I don’t know what I want to hear.
I know you kissed me back last night.
That I did.
Why did you stop?
I watch my phone, but nothing appears on the screen. No bubbles, no words, nothing. Five minutes go by as I sit here, wondering what the hell he’s thinking about.
The anticipation is too much for me to handle, so I text again.
Ben?
What?
I laugh out loud at his response.
Really? What? That’s what you respond with?
He’s not getting out of answering my question, so I let a few seconds go by, then send it again.
Why did you stop?
Bubbles appear and disappear for ten minutes. Ten minutes of torture as I sit here, staring at my phone, wondering what the hell he’s thinking about. Until words appear on my screen that stop me in my tracks.
Because I couldn’t breathe.
I stare at his words, reliving that exact feeling over and over again. I felt the same way, but I took that as a good thing.
Why didn’t he?
I think about the story my dad told me last night. In relationships, there’s always one person who takes the relationship to the next level. Obviously, I’m the one who messed everything up, so I type out a response, close my eyes, and hit Send.
Come over after school.
My eyes are starting to burn from staring at my screen as I wait for any type of response from him, but nothing. I never see one bubble pop up or one word come across.
I can’t take it anymore, so I throw my phone down and curl back up on my couch, trying to go back to what I was watching, but I know there’s no way I can pay a lick of attention to it.
All I can think about is him. The years we’ve had together. The years I’ve pushed my feelings aside and kept him in this friend box. A box I felt was so sturdy that it could hold up the Statue of Liberty.
Until I went and screwed it up.
I think about what would have happened if I hadn’t met Trevor. Would Ben and I ever have even peeked in that box? Now, I feel like we’ve torn it open, and it will never hold any weight again.
But maybe I want to live in the box, exploring every aspect of it, instead of looking at it from afar.
A car comes up our driveway, and I assume it’s my dad home for lunch. I’m trying to think of what to say when he asks why I’m not at school, but then my door swings open, and Ben walks through.
We stare at each other for a few breaths, neither of us saying a word.
I’m too in shock to say something. I told him to come over, but I didn’t expect him to walk out of fourth period and come right now.
But here he is. Standing in my doorway, looking at me in a way that I’ve never seen before.
Something has changed between us now.
I see him differently.