Page 148 of Between the Blue
“Between the blue,” he says.
forty
HER
Between the hectic hockey schedule, final exams, and the holiday season, the next month goes by in a blur.
I didn’t really know what I was signing up for when I agreed to be friends with Ben, but I think the two of us have been too busy to put that much thought into it.
I went home to Georgia for the week of Thanksgiving, and he’s been gone for days at a time for away game road trips. The team has thankfully been flexible with me, letting me do more work from home than normal as I was studying for exams and finishing up final projects. And, in between, me and Ben have just kept things casual.
I’ve seen him at the gym in the mornings he’s actually been in town and we’ve nodded and said hello at practices and games. We’ve even asked each other about how our days have been and gone as far to comment on the weather here and there. But, beyond that, nothing has happened.
I won’t lie. There have been moments where I’ve found myself slipping up. Occasions where my camera may have been a little more biased towards him than necessary. Games where I hovered at his press conferences when I probably should have been elsewhere. Times that a deep ache set in my stomach asI watched crowds of girls fawning over him and was reminded that he isn’t mine to be jealous over. Nights where I’ve tossed and turned, envisioning his amber eyes on me and his lips whispering my name.
But it’s not just me.
Ben’s always been subtle, but I’ve picked up on his tells by now. I can sense when he’s watching me, always just out of my peripheral vision. I notice that he’s always the last player out of a room when I’m there too. And if an occasion ever does arise when the two of us do ever have to come into contact, his touch always lingers just a moment longer than necessary. When he’s taking a paper or a water bottle from my hand. Or when we end up sitting next to each other, and he presses his outer thigh unnecessarily against mine. Or when he’s had to scoot past me, and he rests his hand on my lower back, just an inch lower than what’s appropriate, making sure his fingertips drag against my skin as they pull away.
I don’t know if what either of us is doing is intentional, but I think it’s the best we can do for now.
As long as we’re keeping the peace.
But, this weekend, I suppose we’re doing a little more than that.
Ben apparently hosts a holiday party every year for the team.
I heard some of the guys talking about it at Randall’s after a game a couple nights ago, some of them joking about what they were going to bring for the white elephant gift exchange while others debated who they should bring as their plus-one.
After Caroline not-so-politely declined what seemed to not be Rhett’s first invitation, he and a few of the others got up and headed to the bar, leaving Ben and me as the only ones at the end of the table.
I took a sip of my drink, watching the guys as they made their way and chuckling under my breath when Rhett nearly trippedover himself trying to talk to a blonde woman standing at the edge of the bar.
“You could come, you know,” Ben said, making my head turn in his direction. “If you want to.”
I looked at him for a few seconds before it clicked. “To your Christmas party?”
He nodded.
I swirled my drink around in my glass. “Am I your plus-one?”
He rubbed a hand over his jaw before slowly shaking his head. “No.”
I pushed my tongue into the side of my cheek. “Can I bring a plus-one, then?”
“No.”
He took a sip from his glass, and I raised one of my brows.
“Not sure that’s fair,” I said.
“You can bring a white elephant gift.”
I pressed my lips in to a line. “What about eggnog?”
“Knock yourself out, Cherry.”
So that’s how I’ve found myself ringing the doorbell of Bennett James this evening, a gift box in one hand and a jug of eggnog in the other.
