I close my eyes. All this guilt. I didn’t do anything to feel guilty about and yet I feel it all the same. My heart is a traitor. “I’m so sorry, Marcus. We did have so much fun, though. My screen is cracked. I’ll take it in to get fixed today, so I may be unreachable for a while.” I listen to him breathing for a moment or two, then continue, “What are you up to today?”
“That’s all?” he asks after a few more silent seconds. For me, those seconds are loud and unbearable. What will he ask next? Can he see his imprint on my soul? Does he have that unquantifiable sense I don’t? I’m always a step behind, socially.
“Yeah. The concert was awesome. Then we came home and went to sleep.”
“Hmm,” Marcus replies. He doesn’t believe me. I want to scream out all of the truths. Ben is watching me over the rim of his drink. When I catch him looking, he looks away and pretends to be busy.
I yank on the hem of my short shorts self-consciously.
“I miss you, Harper. I know how much you like that band. I’m glad you got to see them while you were there. I, uh, wish I were the one who took you.” Jealousy. It seeps in enough even a dull wit like me can recognize it through a phone call.
“Maybe we can go together when they’re on the East Coast,” I offer. “I’d see them a million times. You spoke with Ben last night?” I edge, while he seems to be engulfed with missing me. Ben is banging a frying pan around on the stove. I cover the ear not holding a cell phone and glare in his direction.
“I did. He seems like a…nice guy.”
I breathe out a sigh of a relief. I didn’t hear what was said last night, mostly because I was drunk and in a candy haze, but Ben was upset after the conversation, so I couldn’t be sure.
“I won’t pretend to know your relationship with him because it seems complicated. I didn’t know that a male-female relationship could ever function platonically into adulthood, but I’m going to trust you, Harper. I’m an intelligent man. I know he’s in your life to stay. I hope I am, too.”
I smile. This is the charismatic man I fell in love with. “Of course you are. How was your last exam?” I ask. Flopping down onto the couch, I listen to his story about the exam and how he had to guess on the last question. I reassure him by giving a statistic on what his chances are of selecting the right answer. He laughs a little and as I lie back on the arm of the couch I find myself smiling at the ceiling.
I tell him about seeing my parents and although I wait for it, he doesn’t ask about my sleeping arrangement at Ben’s. I end the call with a good feeling about Marcus—all hesitation erased. I walk into the kitchen warily. “Over medium with toast?” I ask.
He clears his throat and nods. “Marcus makes you happy,” Ben says.
If he’d asked me this question ten minutes ago, I’d have a different answer, but I have to tell him the truth. Ben is a hero. He lives and breathes in a world that’s equal parts destroyed and perfect. I live in the perfect version, and he’s not my superhero. Ben can’t be. “I’m happy, Ben. I need to be a good girlfriend for him. Give him a chance, yeah?” I nudge him with my shoulder.
He shoulders me back, his bare arm sliding against mine. “You leave me no option. Now cook, Suzy homemaker. Man is hungry.”
“Oh, piss off, Benny,” I squawk, laughing at his stupid joke he knows will offend me. “I’ll poison your food.”
“Tahoe is on his way over to pick up my bag.”
I crack a couple eggs on the side of the pan and listen to the fizzle and pops. “He reminds me of Arnold Schwarzenegger in that movie where half of his face is a robot. He’s scary.”
Ben laughs, tells me to flip the eggs because he’s micromanaging, and says, “Tahoe is solid. A lot of these guys have been doing this job for such a long time. They teach me a lot. They were SEALs before the attack. Can you imagine? Just normal SEALs.”
I laugh. “As opposed to what? Hybrid SEALs?”
He sighs. “Nah. Just less…risk.” At the tenor of his voice, I turn to face him.
I raise one brow. “How much risk are you in on a normal work day, exactly?”
He cranes his neck to look at the eggs in the pan. “Less risk than those poor eggs are currently enduring.”
Rolling my eyes, I scoop the eggs out and onto a waiting plate, but I can’t shake the uneasy feeling. “Seriously. Be honest with me.”
“Ah. Ah. Ah. We’re not completely honest with each other anymore. Remember?”
“Touché. Fair point, but I need to know how much danger you’re in. For my own sanity.”
The doorbell rings and Ben escapes my glare. Tahoe ambles in, his large frame hiding the sunlight. “What’s for breakfast?” he quips, flicking his gaze my way.
“Eggs?” I ask, holding up Ben’s plate.
“No, that’s mine!” Ben says, reaching over the counter to take the plate from my hands. “I’ll cook you something if you want, man,” Ben says, nodding at Tahoe.
“Nah. I’m going to meet a girl at Hash House,” he replies, a predatory smile stretching across his face. “What are you two kids getting up to today?”
