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But he has no obligation to do so and the same ability as Jasper to ask me.
Just because I find myself lusting after Ben doesn’t mean I need to silently follow along behind him as he revels over his ex’s art. I am perfectly capable of having fun with other people who want to spend time with me. Ben and I are friends. Jasper and I are friends. So, I let myself relax and even let out a laugh as I’m spun in an expert move before coming to a stop in the perfect position. Our hands are clasped together while my free one rests on Jasper’s shoulder, and his grips my hip.
“Think you can keep up?”
This guy has a rogue’s smile, meant to make both girls’ and boys’ hearts swell and break. Mine remains as it is, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Try me.”
9
BEN
Annabelle talks for a straight ten minutes, and I don’t pick up half of it. We’re in front of a beautiful figure painting, but all I see is Holly laughing while she stands in Jasper’s arms. Jasper is charming and funny, and even though I don’t swing that way, I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t one of the hottest guys I knew. So, I’m not surprised that she likes him.
That is exactly why I want to punch him in his douche-bag face.
He knows exactly how hung up on her I am. But what does he do the moment he sees her? Steals her away!
Holly would probably tear me a new one for saying someone is capable of stealing her. Probably say something along the lines of her not being a toy for boys to fight over. She’d want me to be honest with her, to tell her that I’d hoped we could spend the whole party together.
But what did my dumb ass do? I let my ex climb all over me and then abandoned the woman I really wanted to be with to my friend while I disappeared upstairs with said ex.
And we’ve been up here, going on fifteen minutes now. Holly probably thinks I have no interest in spending time with her. Maybe that I only invited her to make Annabelle jealous.
As my brain works through the idiocy that is me, I don’t notice at first that Annabelle has gone quiet. When I finish my brain cartwheels, I turn to find her gazing up at me with a content smile.
“I love watching you get lost in my work.”
Because I feel bad about tuning her out, I give her something. “You’ve switched up your brushstrokes. Gives the pieces more fluidity.”
She giggles and rolls her eyes. “Look at you, Ben. Trying to talk like an artist.”
Wow.
Yeah, I’m done with this.
Like I thought, she brought me up here just for the ego boost, not to have a real conversation about her work.
Annabelle creates beautiful paintings, but her self-centered way of thinking is one of the main reasons I broke things off with her.
The other was that she didn’t make my blood heat or my heart race, the way my dad had once described falling in love with Mom.
“I’m going to head back downstairs. Holly’s probably looking for me.”
“Wait.” Her grip on my arm is light but still feels intrusive, especially because she’s holding my left forearm, close to where I place the needles for my treatment. “Are you and Holly …”
The vagueness of her question grates on my nerves, but it’s also the fact that I know what she’s asking and can’t give the answer I want. Still, what we are and aren’t isn’t her business.
“I’m not sure why it matters.” That comes out a bit harsh, but she’s the one who decided to pry.
“Oh.”
So familiar. Instead of clarifying or apologizing for being intrusive or even coming back at me for my tone, she uses that one word. As Annabelle so often did in the past, she pairs it with downcast eyes and bowed shoulders.
In the beginning of our relationship, that word and pose would bring on a strong wave of guilt, and I’d spend hours doing my best to make up for upsetting her. I thought she was fragile, possibly hurt from a past experience and in need of some coddling. Then, when we spent time with her parents, I watched her use the same pose on her father while giving me a sly smile behind his back. That was when I realized how skilled she was at lying with her body when she wanted to get her way.
But I’m not her boyfriend. We’re not even friends really. So, I don’t need to put up with her manipulations.
