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He places his hand on my lower back and guides me through the cluster of strangers.
The kitchen is cute with white cabinets and colorful appliances. The counters are completely covered with food and what looks like the same amount of alcohol I have behind the bar at work. If I thought the artsy crowd was any less boozy than the frat crowd, I now know better.
“Don’t worry. There’s water in the fridge,” he says with utter surety.
I can’t help but note how familiar Ben seems with this place. The result is a slight twinge in my chest.
Could it be? No, please tell me I’m not … jealous.
Dagnabbit, that’s exactly it.
As Ben opens the refrigerator door, I lean back on a cabinet and try to sort through my feelings. I bring up a murky image of Annabelle in my mind, but I don’t feel any animosity toward her. So, what is it then?
Ben straightens, a water bottle in each hand and a triumphant smirk on his face.
That’s when it clarifies. I imagine him in my apartment. Right now, he’d be a stranger there, likely uncomfortable in the new setting. But I don’t want my place to be new to him. I want Ben to confidently walk through my front door and scrounge around my tiny kitchen, looking for a few drinks.
Why didn’t I invite him upstairs when he picked me up tonight?
Oh, yeah, because my vagina won’t stop insisting that I show Ben my bedroom, too.
As I watch him shut the door with his knee, a set of slim arms wraps around his waist from behind. Oddly, Ben’s face appears as shocked as mine feels as we meet eyes across the room.
Not knowing what else to do, I shrug and mouth, I don’t know who that is.
Expression still confused, he mouths back, Me either.
His lost look is so stark that I find myself giggling, hand covering my mouth, as if I can somehow hide my laughter from him. No deal. He narrows his eyes as he fights his own smile. That drops from his lips the second the girl circles around in front of him.
On her route, I catch a glimpse of a pretty face. Tan skin and angelic features with cascading waves of golden hair. She’s using a jeweled butterfly clip to hold some of it out of her eyes. I’m sure, if I stood next to her, she’d be a few inches taller than me, even with the heeled boots I have on tonight. And her statuesque, willowy figure is draped with an equally free-flowing white dress that seems like it’s constantly shifting in a subtle breeze. The whole look suggests a bohemian innocence, and I have no trouble imagining this girl painting with watercolors or displaying a piece of handcrafted pottery.
“Ben!” Even her voice is sweet and high, like the glittering chime of bells. “I didn’t think you’d make it!”
By her level of excitement at finding him here, I guess that this girl either is as infatuated with him as I’m trying not to be or she is the ex and wishes that weren’t the case.
“How’s it going, Annabelle?”
The ex it is.
This is one of those rare times when I have no idea what I should do. I tend to avoid these situations at all costs.
If I stay here, will Ben forget he brought me? If I walk over to them, will Ben be glad for the interruption or annoyed that I’m butting into their conversation?
If we’d been friends longer, I’d have a better read on him, like I do with Marcus and Terra.
I’m considering looking up the bus schedule on my phone, so I can leave and get to work early, but before I can take a step toward the door, someone calls out, “Holly!”
In a strange reflection of Ben’s experience, a strong set of arms wraps around my own waist. Luckily, I recognize the voice, so instead of stomping on his instep and turning for a swift knee to the groin, I reach behind me and give Jasper an awkward hug around the shoulders.
“Ben told me you might be here.”
When he lets me go, I turn to face him. It’s not even eight p.m., but Jasper has clearly had a few.
“Class got canceled ’cause the professor had the flu, so got my weekend started early.” He pulls a flask out of his back pocket and takes a long drag from it. “Figured I’d stop by here while you two were around and then go somewhere that actually has decent dance music.”
“You can’t dance to jazz? I’m disappointed in you, Jasper, and unimpressed.”
He responds to my joking tone with his own mock offense. “I can dance perfectly to any tune. I highly doubt any of these stuffy shirts are capable of keeping up with me.”
