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That’s Marjorie’s problem. She micromanages to the point nothing is fun. From day one, she’s made this place miserable. A total fun sucker.
It’s exhausting.
And I’m worn out from my trip home.
Flying across the country is draining. Leaving someone behind who I didn’t want to leave behind is doubly exhausting.
I’m worn out and want to recuperate before class on Monday. But does Marjorie understand that?
No.
She snorts instant coffee and licks frogs or something. I don’t know how to explain the obscene amount of energy she brings to things.
If only she’d use that psychosis for something good.
I smile and nod a few times, holding in a snicker as her face grows redder. She’s almost at her boiling point, but I don’t have the energy to care.
All I can think about is Ben. The way he pressed me against the tree and fucked me. There was no hesitation. No worry about what the morning would bring.
The heat in my body instantly cools. Snuffed out by reality.
There was no worry about the morning because it was a onetime thing. An impassioned boiling point we had reached after months of book club chatting. I mean, we read steamy historical books. They’re hot. And we’re only human.
Of course we had to release some of that pent up energy the moment we were in the same state.
Do I wish Ben had stopped me when I told him I was leaving in the morning?
With all my heart.
Do I know that we’re both adults and I need to rein in my crazy crush I’ve had on him my entire life?
Unfortunately, also yes.
We shared a crazy hot moment. A memory I’ll secretly hold in my heart forever. I’ll use it to keep myself warm when I’m in a loveless marriage—if I ever make it that far.
Men don’t stick around. I know this all too well from watching my mother struggle after my father left the three of us high and dry once we were too much of a burden.
It’s better Ben let me walk away. It doesn’t make it hurt less, but maybe it would have hurt more if we had developed an even stronger connection.
“I can tell you’re not listening to me. You’re doing that thing where you smile even though I’m telling you about Mr. Rollo. I’m taking him to the vet to see if he has limited vision.” Marjorie’s nasally voice slices through my thoughts and I drag myself back to the present.
I fight the crushing urge to roll my eyes at her cat comment. She’s convinced Mr. Rollo only likes green toys, but I’ve conducted my own experiments and he’s happy to play with any toy I give him.
She never notices, though.
“I hope it all works out at the vet,” I say dutifully.
“Ah ha!” She jumps up, ripping the blanket off me. “You weren’t listening. I knew it.”
“Marjorie—”
“No, Phoebe. I’ve talked to the other girls and we really don’t think you’re pulling your weight with this party.”
Seeing red, I rip the blanket back onto me. I’ve planned ninety-nine percent of this ball. I’ve called the vendors, coordinated fundraising, and tried desperately to schedule dance lessons so everyone will know how to at least do the waltz. A cotillion at best.
It’s just like her to get on me about not having a date. I’ve tried for months to find one and everyone’s either not interested or already locked into a date with one of the more popular girls.
There’s an obvious answer nagging at the back of my mind. Ben loves Regency books. I bet he’d love to go to a ball.
