Chapter Twenty-Two
Who’s the Asshole Now, Ben?
Ben
Until a week ago he hadn’t even known Mallory Jones existed. Who would have believed that she could have done more damage than her sister? Blake might be totally whacked, but Mallory—she’d stolen his heart and kept it for herself.
He cast out his line and reeled it in slowly, watching the water ripple out behind his lure in a V. The lake was like a mirror today, no wind, not a cloud in the sky. He’d intended to take “Blake” fishing. He’d thought she would enjoy it. Who knows what she enjoyed though? Had she liked him even?
In a million years he couldn’t imagine why Mallory wanted to pretend to be Blake for the summer. At first, he thought she might have been pranking him, like switching identities was an elaborate trick to accomplish…that’s where it fell apart. What was the point? Maybe she actually liked him and everything had been real, but why lie?
It could probably go in the Guinness Book as the mindfuck of the century. He should see if there was a category. Even after all being lied to, here he was—missing her and hating her at the same time.
After he gave up on fishing, he grabbed his pole and went to look for George. He didn’t really feel like being alone with his thoughts. He kept thinking about all the pranks he’d pulled this summer and Mallory at the dance. She’d come to apologize. It was actually really brave.
He found George hanging out around the fire circle. Before joining him, Ben trotted up to the cabin and grabbed the revenge manual. Book in hand, he plopped down next to George on a tree stump. “Hey, George.”
“You look…less than happy,” George commented.
Ben dropped his head to his hands. “I’m a jerk. She was, too, but I started this one.” If you counted the orange hair dye prank, he threw the first punch this summer.
George nodded. “I’ve been trying to tell you that.”
“Yeah. I’m an idiot.” Ben sighed heavily. “I don’t know what to think, George. Do you think Mallory is even that into me?”
“You have been working out a lot,” George noted dryly.
Ben nodded. “It was probably all about my pecs. Really, though, could she have been that serious about the relationship? Why didn’t she just tell me the truth?”
“Maybe she sensed your trust issues. They’re sort of on the surface. Either way, you should ask her, not me.”
George was probably right. He usually was, but Ben was hung up on that issue—why didn’t she just tell him? He would have understood.
He picked Spite, Malice, and Revenge off his lap and chucked it into the remnants of the night’s bonfire along with all the notes he’d taken. Mallory was right. He was worse than Blake. Even though he knew better, he’d been horrible to her. Of course, she hadn’t been honest with him when he’d been intent on torturing her.
“Wasn’t that a library book?” asked George.
Ben made a dismissive gesture. George was obviously a better person than him, too.
Sitting and stewing, he looked up to see Blake approaching, her eyes tiger fierce and an attitude to match. She stopped a foot or so in front of him, put her hands on her hips, and barked out his name in a way that commanded he pay attention, or else.
“Ben.”
He wondered how he ever mistook Mallory for her sister. Except for the blonde Helen of Troy looks, they were complete opposites, like 180 degrees, purple versus orange, night versus day opposites.
“We need to talk.”
George’s eyes about popped out of his head at the sight of Blake. Ben had to admit, the girl did have presence. She was almost a little scary. They hadn’t talked since the dance. He hadn’t talked to either of them since the dance.
She announced, “I just want to be clear about something.”
He raised an eyebrow in question.
In know-it-all tone, she said, “Just to clarify, we’re not dating. I don’t want you to get any ideas.”
With a hybrid snort laugh, he said, “I know. I guess I should have been clearer, though. When I broke up with Mallory, I broke up with the whole Jones family.”
“Ha-ha, Ben.”
In a casual tone, he said, “Anyway, thanks for officially breaking up with me.” When she turned around to leave, he thought better of the situation. More sincerely, he told her, “I’m sorry about the revenge thing. Mallory took the brunt of it, but I’m sorry to you, too.”
“Thanks. Maybe you should tell Mallory that, though.” Before she turned around and left him to feel bad for himself, she said, “If you apologize, I bet she’d take you back.”
In a defensive reaction that George would call juvenile, Ben said, “How do you know I want her back?”
“Oh, please. You’ve been moping around like she pulled your heart out of your chest, stomped on it, and shoved it back in backward.”
“She’s right about that,” George said.
That seemed about accurate. “You really think she’d take me back?” he asked Blake.
“You broke her heart, but maybe.”
Ben stared after her. It almost sort of seemed like Blake had just given him her blessing to ask Mal out, like she was the Godfather or something. Well, she sort of was the Godfather. Maybe this meant she was going to stop messing with him, too. He could hope.
And he realized what was he doing: sitting around waiting until camp ended so he could go home and wait for life to return to normal. He didn’t want normal. He wanted to change a lot of things, but mostly, he wanted Mallory.
He’d had pretty much everything handed to him and he didn’t appreciate it. He just couldn’t see it before. He was so focused on being mad at everyone because he had to go to Bellevue (a fancy school that would probably help him get into a good college) that he couldn’t focus on the good stuff. Revenge and silly pranks never would have freed him of that resentment. George was so smart. He told him that on day one.
“You’ve been right all along, George. Do you think there’s any chance Mallory will take me back?”
“I don’t know. You’ll never know unless you ask.”
During free time, Ben went for a run up the South Paw Trail to clear his head. He just didn’t really know what to do in this situation—when you’d made out with a girl a few times but she’d used a false identity. Did you have to go back to square one when you started using real names or…? It was uncharted territory.
Whatever he did, he wanted to win her back. He’d never been happier than when he was with Mallory. He needed to take the risk and trust her. For him, that was like jumping out of a plane without a parachute. Mallory, though, was worth it.