Page 115 of Between the Blue
It doesn’t make any difference at all that you haven’t spoken in a week. And that, the last time you were speaking, he had just made you co–
“What the hell are you doing here?”
My head snaps up, and I have to raise my hand over my eyes to block the sun. Because I want to make sure I’m seeing clearly. That it’s really Ben in front of me.
“Excuse me?” I say.
Ben’s jaw clenches, and he gives a quick look to each side of him before he moves, grabbing me by the elbow and dragging me around the side of the transport vans sitting on the tarmac.
I let out a gasp, feeling like a complete ragdoll, my suitcase helplessly dragging behind me as he pulls me along. I’m so focused on not rolling an ankle in my heels that I don’t even get to question what the hell he’s doing before we’re behind the van and Ben is pressing my back against the side of it, hiding us completely out of sight from anyone waiting to get on the plane.
“What the fuck, Cherry?” Ben practically growls.
I try to press my lips together, but a humorless laugh bursts out of me. “Hi. Nice to see you, Ben,” I say, smiling sarcastically. “My week has been great. Thanks so much for asking. Long time no see.Actually, wait. I’ve seen you just about every day this week and you haven’t said a word–”
“You don’t come to away games,” he says, cutting me off and completely ignoring my passive aggressive monologue.
I cock my head to the side. “Actually, I do,” I tell him. “The ones that don’t conflict with my school schedule. Which is why I’m here.”
Ben’s brows pull together, and I can see him mentally sorting through the season thus far and realizing why this would be the first time I’ve joined them on a trip.
“Is that going to be a problem for you?” I ask.
His gaze lifts, meeting mine. “You’re always a problem for me.”
My hands ball into fists at my side, and I shake my head. “I’m sorry, was I aproblemfor you exactly one week ago when you had your literal tongue inside of me?”
Ben doesn’t respond.
“So are we back to pretending like you don’t want me around?” I ask. “Because that’s a little hard when you already admitted to me that that isn’t the case. So, which is it?”
“That was…” Ben says, trailing off.
“What?” I push him.
He stands tall, shifting his eyes downwards. “I didn’t mean it. Any of it.”
I open my mouth and then close it, trying my best to ignore the painful pinch in my chest at his words. With my silence stretching on, he finally looks at me again. And the moment I see the look in his eyes, I know the truth.
“You’re full of shit, Ben James.”
His hands fall away from the van, freeing me from the cage of his arms.
“Alright, everybody, let’s load up!” a loud voice calls from the other side of the van, making both of us flinch.
When I look back at Ben, he’s shaking his head slowly. And when he speaks again, his voice is lower, like his thoughts are coming from somewhere far away. “It was a mistake,” he says.
“Yeah,” I scoff, grabbing my suitcase. “That we can agree on.”
The rest of the afternoon, thankfully, goes by in a bit of hectic haze.
I stayed behind as Ben got onto the plane first, followed by the rest of the players, which was a choice that killed two birds with one stone.
One, I was able to get some photos and video clips of the guys getting onto the plane, andtwo, it allowed me to sit at the very back of the plane, as far away from Ben as possible.
Once I got to my seat, I immediately put on my headphones and pulled out my laptop to sort through and post the content I got. It only made me even more infuriated with Ben that his photo was the best of the bunch.
Once we touched down in Miami, we hopped straight onto a bus to head to the arena for practice. We were handed keys to our hotel rooms as we got off the bus to hold onto while our bags were taken to our rooms.
