Page 72 of Every Broken Thing

Ugh, I was too hungover for this.

Back downstairs, Ben was waiting by the door, my jacket already in his hand.

“Did you stay the night?” I asked as I shoved my feet into my shoes.

“Uh, no. Why?”

“My pillow smells like you,” I said before my hungover brain could stop it. I froze in tying my shoes. “I mean, not that I spend time smelling you. I just mean—”

“Oh yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Um, no, that’s because I was, uh, there—well, you see, you asked me—and then we kind of—”

I stood abruptly, practically shouting, “What?”

Ben startled, taking a step back. “What?” he echoed, though it was far less unhinged than mine.

“We—wait.” I held up a hand, my brain struggling tobrain. “You don’t mean—” I barked a manic laugh. “We didn’t, like… uh…”

It clicked, and Ben paled, then flushed. “No! God, no. We didn’t—I wouldneverdo that!”

And oh, I was not expecting his passionate denial to hurt that much. But of course, he’d never… because it wasn’t like that. Not for him. Obviously.

“Of course,” I blurted before he could say anything else to drive the knife deeper. “No, that’s not even what I meant because that would be so fucked up. Like”—I gestured between us—“obviously that would never happen. ’Cause that would be fucking weird.”

I bit my tongue to shut myself up, and for a moment, Ben almost looked hurt. But it was gone the moment I blinked, and I knew I’d imagined it.

“We need to go,” I said, grabbing my jacket out of his hand and shrugging it on. “Before my dad gets back.”

“Right.” Ben ran a hand through his hair and opened the front door. “Yeah, let’s go get your truck.”

He’d parked across the street, and I jogged after him, taking the passenger side as he opened the driver’s door and folded himself inside. His car smelled like him, like spring soap and spearmint. Like my pillow.

He opened the center console and retrieved a pack of gum. Spearmint, of course. He offered me a piece without meeting my eyes, and I took it, mumbling a thank-you.

As he pulled away from the curb, I slumped low in my chair and stared out the window. Awkwardness permeated the cab until I was willing to consider the possible benefits of throwing myself out of the moving car altogether. Before I could, the car rolled to a stop at a red light, and I jumped in my seat as Ben’s hand landed on my arm.

I turned toward him, startling at the emotion swirling through his eyes. We gazed at each other for a long moment, neither of us knowing what to say or how to say it. His fingers pressed into my arm through my jacket, and I carefully blanketed the back of his hand with mine. After his vehement denials, I half-expected him to snatch his hand back or shove me away. He did neither. I squeezed his hand, and when his eyes softened, the knots in my stomach loosened.

A car honk startled both of us, and I dropped his hand, facing the front where the light had turned green. Ben released a heavy breath through his nose as he rolled through the intersection, and the soft moment between us hardened once more.

“So,” I said a few minutes later, unable to stomach the silence for another second, “are you and Alice, like, a thing now?”

Jerking the wheel hard enough to make the tires squeal, Ben screeched into a gas station parking lot and slammed on the brakes, making me brace myself on the dash to ensure I didn’t smash my face on it.

“What the fuck?” I cried, rearing back as Ben rounded on me, his expression mutinous.

“No, Silas, Alice and I aren’t a thing. We never have been, and we never will be, okay?” He leaned on the center console, jabbing at the air between us. “You saw her kiss me last night, but you didn’t stick around to see me tell her no. And instead of coming to me and asking like a normal person, you got shitfaced and forgot everything that we—” He choked off, jaw ticking. “We’ve already had this conversation, okay?”

The momentary fear over his temper faded, replaced with my own. “Well, I’m so fucking sorry that I’m not as normal and mature as you are, Ben. I’m sorry my hangover and memory gaps are so inconvenient for you and that you have to waste your precious time reminding me of shit I can’t remember. I’m sorry that I got drunk last night and puked all over you; I obviously didn’t do it on purpose because that sounds like a literal nightmare. And I’m so fucking sorry that seeing you kiss Alice made me—” I cut myself off before I revealed too much, swallowing the words that fought to escape my mouth.

An intense expression painted Ben’s face as he said, “Made you what?”

Fuck, I’d dug myself into a hole this time. I searched for something to say,anythingto say, and somehow I landed on, “She bullies me.”

Ben winced and I traced the leather of the center console to give myself something to look at that wasn’t him.

“They all do, okay? ’Cause I’m the fag that doesn’t take their shit, so they push and they pull because they can, and—” I swallowed hard. “I see you with them, and it hurts. Because I’m not like them. I’ll never be one of them.”

“Do you think I want you to be?” He asked like it was the most preposterous thing. “Silas, I think you’re amazing just the way you are. I don’twantyou to be like them.”

---