Page 30 of How We Loved

Ben

I know I should be happy for Maya, but the more I see that guy, the more something about him rubs me the wrong way. I enter my house, frustrated with the entire situation. Even the smell of my mom’s cooking doesn’t change my mood—which normally lifts me from the worst moods I’ve ever been in.

“Hi, baby,” Mom calls from the kitchen when she hears me enter the house.

“Hey,” is all I respond with in a dismissive tone.

I should have known giving her that kind of response would trigger her asking questions. She can always tell when things are wrong with me, and she’ll never hesitate to ask questions when I’m like this. So, I’m not surprised when she puts down whatever she was doing and heads toward me.

“How was your day?” she asks.

I sigh, knowing if I tell her what’s really going on, she’ll go down that rabbit hole of how Maya and I are supposed to be together. I’m not doing that with her right now, so I put on my happy face and change my tone.

“It was good. What are you cooking?” I ask as I walk into the kitchen.

Thankfully, she buys my act and goes right back to what she was doing. “I’m making that spaghetti sauce you like so much.”

My eyebrows rise. Maybe my mom’s food can still lift my mood. “And the meatballs too?”

She laughs. “Yes, the meatballs too.”

I try to stick my finger in the sauce to get a taste, but she swats my hand away.

“Stop that. Go wash your hands, then get your homework done so we can have an early dinner.”

I open my arms to give her a hug. “You’re the best,” I say.

“You just say that because I feed you all the time,” she teases.

“True. But I’m lucky to have you.” I reach around and swipe a taste of the sauce before running out of the kitchen.

“Benjamin,” she yells after me, making me laugh as I enter my room.

Placing my backpack on my desk, I take out my English book and sit back in my chair. Remembering what I was doing as Maya approached me after school, I grab my phone from my back pocket and swipe it on, then go to Instagram that still has Trevor’s page up. It took me forever to find it during English today. Our teacher had us watching a documentary, so I scrolled on my phone, doing my own form of research instead.

Not knowing his last name made it difficult, so I started with some guys I knew in Springstown from sports over the years and figured I could work my way through the process of elimination.

When I saw his profile, I knew it was him. The fucker is a bull rider, and his entire profile is just that. This proves this profile is just for show, and he doesn’t post anything about who he really is on here. He must want to go far with bull riding because this looks similar to any other athlete’s social media profiles I’ve ever seen—all business.

Knowing most guys have their look at me, Coach pages, hoping to help them get to the next level in their particular sport, with their real profiles hidden, I dig some more by going through his friends list and clicking from there to other profiles.

Yes, I’m wasting a ton of time, clicking through so many profiles that my head is going to spin, but this guy is with Maya right now, and I need some kind of knowledge about him so I know she’s safe when she’s with him.

When I finally find what I’m looking for, I see exactly what I expected. On my screen is another profile that shows the real him. His profile name is GotChaGirl Rider with a picture of him and a girl kissing his cheek.

I roll my eyes as I scroll through the photos he’s posted of himself with so many different girls that it makes me sick. This guy obviously thinks he’s a big player, and he doesn’t even try to hide it. There are tons of photos of him at parties with girls either draped on him or his arms around them. The more I scroll, the more my blood boils.

This guy is obviously an absolute toolbag.

I move the page back up to the first photo to see when it was posted. Last Sunday. Now, I’m even more pissed off. So, when Maya was with us, talking about the dreamy date she had the night before, this fucker was off doing who knows what with a blonde in a bandana as a halter top.

I swipe up the Instagram app and open the phone portion to call her. I fume even more when she doesn’t answer. She’s never acted like this. She must have turned her phone on silent again.

I’ve heard of people using that dumb Life360 app, where it literally tells everyone who you allow to follow you exactly where you are. I’ve always thought it was a total invasion of privacy, but now, I’m kicking myself for not setting it up. When she asked me to set it up a few years ago, I thought, Why? Anyone I want to be with is normally either with me already or I already know exactly where they are. Leighton River is a small-ass town, so why would we need to track people?

I send her a text.

We need to talk. I found some things that I don’t like about Trevor.

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