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I think about asking him why he moved back and where his dad is now, but worry that might be too personal.
“What’s your favorite color?” I sputter the first thing that pops into my mind.
He blinks at me in surprise. “That’s the question you want to ask. After I just gave you free rein to ask me whatever you want?”
“A favorite color says a lot about someone,” I reply lamely.
“It says nothing about a person at all. And most people don’t even have a favorite color.” Shaking his head in disbelief, he reaches for the door knob again. “I’m going to go get a pen and paper, then I’m going to make a list of questions you should ask me. And then after I’ve answered them, we’ll make the other list.”
Shock seeps through my body. How did we go from him not wanting me at his party to him wanting to help me with my life changing crises? Benton is rarely nice to anyone, so why is he suddenly being nice to me?
Before I can ask him, he pulls on the door to leave.
But the door doesn’t budge.
“Shit.” He jiggles the doorknob then pounds his fist against the door. “Yo, anyone out there?”
The thudding music is his only response.
Sighing, he turns around, looking a bit remorseful. “So, I may have broken the lock when I picked it.”
“What?” I move up beside him to examine the door knob. “What’d you pick it with?”
“A screwdriver,” he says “I left it outside on the floor.”
Panic starts to set in, but my mind instantly shifts gears, going into solving-a-problem mode. “I’ll just text Taylor and tell her to come help us.” I fish my phone out of my back pocket then frown at the blank screen. “Crap, my battery’s dead.” I put the phone back into my pocket. “Please say you have yours on you.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t own a phone.”
My eyes widen. “You don’t own a cell phone?”
He gives me a look, as if I’m the crazy one. “Why would I want something that lets people get a hold of me twenty-four seven? It makes no sense.”
I gape at him like some foreign creature I don’t understand. And I kind of don’t. But honestly, I kind of want to. Before today, I thought Benton was this frightening, mean, bad boy. And maybe he still is. But there’s more to him than that. I can tell.
“So, now what do we do?” I ask.
He shrugs. “We wait until someone finds us.”
And just like that, I find myself locked in the bathroom with Benton.
First Kiss
“Maybe we could try screaming?” I suggest after ten minutes of watching Benton try to pick the lock with a hairpin. “Someone might hear us.”
“You can try to,” he shifts his weight to kneel on the floor then wiggles the pin in the lock, “But I doubt anyone’s going to hear you over the music.”
Maybe he’s right, but my optimistic side goes into power mode.
“All right, I’m going to scream, so cover your ears,” I warn. When he makes no move to do so, I open my mouth and shout. “Someone help us!”
Laughter bursts from Benton’s lips and the hairpin falls from his hand.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, frowning at him.
He shakes his head, collapsing onto the floor, his entire body shaking with laughter.
I nudge his leg with my foot, but not very hard. “Come on. Tell me why you’re laughing at me before I…” I can’t figure out what kind of threat to make, which only makes him laugh harder. “Fine. Don’t tell me.” I turn around, ready to go hang out near the toilet, which is about the farthest I can get away from him right now.
“Zhara wait.” He kneels up, catches the back of my shirt, and tows me back to him. “I’m not trying to laugh at you. It’s just that your scream… It was so… Well, it was like trying to watch a cute little bunny scream.”
I open my mouth to protest, but decide to tease him back because he’s smiling and he has a really nice smile. “So, you think bunnies are cute?”
He half shrugs. “Yeah. So what?”
I don’t know how to respond. How can the guy who has a reputation for getting into fights, for throwing the craziest parties, for sleeping around, just admit that fact so simply?
“Don’t you?” he teases with a grin as he picks up the hairpin he dropped.
I smile at him. “You should smile more often. It’s a good look for you.”
His smile instantly falters and that haunted look in his eyes returns times ten. Without saying a word, he goes back to picking the lock, seeming more determined than before.
I rack my brain, trying to figure out what I said wrong. He doesn’t like the fact that he was smiling? Why? Is being a bad boy that important to him? Doubtful. There has to be more to it than that.
I hop onto the counter and silently watch him fiddle with the lock until he gets so peeved off he snaps the hairpin in two.
“Feel better?” I ask him after his tizzy tantrum is over.
He glares at me. “You know, I liked it better when you were sweet and shy and afraid of me.”
“Oh.” My mouth sinks to a frown. He liked me better before I showed my true colors? Before I showed the real me?
He lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, okay?” He looks at me then grows more frustrated. “Zhara, I’m sorry. Please, just stop looking at me like that.”
Looking at him like what? I glance behind me at my reflection in the mirror, trying to figure out what he’s talking about. My eyes are bloodshot, my hair’s a mess, and I have a little bit of a scowl on my face, but other than that I look pretty much like I always do.
“I’d stop looking at you like that,” I say, turning back to him. “If I knew what you were talking about.”
