Page 155 of Between the Blue
But then we both lower our chins at the same time, finding ourselves face to face once more.
I know I should pull back, but I’ve seemed to determine that there is a gravitational pull in Ben’s eyes. And the way they look now– with Christmas lights reflecting in them– only intensifies it.
My throat suddenly feels tight, and I attempt to swallow against it. I have to dip my chin to do so, and that makes a strand of hair fall into my face.
Like some sort of reflex, Ben reaches up, grabbing it. He twirls it between his thumb and pointer finger for a few seconds, looking like he’s examining it before he moves to tuck it behind my ear. His fingers linger in my hair for a second longer than necessary, sending a shiver down my spine.
He seems to notice, and his jaw flexes. My eyes shift automatically down to watch it, and then, without thinking, they float over to his lips. As soon as I realize it, I force my gaze back up to his eyes.
But his eyes are already on my lips now.
I hear the scrapbook close in his hands, and then he sets it down on the window sill next to us, taking a step closer. He reaches up to push my hair back, intentionally this time, and, despite my every instinct, I let my brain protect my pounding heart in my chest.
“Ben,” I whisper.
“Yeah?”
I tilt my head back, putting an extra inch of space between us. “Friends don’t kiss under mistletoe.”
He blinks a few times, and then his eyes fall completely shut, his hand tightening in my hair like he’s holding himself back from something.
“Yeah,” he mutters. “You’re right, Cherry. They usually don’t.”
I swallow hard, taking a big step backwards, letting Ben’s hands slip out of my hair.
He takes a step back of his own, shaking his head like he’s forcing himself back to reality, then shoves his hands into his pockets.
Without discussing our next move, I start walking towards his front door, and Ben seems to float behind me there, staying several feet back.
Once I’ve grabbed my things and found my keys, I open the door and step through it, then pause for just a moment and look over my shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Ben.”
“Yeah.” He nods slowly, his tongue pressing against his lower lip. “You too.”
I smile tightly, and I know there’s nothing more to say, but I sense both of us just want a few more seconds to look at each other. “See you after the holidays?” I ask.
Ben’s brows pull together. Then his gaze drops gradually to the floor. I wait a few moments for him to respond. But he never does.
I close the door.
forty-one
HIM, ELEVEN YEARS EARLIER
Things were never the same with her after the holidays.
But I’m not sure that’s saying much.
Things were never the same with Jules at any time.
But all I know is that it’s been seven months since then.
Another winter gone. Another spring past. Another season finished.
And I can count the times I’ve seen her throughout all of it on one hand.
Jules didn’t lie.
In fact, she was more than honest.
