“Oh, no?” he replies.
I start walking to the parking lot and hear him follow. No one is here, so I know he doesn’t care about being in his underwear. When we’re at his truck, I spin on him. “Do it then. You say you have no problem riding bare-assed in your truck, do it.”
“Uhh,” Ben says, looking at me like I’m from another planet. “You want me to?”
It’s my turn to laugh. “I know you won’t put your bare asshole on your truck seat, Ben. Tell me I’m wrong.”
He thinks about it, I can tell. In the end, I’m right. Ben jumps into the driver’s side scowling, wearing his boxer briefs.
I lean my head against the window and soak in the air conditioner blasting through the vents. “I’m always right. Don’t forget that,” I say.
Ben grumbles. And then says something magical. “You’re right.”
Chapter Seven
Ben
“You didn’t tell Harper about your plans?” Mom chirps from around her wine glass.
Harper glares at me from the other side of the table. We’re talking about Harper’s newest West Coast plans. Our parents are proud and excited to have her back in their lives on a more regular basis. From that, my own plans, I was hoping to keep secret, went on blast.
I take a bite of bread. Empty carbs. I never allow myself something so silly. My diet is stringent ninety-nine percent of the time. This weekend with Harper I’ve broken every single nutrition rule I typically abide by. Stuffing another bite in my mouth, I smile around the food. “No,” I say with my mouth full. “I haven’t gotten the chance and you know how things work. Nothing is for sure yet.”
Harper leans back in her chair and folds her pretty little arms across her chest, her tongue smoothing over her front teeth. “Tell us, Ben. What “maybe” plans?” I catch her intonation when she says maybe. She keeps things from me. Huge things, like serious boyfriends that she intends to move across the country with. Asshole boyfriends who swear at their girlfriends out of jealousy. “Go on,” Harper prompts, sipping her wine.
It’s nice outside. The sun is setting and her parents have a beautiful table out on the new deck. I shrug. “I was trying to switch coasts to…ahhh…be based over there.”
“To be closer to you, Harper,” Dad says, like he’s being fucking helpful.
I glare at him. He turns his eyes down to his plate. It’s like we’re all seven again when we’re together. I have to remind everyone we’re both competent adults.
“And for different job opportunities,” he adds.
Harper’s face changes. “Seriously? Why would you want to be over there?”
You. For you. For only you. I need you. To be close to you. For my sanity.
“Like Dad said, there’s other stuff I could do if I’m stationed on that coast. Who knows, I haven’t had to go overseas yet, so I might do that instead.”
“No,” everyone basically screams at once.
“I mean, don’t do that. I’m coming back here,” Harper says, leaning toward me, cutting everyone else off.
The news plays reels of our efforts in other countries. That’s where men like me go to die. America has been restored to some semblance of rule. Our democracy keeps things moving efficiently. The rest of the world didn’t fare as well after the attacks. Terrorist strongholds are harder to eradicate overseas. Our forces and troops are busy dealing with our issues. We haven’t had men or resources to help out other nations as much.
We’re just now trickling into European borders and I can’t even count on my fingers and toes the funerals I’ve been to since the infiltration began. Harper is still going on and on, listing all the reasons why I need to stay in the States. Most are selfish reasons, but she doesn’t realize it, and I wouldn’t expect her to, so I can’t fault her.
I hold out both hands. “I don’t have much say in it. Now that you’re coming back here with your boyfriend, you wouldn’t have to worry about me stealing any of your time.” I sound like a jealous boy, but I don’t really care. I don’t have to care with these people. They’re mine. They will always understand me, and us.
“You’re being dramatic. Harper will always have time for you,” Harper’s mom says, laying a hand on mine. I glance her way, and smile. Harpee resembles her mother more and more as the years pass. Most of the sweet and lovable qualities came from this woman. “Don’t say stuff like that. If you can help it, stay in the states, Benny. We don’t want you coming home in a body bag.”
I shudder. It’s not visible to anyone except Harper, who’s watching me like an evil, woman eagle.
“You two kids need to get together already and put us all out of this misery,” Dad says, laughing as he looks between us.
My mom hits him in the shoulder. “Harper is attached. Don’t say that,” she scolds.
“Yeah, Harper is attached. I should attach myself too. What do you guys think about that?” I meet them all face on, one by one. “Should I just fix all of this and find a girlfriend?” I ask, staring Harper in the eye.
