Page 49 of Stuck With the Best Man

Ben is a lot faster in the shower than I was. Only a few minutes pass before the water shuts off in the bathroom. I fidget on the bed. Soon enough, we’ll be tucked away in our respective beds, so vulnerable in our sleeping states next to each other. I don’t know why the thought makes me nervous. Maybe it boils down to the simple fact that, given my limited dating history, I’m not used to sleeping in the same room as other people. Maybe I’m just being a total freak about this entire thing.

When Ben steps out of the bathroom, my stomach swoops at the sight of him. His dark hair is damp and curling at the edges, and even though he’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, the way the clothing fits his tall, slender frame makes me feel kind of lightheaded. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. There’s just something about him. Something undefinable.

Ben seems not to notice the fact that my brain has turned into useless sludge. He tosses his dirty clothes on top of his suitcase and then sits down on the edge of the cot. It creaks menacingly, causing both of us to flinch.

He grabs a packet of peanut M&Ms from the treasure trove and nods his chin toward the television.

“The Devil Wears Prada?” he asks.

A breath of laughter wheezes out of me. “You know this movie?”

“Duh. Who doesn’t know this movie?”

I roll my eyes. “I just didn’t think a guy like you would be into rom coms.”

“A guy like me?”

“I don’t know… rich and worldly.”

Ben chuckled. “I’m financially privileged and well-traveled, but I wouldn’t go so far as to call myselfworldly. My travels involve posh hotels and fancy resorts and exclusive nightclubs. I’m not exactly absorbing the culture. Honestly, my old habits aren’t really something I’m proud of.”

A part of me admires him for being able to admit that. It’s so rare for someone to understand their faultsandwillingly expose them to another person. It’s hard for me to reconcile this version of Ben with the younger one that apparently partied around the world, but I guess he does look the part of a spoiled prince.

“Is that how you met Sebastien?” I ask.

There’s a light dancing in his gold-flecked eyes, as if he’s amused that I’m asking questions about him. I don’t really know why I’m doing it. I could just shut up and watch Anne Hathaway follow her New York dreams on the television screen.

“I met Sebastien at a modeling gig when I was twenty. He was just the photographer’s intern at that point. It’s how Eva and I have a lot of friends in common too.”

“Is that why you asked me if I was a model when Eva introduced us at the rehearsal dinner?”

Ben smiles sheepishly. “I forgot about that. Sorry. I really feel like an idiot for not recognizing you right away.”

I shrug. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault you got a head injury when you were a kid.”

“Technically, it is my fault. I’m the fool who thought it was a good idea to roller skate inside the house.”

“I think both you and the nanny can shoulder the blame together, then.”

He chuckles. For a moment, we fall into silence. He’s still perched awkwardly on the edge of his cot. It’s not exactly the sort of thing that you can rest on comfortably unless you’re completely reclined.

Biting my lip, I pat the opposite side of the bed. “You can sit for a while, if you want. While we watch the movie.”

“You’re sure?”

I nod. It’s a king bed, after all. There’s plenty of space for the two of us to sit here as polite acquaintances.

Ben sinks down onto the far side of the mattress, leaving about two feet between us. On the screen, Emily Blunt’s character says something snobby yet funny to Anne Hathaway’s character. We laugh quietly.

“You can hardly blame me, though,” Ben says after a while.

I glance over at him in confusion. “Huh?”

“The model thing,” he clarifies. “I mean, you’re tall and graceful and beautiful… my assumption makes sense.”

I am tall and graceful, yes. Tall by the mere luck of genetics and graceful only because I’ve trained my body to be that way.

But beautiful? I know that, technically, I have features that many people would consider pretty. Blonde hair, blue eyes. A reasonably symmetric face. Yet, my body is also lean where most might prefer there to be curves, and my joints pop with almost every movement I make.

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