CHAPTER 5:
BEN
Ramen Noodles.
Who would ever eat that much ramen noodles? Only someone on a strict budget. I noticed several dozen packages of them in Lilly’s bags as I was bringing her stuff in and it made me wonder. Was her father’s death the only thing that brought her to Kill Devil Hills? It seemed like there might be a whole lot more going on beneath the surface with her.
A part of me wanted to question the ramen noodles and question her real reason for coming to live at the family's beach house, but it wasn't my business to pry. She hadn't pried and poked around at my festering, open wounds, aka the mess that was my life. Why should I do the same to her?
And then there was a completely different issue...
I liked her.
I liked her comfortable, quiet way. Her honesty and her straightforwardness. I especially liked how I didn't feel any pressure around her. I liked that she hadn't known the former me—the high school all-star athlete version of myself. Because, let's face it, that Ben died in the Pacific Ocean the night I'd almost drowned, and he was never coming back. I liked that we seemed to click, on some level, and a big part of me had wanted to stay at her house just now, to hang around and spend the day with her, to see where it might lead.
But I'd gotten out of there as fast as I could.
I knew these feelings for her were just testosterone. I hadn't had sex since before prison and before my time in Malibu. And she stirred something inside me that I hadn't felt in a very long time. It didn't help that she was fucking gorgeous—with her long, wavy red hair and creamy skin. I honestly don’t think I’d ever been more attracted to a person so soon after just meeting them.
But it was lust, plain and simple, and I recognized that.
And the last thing I’d let myself do was act on it. I'd be leaving North Carolina in three months’ time, as soon as my parole period was up, and I already had a plan to move out west. I didn't need to complicate things by starting something with the girl next door. I mean, there was no harm in being her friend. But I wouldn't let myself take it further than that.
Plus, no woman in her right mind would ever want my baggage, or be able to forgive the shitty events from my past. I couldn’t even forgive myself. So that was that. From now on, other than the weekly ride to the grocery store I had promised her, I’d be keeping my distance from Lilly Davenport.
Problem solved.
Inside the house, I went upstairs and found Mom in the kitchen, inhaling her lunch at the counter while she simultaneously typed away at her computer.
“Hi, Ben,” Mom said through a mouthful of sandwich. “Where were you?”
“Starbucks,” I said, wiggling my empty cup in the air as my proof before chucking it into the trash. Actually, I was glad she was here. Lilly was right. I needed to suck it up and work for my mom, at least until I paid off the money I owed my parents. “I gave it some thought, and I want to come work for you,” I told her. “If you still want me to.”
She stared at me in disbelief for several long moments, before gulping down her bite of food. “Okay...wow. Well, when do you want to start?”
“I don't care.” Something about what Lilly had said to me, her whole ‘drudging through the shit’ comment, made me want to do this. “Today? Right now. Whenever.”
“Okay,” Mom said, looking at me like I was an alien inhabiting her son’s body. “Let's start today. This will be fun.”
* * *
One week later and it was official…
I was officially my mom's errand boy.
Someone needs copies?
Ben's job.
Someone needs to call and schedule an appointment?
Where's Ben?
Someone needs to order lunch for the office?
Me, again.
It was cake work, so I couldn't complain, but in the grand scheme of life, it all felt so pointless. At least I was getting paid for it, though. In the past week, I'd clocked in almost forty hours. And, with the help of my mom, I already had enrolled in an online pre-license school. I needed sixty hours in that and then I'd be ready to take the exam to officially get my real estate license.
I saw the possibilities. This job was nowhere near what I once pictured for myself in life, but maybe when I had my real estate license it wouldn't be such bad work. Something to fill the time until I could move.
But none of that really mattered today. Because it was Saturday, my day to take Lilly to the grocery store, and it was all I could think about. It had been one week since I'd last seen her. I had, however, been making one of my siblings run leftovers over to her nightly. Mom always made extras, and I figured it was the least I could do, save her from having to eat those damn ramen noodles every night.
It was eight in the morning. I was dressed and staring at the clock, wondering how long I'd have to wait before I could go over there. I wasn't sure where this anxious excitement about seeing her was coming from. Sure, I found her attractive, but lots of women in this world were attractive.
My head kept screaming: seeing her again isn’t a big deal.
But the jitteriness I felt in my fingertips, the slight perspiration on my skin, and the extra rush of blood I felt pumping through my veins—these physical symptoms were all saying something completely opposite.
When I couldn't take the pressure squeezing on my chest a moment longer, I hopped off the couch and hurried downstairs.
I grabbed the Jeep keys off the hook as I rushed outside. It was considerably warmer today, no coat needed, sun beating down on me as I rushed across the path separating our houses.
I took the stairs to her front door two at a time.
“Calm the hell down,” I mumbled under my breath as I knocked on her door.
Almost immediately she opened the door.
“Hi, Ben.”
Her clear blue eyes were the first thing I noticed, dramatically contrasted against her red hair.
She was every bit as beautiful as I remembered. Her hair, and those eyes, those lips and that mouth—the sexiness she radiated was unnerving. Each time I was in her presence, I was noticing more and more what I liked about her. Today it was her lips. I was especially fixated on them. Wondering now what it might be like to kiss them, to feel what they felt like pressed against my lips. And her body…
I stopped my wandering mind before it could go any further.
This wasn’t good.
My infatuation with her only seemed to be growing. Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to this grocery store thing. Maybe I should have instead offered to let her borrow the car. Why go with her at all? She was an adult. She could drive and shop by herself.
“I feel like shit,” those beautifully full lips whispered and whatever I’d been thinking about two seconds earlier went forgotten.
She opened the door wider, inviting me to come in. I noticed she wore the exact same outfit from last week—same jeans, same sweatshirt.
What was up with that?
Did she have only the one outfit?
“I'm nauseated as fuck,” she went on and then dropped a few more choice words. Apparently when she didn't feel well she completely lost her filter. I found this other side sexy and edgy on her.
“What's wrong?” I asked as I came inside with her, up the stairs that led to the kitchen, her leading the way.
“I think I ate something weird.”
“Was it the potpie from last night?” I questioned, growing worried.
I hoped the food hadn’t been left out too long or something. Last night, I'd sent over leftover potpie with my youngest sister, Rose. We'd all eaten it and nobody at my house was sick.
“I don't think so. I'll be okay in a minute and then we can go to the store.” She leaned against the kitchen counter, her back to me, silky strands cascading down her back as she breathed in slowly.
“We don't have to go,” I told her, my hand reaching out. I was suddenly so damn tempted to brush her hair to the side, to run my hand over her shoulders, to comfort her, but I stopped myself before I dared to touch her. That was a boundary I wouldn't cross. “We can always go later or tomorrow if you want,” I added. “Or you could make me a list and I could go for you.”
Really. I'd do whatever she needed.
I just wanted her to sit down and relax for a moment.
“No,” she said firmly, already decided. “I’ll be okay. I just need one minute.” Without more of an explanation, she left the room, leaving me alone in the kitchen. Had I known her better I would have followed her. But instead I awkwardly stood there, pretending to look out the window.
Five minutes, maybe ten, slipped by.
Finally she returned. She seemed refreshed somehow. Actually, she'd put more makeup on. Black rimmed her eyes, turning them an even more vibrant shade of blue.
“Okay,” she breathed. “I’m much better now. Let’s go.”
Was she better? I couldn't tell. She'd stopped swearing like a sailor, so I took that as a good sign. But maybe she was just putting on a better front.
I said nothing as we left her house and walked for the Jeep.
Once inside the car, driving to Food Lion, I realized how little I knew about her. I didn't even know where the Davenports were originally from. Or why they'd stopped coming to their beach house. Or what her father had done for a living. Shit, I didn't even know how long ago he'd passed away, if the funeral had already happened, or if she'd missed it by being here. I didn't know anything. I couldn't ask either. Well, maybe I could have, but I didn't. She was already having a rough morning. I didn't want to make it worse by asking too many questions about painful stuff.
So I said nothing.
She surprised me by breaking the silence and talking first. “Why have you been sending your siblings over with food but you never come over yourself? And how many sisters do you have? Because I swear it's always a different one at my door.”
“Um. It's Ellie, then me, then Georgina, and then Rose is the youngest. And—” Oh, shit. There was no way around this part. “And the reason I haven't brought anything over myself is because I have a curfew. It's part of my parole. I have to check in at eight and then I can't leave the house. It's pretty ridiculous. I've got two and half more months of that. Then I'm free.”
“I see,” was her only answer.
Now my heart sped. I’d already revealed way too much about myself with her. Not only was I starting to crush on this girl, hard, but she also had some weird way of getting me to talk and share stuff I wasn’t comfortable sharing. Then again, everyone knew my business in this town—why should it matter if she did too?
We reached Food Lion.
The parking lot was practically empty. Still, undoubtedly, there was a good chance we’d run into someone I knew. I started mentally preparing myself for that. I was running over a prepared speech in my mind—the one I’d give to whomever I might possibly run into. It was the ‘no-I’m-not-dead-but-thanks-for-attending-my-funeral’ speech. That was when I realized neither of us had left the car yet.
The seconds were ticking by and still nobody moved.
I knew why I wasn’t moving.
Why wasn’t she?
“You okay?” I asked her.
She nodded, her eyes on the front doors of the grocery store.
Still we both remained frozen.
“Alright then,” she finally said. “I have not been honest with you at all.” She sighed loudly, running her fingers through her long hair, tugging at it. More of those choice swear words slipped out. Then more sighing. Then more cursing.
“Just say it,” I blurted out, unable to watch her in such agony. “I am not going to judge you. I promise.”
She stopped her hair pulling for a moment to turn in her seat and look at me. “So…my father’s death wasn’t the only thing that brought me to North Carolina. I’m pregnant. And I ran away from my fiancé. Who, by the way, was abusive and insane.”
She turned in her seat to face forward, the words still pouring out of her.
“He doesn’t know I’m here,” she continued. “I just left without telling him or anyone. Just literally got on a bus and rode it all the way here. And my paranoia is at a level ten right now. Like what if I go into Food Lion and there he is? Just waiting for me. Not to mention, my nausea is also at a ten right now. I don’t even know what to buy at the store because I can’t keep a fucking thing down. It was sweet of you to send over dinner every night. But I kid you not, I threw up everything. Everything! Shit—”
She stopped talking abruptly, pushed open her door, and jumped out. I followed, hurrying to open my door, and rushed around the car. I made it to the other side of the car just in time to see her throw up on the pavement. Christ. She wasn’t kidding.
Nothing much came up. I guess because she hadn’t been eating much.
“Sorry you had to see that,” she said, sniffling and standing back up. She wobbled a little as she moved away from where she’d thrown up and leaned against my car. Her nose and cheeks were red, her eyes now watery, and strands of her hair blowing all around in the wind.
The crazy part about all of this was—I still found her attractive. Maybe more so.
She’d lowered her walls, if only for a moment, and the woman I saw standing before me…was me. The girl version, mirror image of myself, from two years ago. Broken, confused, and lost. Obviously I wasn’t attracted to her being pregnant, or to her having a fiancé, but I couldn’t help but wonder: was this fate? My chance at redemption? The fact that she was pregnant made it feel like maybe this was exactly that.
And that was why, attraction or no attraction on my end, I could never, ever, date her. But I would help her. If it was the last thing I did, I would help her.
“Saltines,” I said.
“What?” she breathed.
“That’s what you should buy. You said you didn’t know what you should buy for the morning sickness. Saltines. And ginger ale soda. Or maybe popsicles might work.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know all this?”
“Well, my sister is pregnant too,” I told her. But that wasn’t the only reason. “And it’s going to be okay. I promise, it’s going to be okay.”
“You don’t really know that,” she argued.
“Yes, I do,” I countered.
She still stood there with her back against the car, studying me like some sort of rare wild animal. “Why are you being so nice to me? This is way beyond your neighborly duty here. I’m not sure if I feel comfortable with how nice you’re being to me.”
“Let’s just say, I have a lot in life to make up for. Maybe if I could help you, it would be a start back on the right path for me. And you remind me of myself, in a way. Desertion from the military, remember? You’re not the first person to run away.”
“Okay,” she said, with hesitation in her voice. I could tell she still wasn’t convinced that my motivations were pure. But I did, genuinely, honestly want to help this girl. “Okay,” she repeated. “I guess we could start with some saltines to try.”
So that was what we did.
The two of us went into the grocery store and bought saltines, ginger ale, and popsicles for her to try. And, thank God, I ran into no one I knew today.