Matt: No problem
I set my phone down and stare at it for a moment. Truth is, I barely even thought of Matt until I needed him. But I can’t be alone at this thing when I see Ben. I need someone next to me — someone solid, someone who proves I’ve moved on.
There. Now when I have to face him I can show him I’m not a loser.
Thirty minutes and a lot of stress-thinking later, I realize my mistake. When I have to face him he’ll see exactly what he manufactured. He’ll see little Liz following orders by calling Matt and trying to make it work. God, he’s going to be so damn proud of himself for putting this all together!
How can I make him feel like he’s messed up by being a callous ass if his little plan works out?
I throw my head back, hands fisted at my sides, and scream into my empty apartment: “Damn you, Ben, you clever little English wanker!”
Chapter 22
Liz, May 11
Plans are set, RSVPs are in, Candy is annoying me pretending we are friends, there is no stopping this reunion now. I feel like I am spending an unhealthy amount of time agonizing over every detail. Three weeks ago I didn’t really care that West High was even having a reunion and now I find myself helping with stupid details like caterers.
“What are you working on over there?” Matt asks.
We’re sitting on my couch, watching some stupid action movie, and I am on my laptop staring at an email from Candy. Apparently, the hotel we are having the reunion at will not have the pool construction finished and Candy is “very concerned” that people will not be happy. I’ve already responded to explain that whatever amenities the hotel will offer will be fine, but I’ve spaced out slipping down memory lane.
“Nothing,” I answer, “just reunion stuff.”
“My ten-year reunion certainly didn’t seem like the kind of thing someone put this much effort into.” His voice sounds playful, but there’s annoyance under the surface.
“Maybe they didn’t.”
“Why are you doing all of this?”
Good question. “I like being helpful.” I shrug.
“Or maybe it’s because Ben —” I stop, my throat closing around the name.
Matt glances at me, eyebrows pulled tight. “Because who?”
“Because Candy,” I correct quickly, laughing a little too loudly. “She’s a lunatic about this thing. Someone has to keep her from losing her mind.”
He watches me for a beat too long before nodding. “Right. Candy.”
Matt stands up and kisses me on the head as he moves into my adjoining dining room. “I’m gonna go home and sleep.” He returns, keys in hand. “I’ll see you soon. Don’t work too hard being helpful.”
I smile at him, feeling strangely guilty, as he slips out the front door. Irrationally, I want to yell out “I’m not really helpful!” but I can’t explain why I’m suddenly throwing myself into this stupid party planning any more than I could move a brick wall. And I definitely can’t explain why, in the moment his lips brush my hair, I feel distracted instead of warm. Why the thought that I should be content only makes me restless.
I also can’t explain why I keep checking my email 50 times a day or why I have made that one email address a favorite. Every time I refresh, I half-hope there’s a name waiting for me. Every time there isn’t, I promise myself I won’t look again. And then I do.
Actually, I could explain that last stuff, I’m just not sure I would be happy with the explanation.
Chapter 23
Liz, May 22
Candy doesn’t know that a bunch of people have decided to hit up a bar near West High before the reunion. Josh, some old football star, organized the bar bash for the day before the reunion. I didn’t want to go, honestly, but part of me wondered if this was my chance to see Ben and show him the new me.
I dress to kill. My best purple shirt, chosen because it’s a good color and because it makes my boobs look amazing. A cute skirt, heels to make my legs look longer, and knock-out curls in my shoulder-length hair. I do the make-up I never wore in high school and top it off with a pretty necklace that nestles right into my exposed cleavage. I don’t invite Matt. This one’s not for him. I am thinking if I regret the reunion as an opportunity for Ben to appreciate his handy work, then this is my opportunity to make him wonder if it worked. Torture him just a little. Let him see what he gave up.
Of course, there’s the possibility he won’t even be there. Maybe he’s planning on sliding in just for the official reunion tomorrow. Maybe he’ll skip the bar to avoid all the small talk and the stares. But what if he does show up? What if I’m not there? That thought alone has me reapplying my lip gloss for the third time. If this is my chance, I don’t want to miss it.
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking over the last month. I think I have mentally prepared myself for dealing with Ben. I am not upset or angry anymore. I think I am starting to come to terms with the fact that he meant well and I have accepted that, as much as anyone can accept being completely ignored.
