Page 26 of This Changes Everything

“Here and there and everywhere?”

“Alright, that’s enough of that.”

“I wanna read!” Ben whined and dropped his fork with a clang.

“You want to read my diaries?” I cackled. “You’re an idiot. Yeah, okay. Sure there, bud. Let’s go read my diaries,” I said mockingly.

“Oh, come on. How bad can it be?” He poured himself another glass of wine.

“Oh, it can be pretty bad, Ben.” I held out my glass for a top-up as well.

“I’m reading them,” he teased as he filled my glass, his eyes dancing all over mine.

“No, you’re not.” I accepted his staring contest and dug in deep, furrowing my brow.

“Yes, I am.” He imitated my faux-serious expression.

“No. You’re not.”

“Yes. I am.” He was so confident it killed me.

“No, Ben. You’re not.”

An hour later, Ben was five diaries deep. He sat on the edge of his bed and was howling, clutching his chest every other page. A surprising shock wave of thrill shot up my spine every time he looked at me, appalled, bewildered, or in awe at the ridiculousness laid bare in my diaries.

After reading one entry, Ben looked over at the bottom of my bed, where all our bedside table items had been discarded. “Interesting . . .” I could tell he was slightly alarmed but still eager for more.

“What?” I threw my head back onto my martini fish pillow.

Ben stretched over my bed to pick up my lucky golf ball. “Is this the ball you swiped from the Long Drive competition?”

“I don’t want to say yes, but yes?” I pinched my face together and closed my eyes.

“Hmm,” he hummed curiously and continued reading. I fiddled with my rose gold bracelet nervously. After a few minutes of chuckling through his nose, he eventually tossed his head back with tightly shut eyes and started snorting, attempting to prevent himself from letting out a bigger laugh.

I had to ask. “What now?”

“You’re so mad at your sister because she got a Christmas present from Blair, and you got nothing from Rory. You eviscerate her.”

“She didn’t even like Blair! It still makes me mad.” I pretended to be angry.

“You wrote a poem about cupcake earmuffs. You said it was an affront, then called her a cunt.”

“I DID?!” I roared, then pulled my pillow out from under my head and threw it over my face.

“I like reading your stuff, Ellie. You’re good at this. Your short stories are good, too. Why didn’t you go for Bronwyn’s writing program?”

“Well, loads of reasons,” I scoffed. “First, I’m an actor. But also, the writing program is four years.”

Ben nodded absent-mindedly, his eyes still on the page. “You’re a writer, too, you know. Maybe we could write together sometime. Like, a play or something.” Ben put the diary down. “Didn’t you write one of your monologues for your audition? I don’t think anyone else did that.”

“Who knows,” I sighed. “But yeah, I was a horny Humpty Dumpty. It was dumb.”

Ben’s smile was wide. “Must not have been that dumb. It got you here.”

“I’ve never let anyone read my stuff before, not on purpose. Hannah and Kara have snooped once or twice, but I don’t share this side of myself with people,” I admitted.

Our eyes connected, and after a beat, he picked the diary back up. “Thank you for trusting me.”