My jaw goes slack as I stare at his fond smile. Why is he so fucking nice? I bet it looks like I’m doing hearty eyes at him… which wouldn’t be far from the truth. My ex didn’t cook for me, let alone care to make enough so I have food for the next day.
I wanna scream. But also hug Ben. And shake some sense into myself for getting so carried away. But he makes it so fucking easy, for no reason. Like, seriously, who does this kind of shit for a hookup? Or… Is he just being friendly? Friend-zoning me because he’s come to his senses and decided he wants nothing to do with his best friend’s little brother?
I fist the edge of the tablecloth, trying not to scowl. “I’m done, thanks. It was amazing.”
“I’m glad you liked it.” He picks up my plate as well and then washes both.
Oh my god, please stop. This is way too domestic for my frantic heart.
“I, uh,” he says sheepishly, opening the fridge and producing two of my small mason jars that are now filled with something brown. “I found one of those chocolate pudding sachets and you had some milk, so I made dessert, too.” He plops it in front of me, another bout of wonder and nerves and contentment surging through me. “Didn’t have much to garnish it with, but I improvised. If we do that movie, we can grab more ice cream or something.”
God have mercy. Or better yet—just kill me already and end my delightful misery. Ben’s used crushed peanuts or cashews—Ido remember having a packet lying about—to draw the insignia ofOne, my favorite General-Commander from RS.
I swallow a big scoop of chocolate goodness and close my eyes. My chest feels too tight, my skin tingling with pleasure. It’s not the sexual kind; it’s the one that you get when an important person shows they care about you in exactly the way you needed them to.
And I just can’t have that. Maybe old Charlie could—the one who believed in fairytale love and charming princes—but new Charlie? He needs to put a stop to thispronto, because his resolve to be badass and need no man is wearing really thin.
“Listen,” I start, chewing the inside of my cheek as I try to organize my thoughts.
I need to end this. I was a fool to think I can just be friends-with-benefits with Ben. My crush is majorly resurfacing, and worse yet, his behavior is only fueling it further. Mr. Perfect needs to go back to wherever he crawled out from before I completely fall for his irresistible charm and end up with a broken heart when he ultimately decides he’s done pretending he’s interested in me.
His thick brows slant, the green of his eyes stirring with a hint of concern. “Or we can stay in, if you prefer? I just thought the alien invasion horror movie that just came out might be to your liking. If I remember correctly, you used to love that stuff.” He sits back in the chair across from me, lacing his hands on top of the table. “But I can probably find it online…”
My heart pounds in my ears.Shit, he remembers even that?I’m dead.
“Um, actually, I think it’s not a good idea for us to hang—”
My phone rings, startling me so hard I jump from the chair. I usually have it on silent, for this exact reason, but I left the volume on because I might or might not have wanted to makesure I didn’t miss Ben’s call so I could buzz the door to the building open for him.
I look at the screen. It’s Trish.
“Hey, what’s up?” I say, shaking my head when Ben makes to stand up and give me some space.
There is a pause. Trish doesn’t do pauses, so the uncharacteristic start to our conversation immediately puts me on alert. “Trish? Is everything okay? Please don’t tell me something happened to Greg, and he ended up in a coma.”
“Jesus, Charlie. You’ve got some wild imagination! I’m fine!” Greg shouts into the phone from somewhere in the background, a trace of amusement palpable in his voice. But there is also a slight note of concern, which only serves to make the worry within me spike.
“Then what is it? Just spill it out. This is flaring my anxiety.”
Trish sighs. “Okay, so. But don’t freak out, okay?”
“Okay…”
She sucks in a deep breath, as if whatever news she is about to tell me can be worse than one of my two best friends ending up in a hospital. The suspense is killing me.
“Trish. Just spit it out!”
“Okay. I guess you haven’t seen it yet…” She sighs again. “There’s been another post and… It’s not good.”
“Another post?” I blanch, my brain working overtime to catch up. Chills run down my spine, forcing a sudden alertness through my entire body. Ben seems to catch onto it, his pretty eyes narrowing in concern. “Do you mean by… Andy?”
“Yes. It’s, uh, the video from that one time you got completely smashed.”
I cringe. I don’t remember much from that party, but I’ve watched the video before I personally deleted it from Andy’s phone. It really doesn’t paint me in a good light. It’s mostlyme screaming, shouting and going around butt-naked like some lunatic who’s gotten too high.
“But I deleted it!” I argue in terror.
While I don’t particularly care what people think about me, it’s important that I maintain an inoffensive image. I have sponsors and a growing fanbase, so getting stuff dug up that I’d like to keep buried is the last thing I need. It was also a onetime occurrence, something that happened to me because Andy dragged me to a stupid party and forced me to drink with his dumb chad friends.
