Page 80 of The Last Thing You Said

“Eh,” Ben said, his mouth full.

“Whatever,” Trixie said again.

Ben swallowed. “Mum, she’s barely tolerable and you know it.” He grinned. I could see a tiny blueberry lodged in one of his top teeth.

I smiled at Ben, and when I glanced at Trixie, she winked at me.

At that moment, I could never have imagined this—my life now. In Guthrie’s living room, avoiding the crowd in the basement, where Hannah is belting out a lopsided version of “Stand by Your Man.” Ben and his girlfriend are here somewhere. Ben, who kissed me, once. And Simon, how could I possibly forget about Simon, my boyfriend? Where is Simon? I need to tell him that I’m actually in love with Ben.

No, no. I can’t do that. I am getting over him. I am getting over Ben. Right? But I still miss him.

Fuzzy. The world is fuzzy. I stand up, sway, put my palm on the wall to steady myself. I will find Hannah and tell her we need to go. Or I need to. She should stay—it’s her birthday, after all. I shake my head. Neither one of us can drive.

I’m stuck.

I’ve been stuck all summer.

I make my way down the stairs to the basement, gripping the handrail along the stairs so tightly my knuckles turn white.

The basement is dark. A spinning disco ball flashes purple-and-silver light onto the walls, the carpet, the couches. Guthrie stands at the front of the room destroying a Garth Brooks song. Dana untangles herself from Ben’s arms and walks past me with a pitying look. I don’t want her pity. I close my eyes so I don’t have to see her. If I can’t see her, she can’t see me. If I can’t see Ben, Ben can’t see me.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” A low growl from the couch.

Ben can see me. I have been able to avoid him since we got here, but I cannot avoid the truth of us. Of me, loving him. My stomach flips, and I teeter a little as I step over his legs, which are stretched out in front of him.

I want him to reach out, pull me onto his lap, kiss me like he did in the Firebird, until I forget who I am, forget everything.

“Lucille!” Hannah cries. “It’s about damn time! Where have you been?”

I take another step but Ben sticks his leg out in front of me and I stumble. Once I right myself, I turn to glare at him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I hiss.

“I asked you a question,” Ben says. His eyes are glassy but he sounds normal, calm. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

“Mind your own business, Ben,” Hannah says, and pulls me closer. “Now’s not the time for this.”

“It is my business,” Ben says.

“Since when?” I ask, my voice trembling. Why is he talking to me?

“Since always,” Ben says.

Oh.

“Ben,” Hannah says, and makes a deliberate, overstated move to face him, “where has Dana gone?”

“Yeah.” I stick out my chin. “You might not get laid tonight if she sees you talking to me.”

“Be careful, Lucy,” Ben says.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” I say, but then I furrow my brow. I’m not sure that the words have come out right.

I look at him, at his lips, at his eyes, dark with anger and a need that reflects my own. I need Ben. I do.

“Ignore him,” Hannah says, and she pulls me down on the couch next to her in time to hear Guthrie’s big finish. Hannah claps and whistles.

“Your turn,” Guthrie says to Hannah, and when she stands, he pulls her close and kisses her.