Page 111 of Burn Bright
He was never really mine, so I don’t understand why I feel so shattered at the idea of losing him.
“Harriet…” His voice is a soft, broken whisper. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m not upset,” I lie. “I’m just processing. It’s not like I expected us to be best friends forever and graffitiBen and Harriet BFFon a toilet stall. That would be silly. We’re just hanging out for a few months, sharing a class, working together. It’s not that deep.” I partly say the words out loud to make sure my subconscious is getting this memo. The other part is to see Ben’s reaction.
His lips flatline, but he nods tensely. “But to be clear,” he tells me. “I’ve never invited a friend to spend the night with me. I’m usually over their house, so it might not be that deep but it’s not my norm.”
It might not be that deep.
But it’s not his norm.
I’m a vessel for conflicted emotions. His words are a paradox gifted with a bow. Maybe I shouldn’t have said “it’s not that deep” to begin with. The lie hurts. This has been the deepest friendship I’ve ever had, and we’ve only been hanging out for a month and a half. I just didn’t expect him to agree with me—but I’m an idiot because I rolled those dice.
I don’t know how to do this. Friendships. Relationships that last longer than a full moon. I’m saying the wrong things in some wasted effort to protect my heart.
At least he told you, Harriet.
At least he didn’t just leave out of the blue.
“What’s your favorite movie?” he asks.
My eyes sear as I restrain more emotion. “Sugar & Spice. I don’t think you’ll like it though.”
He frowns. “Why not?”
“It’s about a group of cheerleaders who plan to rob a bank when one of them gets pregnant. It’s a chick flick.”
“I have a little sister, remember? I’m well-acquainted with chick flicks. Let’s do it.” He’s clicking on his laptop and pulling up the film. He keeps glancing at me. Not that I’ve made eye contact. I am successfully avoiding that. But I can feel the heat of his concern bearing on me in three-second increments.
He nudges my shoulder with his. “Harriet,” he breathes. “Can you look at me at least?”
I bite the inside of my lip before turning my head and catching the depth of his baby blues.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I should’ve told you sooner that I didn’t plan on staying in New York. If you don’t want to hang out anymore?—”
“No,” I wince. The idea of cutting him out of my liferight nowis too abrupt. I’m eviscerated just thinking about it. “I want to hang out. We have the rest of September and all of October, right?”
He nods strongly. “Yeah.”
“Okay, then we have two months, and I will try my best not to be the world’s grumpiest person during that span of time.”
He laughs. “I’ll take what I can get. You want to be grumpy, that’s not going to bother me.” He pauses a beat before he adds, “I just can’t stand it when you’re sad.”
Then don’t leave. I still can’t manage the words. “I’m trying not to be.”
He wraps an arm over my shoulders, pulling me closer to his side, and I instinctively unfurl from my roly-poly position, my body subconsciously craving his embrace, his comfort. I rest my cheek on his bicep, and his arm falls to my waist. He’s holding me against his sturdy, athletic frame, and I start to will myselfto forget about his impending departure from the city. From my life.
The movie plays, and we sink down a little together. I’m lying into him like he’s a pillow, and his hand makes small soothing circles on my arm. I’ve never half-watched Sugar & Spice. I’m usually engrossed by the campiness and dark humor, but tonight my mind wanders so easily.
His fingers slip under my black sleeve and brush my skin in a casual way, but the skin-to-skin contact has my brain buzzing.
I glance up at him every so often, and he’ll glance down. An emotional undercurrent tethers me and him together when maybe it should’ve torn us further apart. I seek out his comfort in the same way he seems to be seeking out my presence.
My breathing shallows. I imagine what it’d be like to be underneath Ben. Cocooned and protected by his strong build. I imagine him pushing inside me. Closer than we’ve ever been.
I want it even more than I did.
As the movie plays, I don’t stop myself from visualizing Ben leaning in to kiss the nape of my neck, his erection digging into me. Why would I stop? He’s leaving. There’s no friendship to protect anymore. I can have as many illicit thoughts as I want.
