Page 68 of This Changes Everything

Now I looked over at Ben inside the psychic’s blindingly white foyer-turned-office. Hannah’s energy changed beside me as we all waited to hear Ben’s reaction to the psychic’s reading. The rain was battering the windows, and Ben’s smile twisted.

“Sun and palm trees, huh?” Ben said to the psychic. “I think you’re holding the wrong hand for that one.” He tilted his head toward me. “That’s this pretty girl over here.”

The psychic opened her eyes and stared right through me into the back of my head. “No. It’s not her. She doesn’t belong in the sun.”

I nodded, widening my eyes even more, feeling unnerved. “Cool. Good to know. Thank you. Should we get going?” I stood and straightened my pants.

Hannah looked at me, concerned. “Sure. But you don’t want to—”

“Nope,” I said curtly.

Ben paid the psychic, and we all walked out. I regretted making things uncomfortable, and my friends could sense the tension. Lucas, Hannah, and Zoë walked ahead of Ben and me, all huddled under one umbrella.

“So . . . New York it is, since you don’t belong in the sun?” Ben fastened his lips together, holding back his teasing smile. I shoved him playfully, but he grabbed my waist and dropped the umbrella, soaking us. “Look at how beautiful you are in the rain.”

I smiled as he bent down to kiss me in the storm.

Later that night, I woke up at one in the morning to Ben, wearing pajama pants, digging through our fridge. He was dimly lit by the Grayrock sign through our terrible curtains. He pulled out corn on the cob leftovers and bit into the cob one-handed, like it was an apple.

“Seriously?” I mumbled from my side of the bed. “Cold corn on the cob? That’s your decision?”

Ben turned his head to me, with a cheeky smile. “Have you ever had cold corn on the cob? Delicious.” He took another bite. “Why are you awake right now?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the movie. Maybe the psychic. Maybe the corn. You pick.” I sat up and rested against the headboard.

“What are you thinking? What’s freaking you out?” Ben brought his corn with him to sit at the edge of our bed and hold the tops of my feet.

“I don’t know.” I adjusted my pillow.

“You don’t know what you’re thinking, or you don’t know what’s freaking you out?” Ben took another crunch.

I lifted one knee, hugging it to my body, then rested the side of my face on my knee. I looked at the vertical Grayrock sign through the crack between our curtains. “I don’t know . . .”

Ben stopped eating, stretched his body so he could reach the non-kitchen area, and put the corn down. He scooted up the bed and positioned himself in the exact way I was positioned, with his face on his knee, only he was looking at me. “It’s you and me, Ellie.”

“Yeah.” I matched the softness in his voice. My eyes lifted over his head to focus on Grayrock’s glowing red R.

“I’ll go,” he said quietly.

“What?” My eyes fell back down to Ben. He was looking at me intently, searching for something, but I wasn’t sure what.

“To LA. Once school is done. We’ll go.” Ben lifted his head, and I did the same, mirroring him, perfectly in sync with each other as we always had been.

“Ben, it’s okay.” I lifted my hand and gently stroked his cheek with my thumb. “You don’t have to say that. You’ve got a lot going on right now. If it didn’t work for you there, you’d always blame me, and you’d always wonder, What if ?”

Ben pulled me toward him, and we fell into each other like converging streams into a waterfall. He lifted my arms, and I left them in the air as he took off my tank top, never taking his eyes off mine. My hair cascaded back down over my body, and he kissed my collarbone, prickling my skin with goose bumps. I closed my eyes and felt every touch, every kiss, every movement as if I needed to remember it.

Once Ben had fallen asleep, I brought my computer onto my lap and googled flights to Los Angeles, wondering, What if ?

Chapter 25

LAS VEGAS 29 years old

HANNAH AND I WERE LYING UNDER THE COVERS IN BED TOGETHER, watching the day’s golf highlights. The rest of the girls were hitting up a couple of blackjack tables before they came back to the room to get ready for the concert. Rory’s face flashed across the screen. He was hitting a shot out from a bunker, and sand sprayed before him. His smile was wide. Steph Curry appeared to be making a joke at Rory’s expense. Rory looked lighter. Happier than he had been on the clips from the day before.

“Why can’t I let him go, Han? It’s been so long . . . Why can’t I let him go?” I asked as I watched Rory cross his lean but muscular arms, pushing his strong chest together. He had flipped his hat on backward and looked like he should have been posing for a picture rather than watching his teammate hit his ball. “I can’t let things go, and it’s ruined my life so many times.”

My sister turned to me. “What do you mean?”