Page 35 of Until the Last Star Fades

The springs in the loveseat below groaned then grew quiet. A few minutes passed. Unsure if Ben’s tossing and turning was finished, Riley peeked over her bed’s edge, careful not to give herself away. Ben’s long legs and Christmas socks were hanging off the loveseat, but if he was uncomfortable, it didn’t sound like it. His breathing was restful, quiet. He IS still breathing, right? She hovered on the edge for another minute, listening to him sleep and then returned to her pillow, her mind swirling with the pinky swear she’d made with a hot guy over a California wrap and a vinegar-soaked burger.

Sixteen

Munching away on a piece of buttery toast smothered in peanut butter, Ben leaned against the sink, flipping through the pages of Riley’s Lairds and Liars calendar.

“Ben?” A sleepy voice wafted down from the suspended bed.

Shit, caught out. “Ah, Hope,” Ben mumbled, fingers abandoning August to fly over his full mouth. “Morning!” He shifted to his left, plunging the lever of Riley’s toaster. The two heating elements lit up, surrounding two slices of bread with an orange glow. He turned around, hands jammed in the pockets of his jeans and cheeks full of toast.

Riley scratched her bedhead. “Feeling at home?”

“Uh…” Swallowing the mouthful, he dipped his chin, his fingers escaping his pockets to twist the hem of his t-shirt. “Yeah, I got peckish and wanted to make you breakfast—to thank you, but…” His eyes swept the open shelves. “You don’t have much in.”

“Hello, student budget.” She climbed down the ladder and smiled at the butter and open bag of sliced bread. “This is a first.”

“What is?” Jeez, she’s even more adorable in the morning. Gaze falling from her face, Ben momentarily lost the ability to form words. Fuck, nipples—she’s not wearing a bra under that t-shirt. Stop gawking!

Joining him at the counter, Riley pulled at her t-shirt’s hem. “A guy making me breakfast.”

Focus, Fagan. Finish your breakfast…pretend she’s wearing a parka—or just don’t look at her at all. He picked up a knife, dipping it into the peanut butter. “Call off the trumpets, Hope, it’s only toast.”

“But I LOVE toast.”

He smeared another blob of peanut butter on his breakfast.

“You really like that stuff, huh?”

“There’s something about American peanut butter that’s the dog’s bollocks—I mean, it’s awesome.” He bit into his remaining piece, his eyes alive with childlike bliss.

Riley lifted a box of cereal. “You should try these.”

Ben chewed quickly, the Reese’s Puffs pulling his eyes back to her. “Peanut butter cereal?! Cereal is life, especially Frosties. I could eat it breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I’d love to try that, but your milk is off.”

“Oh, really? Crap.” She returned the box to its home. “So, meet any more spiders?”

A subtle burning smell tweaked Ben’s nose and a twirling ribbon of smoke rose from the toaster. “Shhiiiiiit.” Is it ruined? He dropped his breakfast on its plate and swooped, forcing Riley’s partially charred toast to spring into view. “I’ll make more—”

“No, it’s fine—”

“Let me fix it.” Ben chopped off a singed corner then stuck a knife into the butter, carving out a large curl. I’ll cover the rest, make it edible. Jeez, can’t I do anything right? He handed her the plate, butter pooling on the crunchy toast.

“Yum, thanks!” She sat down on the loveseat.

She’s just saying that. Ben followed but stood, plate and knife in hand, looking at the pictures taped to the wall. A few postcards stood out: Strand Bookstore, London…Puffins? He paused at a photo of a rosy-cheeked guy in a green and white hockey jersey, helmet tilted up on his forehead and a ‘king of the world’ glint in his eye. Someone thinks highly of himself. Ben pointed the knife. “Is this the boyfriend?”

Riley looked up. “Yeah, that’s Josh.”

Several photos showcased relationship bliss: holding hands while skating in Central Park, a selfie snapped at a parade, laughing hysterically at a gigantic SpongeBob SquarePants balloon hovering overhead. Josh is definitely the center of her world. With a long exhale, Ben moved on, skimming pictures of Erika and a few people he didn’t recognize, including a male with wavy shoulder-length brown hair, intense green eyes, and a puppy tugging on a leash. “Is the guy with the dog your brother?”

“No, that’s my friend Casey, pre-haircut. The dog is Erika’s.” Riley licked buttery crumbs from her thumb. “I’m an only child. How ’bout you?”

“Same.” Ben didn’t turn around, admiring photos of Riley in a bathing suit. “I feel like an island sometimes.”

“I know how that feels. Good thing I know how to swim.” Riley giggled and returned to her toast.

If only you’d swim out to me. My God, you’re beautiful.

“All my friends have siblings. Piper has an older brother, Casey has three sisters, and Erika’s family’s practically a football team—so many kids!”