Page 12 of Kiss Me Again

For the first time since I met Marco, I feel butterflies. But I know they aren’t because of him. They are because I know Ben is watching us.

It's a quick kiss because no matter how much I enjoy the possibility of Ben watching us, I don't want Marco to get handsy again.

"See you," I say and quickly get out of the car, not letting Marco say anything else.

As I walk the stone path leading to the main door, I see a curtain on the second floor move.

In Ben's bedroom.

CHAPTER SEVEN

BEN

"Why did you go on a date when I specifically asked younotto?" I rush into the room without knocking, raising my voice right from the start.

Mia, who was taking off her shoes, jumps in surprise at my voice.

"Weren't you taught to knock?" she exclaims in irritation, standing up and throwing the shoes on the floor.

"This is my house," I retort and immediately regret it. Mia's face changes from angry to hurt, as if I just slapped her.

"All right, I'll leave," she says, reaching for her shoes again.

"No, please, Mia." I try to stop her, but she doesn't listen. She sits down on the bed and starts lacing up her sneakers. "Don't leave, please," I try again, but she doesn't even look at me. "I'm sorry!"

She stops, freezing in place, looking at her shoes, waiting to see what I will do next.

I bend down, trying to get to my knees, but my injured right knee hurts so much that I can’t do it. She sees my pain and jumps up, looking at me from above with those beautiful blue eyes.

"I'm sorry," I repeat, looking directly at her, feeling this painful tension between us.

"For what?" She crosses her arms, moving back from me. "For reminding me that I'm not welcome here or for not wanting me to be here in the first place?"

"What are you talking about? I..."

"Diana just threw it at you, and you had no choice but to accept it," she interrupts. "You couldn't tell her that you didn't want to see me, could you? Because in that case, she would start asking questions, and you would have to explain to her that we are no longer friends. Why? Because you kissed me when you were drunk and weren't brave enough to tell me that it was nothing after that..."

"That's not true..." I try to explain.

"You chickened out and decided to ghost me." She raises her voice even louder, letting me know that she's not done yet, and there's no point in me trying to speak. "Because you thought that...what? That I am going tochaseafter you? I’ll stalk and embarrass you? Because of one kiss? Because..."

"Mia, stop it. That is not true!" This time I am the one to raise my voice. I need her to stop speaking, pay attention and finally listen to me. "I've never felt embarrassed about kissing you; it's not that," I add, quieter this time.

She's trembling, breathing heavily and biting her lips to prevent herself from shaking, but she's too nervous to hide it. I'm terrified, too, maybe even more, even though it's not as apparent on the outside as it is with Mia. But I know it's now or never. I have to be honest with her, or we'll lose our bond forever.

"Then what,Benjamin? What did I do to you that you cut me off from your life completely?" She emphasizes my name, knowing perfectly well that I hate being called by my full name. My first coach used it each time I made a mistake on the field. I almost quit sports because of that bastard.

I say nothing. We stare at each other, and there's so much I want to say, but it feels like I’ve lost my ability to speak.

"Cards on the table," she finally says, the thing I knew was coming. It was always our thing; I’m just surprised she waited so long to say it.

When we were eight or nine, Mia was upset with something, and I desperately wanted to know why. I asked her to tell me, but she refused. That's when I said, “Cards on the table,” a phrase I’d heard from my father and asked him what it meant. Mia looked at me with surprise. It was rare for that girl not to know the meaning of some phrase, even when she was a kid, so she got interested. I said that I'd explain it only if she told me what was wrong.

She did. And since that day, we’ve agreed that whenever one of us hides something, the other has a right to say 'cards on the table,' and the other person will be obliged to tell the truth.

"Why? Why did you stop being friends with me?" she continues, taking a step closer. She isn't shaking anymore. "Why don't you want me to date Marco?"

"Because I'm jealous!" I retort, almost yelling at her as if it's her fault. She jumps slightly, surprised by what I just said and how I said it. "I'm sorry," I say quietly and take her gently by the shoulders. Her body is tensed, but she doesn't push me away. "I'm sorry that I ghosted you and we stopped being friends."

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