.
My chest tightens. “Oh.”
Then, softer, honest, I blurt out, “I don’t want this to end.”
He goes still.
“I’ve missed you so much.” The words spill out before I can stop them. “I didn’t realize how much until tonight.”
His eyes darken, something tender and hungry flickering across his face.
“Katy,” he murmurs.
And then he kisses me again.
“Come inside,” I whisper against his lips. “Please. I’m not sixteen anymore.”
He pauses. Searches my face.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. And you promised you’d kiss me until I couldn’t breathe once it wasn’t illegal.”
Ben groans immediately. “Jesus, Katy. You were such a brat that night.”
I laugh. “You even pinky-promised, remember?”
“Of course I do. You were becoming a serious problem for me.”
“And you acted like I had the plague. It hurt my feelings.” I smirk. “Now you have to make up for it.”
“I was eighteen and you were sixteen,” he shoots back. “Also, your brother would’ve murdered me.”
I shrug. “True.”
His expression softens. “I liked you then too, you know. That was kind of the problem.”
“Then get out of the car and show me.”
He gets out first and walks around to open my door like it matters. Like I matter.
And as I lead him toward my front door, snow crunching beneath our feet, all I can think is how strange it is that something can feel this inevitable and this terrifying at the same time.
Like the world has shifted, and there’s no going back now.
Inside my room, the air changes.
His hands move over me slowly, reverently, like he’s discovering something precious. The kiss turns deeper, slower somehow even as it grows hungrier. His mouth coaxes mine open, unhurried, like he has all night to learn me.
Every touch feels startling and gentle all at once. When his fingers find the zipper of my dress, I freeze.
“Ben.”
He stops instantly. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” I say quickly, my voice shaking. “I just… I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never been with anyone before.”
His expression softens so completely it makes my throat ache.
“Hey,” he murmurs, brushing his forehead to mine. “That’s okay. We go slow. I’m an excellent teacher, remember?”
I giggle. And because it’s Ben, some of the fear loosens.
He reaches for the zipper again, slower this time. His hand trembles once before he steadies it.
“You’re nervous too?” I whisper.
He smiles against my mouth. “You have no idea. I want this to be perfect for you.”
The dress slips from my shoulders, and cool air kisses newly bare skin. His gaze follows it down, reverent. Like he can’t believe I’m real.
He checks in constantly after that, with his eyes, with the pause of his hands, with the way he gives me time to lean closer or pull back. When I choose closer, something raw and hungry breaks across his face.
I don’t feel exposed.
I don’t feel unsure.
I feel chosen.
“Katy,” he says again, voice lower now, grounding me. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “I want it to be you.”
He goes still for half a breath, like the words hit somewhere deep.
“Okay,” he says quietly.
He stays with me through every second of it. Through every breath. He kisses away a few tears. And when the pain subsides, when I’m shaking in his arms, he murmurs that it’s okay, that I’m amazing.
And I believe him. Because he always has.
Being with him like this—safe, seen, wanted—is more than I ever let myself hope for.
Better than my dreams.
The sound of footsteps pulls me out of sleep.
For a second, I don’t know where I am. Then I open my eyes and see Ben sitting on the edge of my bed, like this is any other morning.
Like last night didn’t rewrite something fundamental.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” he says quietly.
“Hey,” I murmur, still foggy, still warm.
He glances at me, something unreadable flickering across his face. Then he stands.
“I got you pancakes, they’re in the kitchen. And I grabbed you some Tylenol in case you’re feeling sore. I left it on your nightstand.”
I smile. “Thanks.”
“I have to get going. But… it was really good to see you, Katy.”
He hesitates, just enough for hope to sneak in.
“Take care of yourself, okay?”
The words land wrong. They feel too careful, too distant.
Take care of yourself.
“Oh,” I say, forcing a smile that feels brittle even to me. “Yeah. You too.”
He nods once, like that’s enough. Like everything is clear and settled.
I listen to his footsteps fade down the hall. The front door opens. Then closes.
And just like that, my room feels too quiet and cold.
My chest caves in, slow and brutal, as the truth settles where warmth used to be. Last night didn’t mean the same thing to him. I don’t mean the same to him.
And I lie there staring at the ceiling, wondering how I could be so stupid.