Thirty-Six
SENIOR YEAR
I weave through the crowd amid the sound of thumping bass, bobbing balloons, thrusting hips, and flailing hands. Meredith stands in one corner talking animatedly to Tyrell and Jadie. But I don’t see Ben anywhere. It’s like he vanished into thin air, and it feels too much like the disappearing act he pulled the night of the blackout.
But as I’m about to turn around and scan the floor again, a hand grabs my wrist. I turn to find myself looking into Meredith’s eyes.
“He went out to the car,” she says. “To get my backup balloons.” She nods toward the door. “It’s okay if you want to follow him.” And even though verbal diarrhea is usually my MO in times of uncertainty, I can’t seem to do anything except stare alternately at her face and the spot where she’s touching me. She responds with the most affectionate eye roll I’ve ever seen. “Let me rephrase that. He’s parked near the gate to the football field. Now get your ass outside.”
I throw my arms around her neck and squeeze for a quick second. Then I turn and charge toward the door.
* * *
I see Ben before he sees me. He slams the car door, then props a box of decorations against his torso as he hits the remote lock. Slipping the keys into his pocket, he adjusts the box and starts toward the school. Until he spots me and stops in his tracks.
“You didn’t wait, did you?” he says.
“No. But I think maybe we’ve waited long enough.” I take a few steps toward him. He slides the box onto the roof of his car and leans against the door, jamming his hands into his pockets.
With the exception of the muted noise from inside, it’s quiet as I stop with only a few feet remaining between us.
“It was you that night. On the field, during the blackout. Wasn’t it?”
There’s a terrifying heartbeat when he doesn’t respond, and I’m afraid I’m wrong. But then his eyes meet mine, and all pretense falls away.
“It was me,” he says. “I kissed you. I don’t know what to say, except that my better judgment must’ve shorted out with the power. If you want to kick me in the nuts, you can.” He watches his shoe scuff against the asphalt. “I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out sooner. It’s not like it was the first time.”
“What are you talking about? You said yourself”—I pull the photo of him and me out of my dress—“we missed the first chance.”
Ben gawks, though I’m not sure if it’s at my answer or because I produced a picture from my side boob.
“You really don’t remember, do you?”
Something about the word “remember” makes goose bumps rise on my skin. There’s only one night that’s caused me to agonize over things I half recall. But the notion that there’s more, that Ben knows something I’ve blanked on entirely, is terrifying.
I swallow over the dryness in my throat. “Is this . . . about that night at the slushie stand?”
“You were right when you said everything started changing then, Mace. Only, nothing changed. Not the way I thought it would. And definitely not the way I wanted it to.” He taps a fist against the car door. “I’d been thinking about you way more than I should’ve for a while. And not thinking about Meredith the way I used to. But I didn’t know how to tell either one of you that I was having second thoughts about asking her to homecoming, or how to clue you in on what was going through my head. But then, that night, I didn’t think I had to. Because when I was helping you get changed out of your clothes, you kissed me.”
“I—I did?”
“You told me I was a good friend, and you said you owed my real head a kiss. Then you leaned up to kiss my cheek, I think, and you missed. Only, you didn’t stop. And it was . . . not friendlike at all.”
I cover my mouth with my hand. He might as well be telling me about someone else’s life, because I can’t recall a single second of this. All this time, I thought I’d gotten myself in trouble that night by saying or doing something I couldn’t remember. And I had. Just not the thing I was afraid of.
“You were asleep five seconds later, but I thought you felt the same way I did. That it wasn’t just about Meredith anymore,” he continues. “I was going to ask you to homecoming and everything. Only, I never got the chance, because Hargrove pulled the ultimate dick move and did it first even though he—” His lips tighten as he cuts himself off and looks at me with last year’s hurt still fresh in his eyes. “And you acted like nothing had even happened, anyway.”
“Ben.” His name comes out as a plea. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
“You never saw me when he was around. And even when he wasn’t, you only saw what you wanted to see.”
My heart plummets. I feel like I’ve had a blindfold ripped off my face, one I never even realized I was wearing.
“You knew back then, didn’t you? That Joel is gay.”
Ben kicks at a pebble on the asphalt. “He tried to kiss me while we were in the woods at Snow in Georgia.”
“Oh.” Well, that’s definitely new information. “Is that why you were so angry with him?”
Ben’s eyebrows pull together. “No. God, Mace, give me some credit. He was trashed, and he was so embarrassed when I pulled away that I felt awful. So I asked if I could tell him something about me that no one knew. That way we’d be even. And what I told him was how much I liked you. How I wanted to ask you to homecoming instead of Meredith, but I didn’t know how to do it without both of you hating me. And then he turned around and stabbed me in the back so he could keep using you as a cover.” The corners of his mouth turn down. “I was so mad. Mad that he’d use my secret against me even though I’d promised to keep his. Mad at you for being so oblivious. But then when he ducked out on you at homecoming, I felt guilty. Like I’d wished it on you or something.”
“That’s why you said you should’ve warned me.”
Ben nods. “And then when we danced, I thought that I hadn’t been wrong. That maybe something was there after all. But it’s like you said.” He slides his hands into his pockets and hunches his shoulders. “I missed my chance.”
Until he found another chance on a dark football field, and went for it. I want to ask him about that night. I want him to tell me what changed, why then. But there’s something else I want to do more.
With our picture still in hand, I close the remaining distance between us. My arms wind around his neck and one hand brushes against the softness of his hair, guiding him down so I can press my lips against his.
And the moment his mouth meets mine, I know. This was what I felt in the darkness. The same explosions of warmth zinging through my body like shooting stars. The familiar fit of our bodies. The taste of cinnamon and citrus that I tucked away somewhere in my subconscious, awakening into a craving.
I know you, I thought on the field that night.
And I was right. This is the kiss I’ve relived every time I’ve closed my eyes. Ben is the sunset I failed to notice for far too long.
When I pull away, we’re both breathing hard. “It was you,” I say. And then, because kissing him is so much better than not kissing him, I go in again. “But why?” I whisper against his lips. “What was different about that night?”
“I couldn’t take it anymore,” he says softly. “You and I were starting to get back on track, but I didn’t want to be just friends again. I wanted to tell you how I really felt. So I picked this out”—one of his hands leaves my waist to trace the locket at my collarbone—“and carried it around with me for, like, a week, trying to get up the nerve to give it to you. I planned to put that picture inside.” He indicates the one I’m holding. “But that felt, I don’t know, presumptuous. Like I expected you to feel the same way, even though I had no reason to think you did. So I put the Superman picture instead and told myself that I’d switch it out later, as a surprise. You know, if things . . . went well.”
“But?”
“But then I ended up not having to work, and I went to the game. I saw you looking at Jadie’s phone, and you seemed freaked out. So I checked out that picture page, and sure enough, there we were, staring back at me like everything was starting all over again. Like a bad omen, reminding me that I don’t exist to you when Hargrove is around.” He runs the tips of his fingers up and down my spine. “It took all of five seconds for me to back down. But then the lights went out, and somehow, there you were. And I had to do it. I had to know if part of you remembered.”
I close my eyes and press my face into his neck, bracing myself for what’s coming next.
“And the first thing you said afterward,” he continues in that tone that’s ripping my heart out, “was Joel’s name.”
“Ben.” His name comes out as a desperate apology. I place a kiss on his neck, squeezing him tight. “I didn’t know. I didn’t even think you were there.”
“Still. I was kind of hoping that part of you wanted it to be me. But when you said his name, I got flustered and took off. To make matters worse, I lost the necklace. And who finds it but freaking Joel, and then uses it to ask you to homecoming. Because why stop at one bad omen when you can have a whole collection?”
He snorts, and I cover his cheek with my hand. “Don’t be angry at Joel for that. He didn’t know the locket was yours when he gave it to me.”
“I know. But it felt like one more sign pointing to ‘Give up, Ben.’ ”
“Have you talked to him since?”
“Sort of. But I didn’t think we could be friends as long as he was going to keep using you. Or as long as you were willing to let him.”
I tuck the picture back into my dress and drop my clutch so I can hold his face with both hands. “I’ve spent a lot of time not seeing what was right in front of me. But if you let me”—I brush my lips against his—“I promise I’ll never miss another chance to kiss you again.”
Ben’s hand slides up the back of my neck and into my hair. Our lips meet, and then we’re completely wrapped up in each other, making up for all the kisses we’ve lost and wasted.
And right as I’m wishing this moment would never end, I hear something that brings it crashing to a halt.