I don’t think he’s thinking the same thing, though. His face radiates concern, and here it comes: his patentedinjured birdexpression. Nothing like a little snot to kill the vibe.
“Well, your friend Jess was right.”
Not what I was expecting.
“What do you mean?” I pull back a little, needing to put some space between us.
“You didn’t miss much with the road trips.”
I let out a laugh-sob through my sniffling. When he pats my back a final time and stands, I feel his absence acutely.
“I’m serious. Family road trips are the worst. All we did was fight. My parents wanted to murder us. And I would get carsick. I ate a lot back then, too, so you can imagine.” He grimaces as he retakes his seat. “It wasn’t pretty.”
I’m laughing even harder now. “Your poor mother.”
“She’s a saint,” he agrees.
“She seems very sweet.”
“She liked you.”
“She could tell that from the whole two minutes we chatted, huh?” I force a smile.
“That, and maybe a few other things I’ve told her.” He winks.
When he starts eating again he focuses studiously on his plate, and I know he’s giving me space to collect myself. When I’ve recovered some, I break the silence.
“Ben?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
“For making you cry? Anytime. Bringing women to tears is one of my many talents.” He huffs on his fingertips and polishes them against his chest.
I’m laughing again. “I know what you’re doing.”
“Do you now?”
I nod.
“Is it working?”
I don’t even have to think about it. “Yes.”
Chapter 20
This must be what hell feels like.
More specifically, the volcanic pit of sexual frustration in which I’m currently burning alive.
Last night when Ben took me home—the one-minute walk next door apparently deemed too dangerous for me to navigate on my own—I’d somehow convinced myself he was going to kiss me good night. I psyched myself up for it and everything. I was minty fresh. I was ready.
But he just squeezed my hand and told me he’d see me tomorrow.
I wallowed in crushing disappointment on the lonely elevator ride up to my apartment. Then I chased that disappointment with hours of tossing and turning. Does Ben not feel the sexual tension between us? Is he that oblivious?
Or worse—is it completely one-sided?
