Page 73 of Crimson Promises
“I’d rather deal with a petulant Chelsea any day over whatever fight club scenario you lived in.”
“I guess when it’s something you are surrounded by your entire life—it’s all you know.”
Someone bumped into me with their backpack.
“Watch it,” Ben called over my head.
“We should probably go somewhere to get this project hammered out.”
Ben rocked on his heels as he clutched the straps of his bag. “Based on your excellent choice in selecting a partner, you should know that a private room awaits us in Charlotte Williams. Packed with unhealthy snacks that will surely provide a sugar rush and a serious case of drowsiness immediately afterward. The key is to ride out the wave of the sugar to do as much work as possible and then nap when typing another word or lifting a pen feels difficult.”
“How could I pass up such a thrilling opportunity to gorge on junk food? You truly know the way to a woman’s heart, Ben.”
Ben clasped his left hand over his chest. “You wound me so.”
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.”
* * *
It’d been a while since I was last at Charlotte Williams. I’d been avoiding the place since the night I was attacked. Between working at the library and the accident, I used running as my refuge instead of my secret spot.
Ben led us towards the east annex, where you could book rooms, cubicles, or larger presentation rooms for studying. The last time I was here was during first-year orientation. I usually shuffled through directly to my site unless I had to speak to a librarian. Surprisingly, most of my classes thus far didn’t require projects to be completed in groups, and that's how I preferred it.
In my freshman History of the Catholic Church course, we could do the assignments with a group or alone. There was a cluster of three girls who were smiling and chattering to themselves. They seemed warm and friendly. I had vowed ACU would be a different experience than high school. I didn’t want to be the outcast anymore. I mustered all my courage and walked over to the group of girls, clutching my binder tightly so they couldn’t see my hands shaking. I didn’t realize how desperate I was to feel accepted until that moment.
For a few seconds, I just stood there until a girl with dark hair in a French braid looked over at me. She still had a welcoming smile on her face. It deepened my confidence. “Hi, I was wondering if you needed an extra person to work on the assignment with. I’d be okay with any part?—“
The girl's face fell, and that’s when I knew. “Oh.” She had reached back to finger the weaving of her braid. “I’m sorry, but we’ve already split our parts.”
“Of course.” I had wanted to hide my face behind my binder. How stupid was I? They were undoubtedly all best friends. They didn’t need another person. “Makes sense.”
“Maybe next time, though.” She attempted the same smile again, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
That was how my entire adolescent experience was. It wasn’t until Ben that I felt some part of me blossom into someone who wasn’t afraid to ask for what she wanted. And, at the same time, I knew that whatever it was between us would be fleeting. It was a conundrum at the very minimum.
I had unknowingly walked right into Ben’s back. As quick as lightning, he reached behind him with both hands and steadied me. “Whoa there.”
“Sorry, I guess I didn’t realize you’d stopped walking.” More like I was reliving my deep past emotional trauma to notice where we were going.
“We’re here.” He opened the door with a flourish.
Here was a square room encased in glass, connected to several identical study rooms. I couldn’t hear the people on either side of us, but we could all see each other. In the middle of the room sat a rectangular table with outlets lined in the middle, easy access for charging devices. On one of the sides of the room, not connected to the other study areas, was a plasma T.V. with an HDMI output, which would come in handy when flushing out the remainder of this assignment.
At the center of the table were, as Ben promised, snacks galore. Harvest Cheddar Sunchips, Salt and Vinegar Lays, and Cool Ranch Doritos. There was also a candy spread: Airheads, Sour Patch Kids, and Sour Keys. It was the ultimate combination of sweet and salty with no chocolate (yay!). People always looked like I was crazy when I mentioned that I wasn’t a fan of chocolate, but I just didn’t like it.
He picked all of my favorites. He didn’t select one thing that I didn’t like.
“Ben, this is incredible. You didn’t have to do all of this.”
“I wanted to.”
“I don’t understand, though. How did you know that all of these were my favorites?”
“I’m sure you mentioned them to me earlier.”
I had every conversation I had with him unwillingly committed to memory. Not once did we ever talk about what my favored snacks were. He didn’t have social media. I scoured several platforms trying to look into him after the first day we had met. But he was a ghost, a handsome one. All of this was probably a coincidence, but something in me wanted to push the issue further with him.
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t.” I kept my arms tucked in close to my body.
