Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 117357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
My life revolves around school, and when I’m finally free, I cram into a room I share with Kayla in a rental house near campus filled with other graduate students. It’s a nightmare situation, too many people and too few bathrooms. I never have privacy, Kayla loves chatting late into the night, and her side of the room is constantly messy. I never thought I would, but I actually miss that old trailer on Sheriff Corbin’s property. Sure, it had its faults, but it was quiet and all mine.
Saturday evening, I sit on my bed in my room with my back against the wall and my laptop propped in front of my crossed legs. I’m supposed to be working. Even now, a new email from a student tumbles into my inbox, demanding my attention, but I’m staring out the window, remembering. Recalling my time with Ben is more pain than pleasure, but still, I do it all the time. I dwell in memories more than I should, and even now, I can picture my moments with him all too well.
The night we lay in the back seat of his SUV, the air a warm blanket surrounding us, his hand between my thighs. Sometimes, it’s not the intimacy I crave the most, it’s the friendship. The tilt of his smile and the cut of his deep dimples as he sat across the counter at Dale’s watching me while I worked. God, I miss it.
I’ve been with someone else since him. One drunk night at a party here on campus, I let a friend of Ryan’s kiss me to see if maybe I’d been building Ben up in my mind. Maybe any guy would make me feel the same way he did: worshipped and admired, crazy with desire. Maybe I just needed to get back out there. Maybe I put too much emphasis on him. He was the first guy I had sex with, and it’s not out of the question that I might have latched onto him solely because of that.
At the party, Ryan’s friend was so eager, so wide-eyed and surprised when I let him lead me upstairs to his room. I had every intention of having sex with him, just ripping the Band-Aid off with a cute, simple guy and getting it over with. He laid me down on his bed, wedged his knee between my legs, and started kissing me. I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to push away the nagging doubts, and still, I couldn’t get into it. He tasted like cheap beer and his hands were too rough and too eager. He found the zipper on my jeans and I winced. He felt it and pulled back.
“Are you okay?” he asked me.
I was crying by then, and he could tell. There was no way for me to stem the flow.
“Shoot. God. I’m sorry.”
He was so nice and helped me sit up and straighten my shirt.
I bawled on the edge of his bed, and he just sat there and let me.
“I…I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
I shook my head, trying to assure him he hadn’t.
We’ve run into each other around campus a few times since then, and he’s always been extremely nice, if not slightly awkward.
Other than that night, I haven’t delved into any other relationships while back here in California. For the first while, it made sense. I told myself I needed time to heal and refocus my attention on school. I wanted to mourn Nan in peace, but thoughts of Ben were always there. Months slipped by and then a full year passed plus some, and now it just feels embarrassing. How long am I going to grieve a fleeting romance? How long am I going to pretend what we had was something worth this much heartache? It’s pathetic.
The doorknob jangles and Kayla curses. Then the door flies open and she spills inside, arms laden with her book bag, water bottle, sweater, textbooks, and a bright blue shopping bag. She shuffles over to her bed quickly and plops everything down before it all tumbles onto the floor. From the top of the pile, she plucks a t-shirt out of the shopping bag and tosses it over to my bed.
“Those things are everywhere. Some guy set up a table on Del Mar and they were going like hot cakes. I grabbed four. He was sold out of our size, but I’ll cut them and make them crop tops or something.”
I hold up the white t-shirt that’s meant to mimic a basketball jersey and laugh when I see it’s Ben’s number. Fate has a cruel sense of humor.
“What?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“I know it’s way too big but, like I said, I’ll fix them before tomorrow. They’ll be cute.”
Tomorrow.
I’ll see Ben in the flesh tomorrow.
Why does that make me feel so sick?