But when I reach for my car keys off the hanger above my desk, my phone lights up, now charged just enough to show life.
My breath catches in my throat, heart skipping a beat. A text from Ben!
I snatch my phone up and sit staring at it, debating whether I should swipe up and read it now or wait. The high of seeing he reached out could sustain me the rest of the afternoon, but what if I waited too long and got my hopes up for nothing? What if this isn’t a good text? Slinking down in my chair, the internal battle consumes me.
I’ve never intentionally explored my feelings about Ben before.
What I’ve been feeling lately can only be described as jealousy toward Tree. Not jealous because of who she is but because of what she’s gained. Him. His body. His mind. Knowing him in a way I never have and becoming a completely intimate part of him.
The real question is…am I only jealous in a friendly way? Because of the way she knows him, and I don’t? Is it possessiveness over our friendship?
Yesterday popped into my mind, reminding me that wasn’t it. How I felt when he was most likely flirting with me was definitely a want forhim, and not just as a friend. And it wasn’t embarrassment that he might see my almost naked body, but anticipation. I was nervous about his touch, but I wanted him to be there with me, to explore and touch me in a new way.
How did I never realize it before? I’ve always looked for his motorcycle everywhere. In town, at his house, atschool… I’m always checking to see if he’s around. Does he do the same for me?
He monopolizes my mind often before bed. Ruminations churn on what we’d talk about, if I’d get the chance to see him, what it’d be like to be back to normal when he’s with Tree, what he’d be wearing to school, his hair, how he looks when he rides his bike…what it would feel like to be on the back of his bike, especially since he’s never let anyone ride it with him, even me.
I’ve been so blind. This is a crush. I have a crush on Ben!
An obvious epiphany, but an epiphany, nonetheless. Guess my parents were always right about Ben and me, at least on my side. I do like him, and I want him to want me and not Tree. To be with me and not her. But maybe it’s too late for that. Maybe he just thinks of me as a sister and nothing more. Will I ever find out?
My phone almost slips out of my hands, making me jump-catch it. It’s no use. Knowing what I know now, I won’t be able to get any lifting done if I don’t read it before I go.
With bated breath, I turn the phone over and swipe up on his message.
I scoff. Thenerve.
Is he just wanting attention? Like, what is this obsession he has with making me jealous this weekend?
I refuse to admit to him that Iwasin fact jealous so instead I text back the only thing I can come up with.
Yeah, Charlotte, that’ll do it.I roll my eyes. A few bubbles pop up showing he’s typing back before disappearing and then reappearing over and over again.
What seemed like the longest few minutes of my life went by with no reply. Was my response too cold? This is so uncomfortable. I’ve never had a conversation like this with a boy before. How am I supposed to navigate this?
Screw it. I’m breaking this barrier between us.
Anxiety rises through me as I tap send. The bubbles quickly pop up again.
At my wits end, I throw my arms up in awkward aggravation. What the heck? He makes it sound like thisshould besoeasy. If he has something he wants to admit then he should. Why am I the one that has to admit it first and possibly be rejected?
Yeah. I don’thaveto tell him anything. They’remyfeelings. It’smychoice.
My only child personality quickly resurfaces. The bratty part of my brain and I agreed. Nope. I don’t owe him an actual answer if I don’t have it or want it.
Grinning from ear to ear, I shoot the text off. Let’s see what he has to say tothat.
My lips curl up, my entire body prickling with heat after re-reading his text repeatedly.
I love this feeling, although I only just figured out Iprobably have a crush on him like five minutes ago. I’m not going to tell him anything unless I'm one hundred percent sure. Plus, he’s the guy, shouldn’t he tell me his feelings first?
Actually… speaking of feelings…
The unsent message shakes in my hand from my knee bouncing so violently, my nail occupying a space in my teeth. Drawing a deep breath to gather up the nerve, I fast tap on the send icon. Bubbles appear and disappear over the next couple of minutes. Either he’s texting me a whole book, or he’s typing and erasing what he’s trying to say. I stare at the bubbles reappearing and disappearing for way too long.
This is driving me mad. Why won’t he just send me what he’s so obviously typing? I give up.
Disappointed, I toss my phone on my bed, grab my keys and go to the school gym to do my lifts. This should keep me busy the rest of the evening. In fact, maybe I won’t reply to him at all even after he texts me back.
