Page 129 of Between the Blue
“Ben?” I ask.
And then he goes rigid on top of me.
Time seems to slow down as Ben raises his head from where it rests in my neck, just a centimeter at a time. When his face is finally above mine, he peers at me for a long second before he reaches out and pulls the string of the lamp on the bedside table.
When Ben’s face is illuminated, he looks as white as a ghost, completely frozen in place. After a long second, he blinks. And then he blinks again. And when he does, one single tear escapes from the corner of his eye, streaming down his face.
I reach up, moving to wipe it away.
“Ben–”
He pulls away from me, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and standing up.
“Wait, Ben.” I throw the blankets off of me and then remember that I’m completely naked. My face flushing, I grab the blanket from the floor Ben was originally intending to sleep with, wrapping it around myself.
He storms into the bathroom and begins to close the door behind him, but I beat him there, shoving my body through the doorway and stopping him.
“Hey,” I say. “Hold on. Are you okay?”
He moves to the sink and turns it on, bending over it to splash some water on his face. “I’m fine, Cherry.”
“Are you sure?”
Ben nods, but I’m not convinced.
“Did you…have a nightmare?”
His gaze raises to meet mine in the mirror. “Yeah, something like that.”
I press my lips together, searching his eyes for whatever could have gotten him so worked up.
I think he realizes what I’m doing and breaks eye contact with me, turning away from the sink and walking past me out of the bathroom.
“Just forget it,” he says, grabbing his suitcase from the floor and opening it up on top of the bed. “Please. It was nothing.” I don’t say anything for a moment, just watching him as he fishes another black t-shirt from his bag. “Sorry if I scared you.”
“You didn’t,” I assure him. “I was just… Iamjust…worried about you.”
His spine straightens as he’s slipping his shirt onto his bare chest. Once the shirt is fully over his head, his eyes narrow at me. “Don’t,” he says.
“Don’t what?”
“Do that.” He grabs a baseball cap from his suitcase, putting it on backwards. “Worry about me.”
My brows pull together. “Why not?”
“Because worrying is a feeling. And we’re not supposed to have those.”
I let out a scoff. “According to who?”
“Me,” he says flatly. “From the very beginning. I know you remember.”
He closes his suitcase, spinning around and grabbing his tennis shoes from the floor. He moves to sit on the chair in the corner of the room as he slips them on, and I just watch him with my mouth hanging open.
“What?” he asks as he ties his laces, not looking at me but sensing my stare on him.
“Why are you like this?”
Ben looks up at me now, slowly sitting up in his chair. I see something odd flash across his face, but he doesn’t answer me. So I ask him another question.
