Reckless Driving (Feat. Ben Kessler) – Lizzy McAlpine
brows was almost non-existent as he kept his hazel eyes on me, his lips pressed together into thin questioning line. On instinct, I folded my arms tightly across my chest.
It was like an old fashioned western, two old rivals standing ten paces apart, their hands hovering over their guns, the tension growing like an elastic band being pulled tighter and tighter until it finally gave in and snapped.
“I guess congratulations are in order.” His words were sharp and jagged.
“So you were listening to my conversation?” It shouldn’t have surprised me. He’d always dug, always questioned what Rob and I discussed behind closed doors. But that didn’t stop the rage from boiling over.
He shrugged his shoulders. “Part of it.”
“So much for privacy.”
He let out a sharp breath. “When were you going to tell me you’d applied to another school, Olive?”
It was my turn to shrug, the motion careless and easy but the words were anything but. “When were you going to tell me he was your uncle, Bennett?”
He looked like I had smacked him in the face, his eyes dazed as he almost tumbled backwards, his body going rigid. I kept my jaw tight, my teeth gritted as I struggled to contain my rage.
“I-I didn’t think it mattered?”
I rolled my eyes. “You didn’t think it mattered we were going for the same job and he just so happened to be on the panel?”
“No,” he said simply.
“Bullshit,” I exploded, anger finally getting the better of me as I furiously pointed down to the ground. “It matters and you know it.”
“I’ve never received preferential treatment,” he said, shaking his head in frustration. I wanted to tear it from his body.
“And I’m supposed to take your word for it?”
“I never lied to you.”
“This counts as a lie Ben. You didn’t tell me.” I felt like I was explaining to a child what basic communication was, that omission was as good as a lie. The facts were clear, and yet he still denied it?
“It didn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“You’re leaving, and you never even warned me,” he said, voice breaking.
If he thought changing the subject would free him from having to explain himself, he was fucking wrong. I pushed past him, heading out of the lobby and into the freezing air. Predictably, he followed.
“That’s not the point, and you know it,” I quipped.
“But there’s no denying it.”
I shook my head, unable to even look at him. “Yes there is! I asked for time. I didn’t give her an answer.” He stared blankly at me, like I’d shot him between the eyes. “But you lied to me. You lied and you still won’t admit it.” I kept walking towards the bus, the frosty air stinging my cheeks.
“Olive.” His voice was pleading, and it was enough to make me stop, and turn to look at him.
His shoulders were slumped, his mouth parted as if he wanted to stay more, but couldn’t find the words. I wanted to forgive him, wanted to let this go, wanted it not to hurt anymore. But the trust between us had always been fragile, built out of nothing more than the necessity to work together.
We’d avoided talking about the job, knowing without saying that it would make existing together impossible. And me not getting the job was one thing, but for it to be his uncle on the panel, judging, pretending like he didn’t have any skin in the game. What’s to say he didn’t influence the group?
My voice was pleading, the anger turning to hurt. “Just tell me why.”
“I got my job on my own, I swear to God, Olive. You can ask Rob. Dane–he would never get involved like that.”
“That doesn’t explain why you wouldn’t tell me if you were so sure,” I said, voice cracking.
“You hated me!” he exploded. “You hated me for years. And what, I was supposed to hand you another reason to undercut me on a silver platter? You would have made it a problem, so I kept it to myself because it was nobody’s business.” He looked destroyed, running his hands through his hair as he tried to explain himself, trying to convince me.
“And what about this new job? I’m supposed to believe I wasn’t being set up to fail because you’re somebody’s nephew?”
“Yes, because that’s the truth of it,” he said, exasperated.
I sighed, wishing he’d admit it. If he just said the words then this rage could stop eating me up. It was exhausting, feeling this towards him when he was the only person who’d ever made me feel better. If I didn’t have him, who would be left? What would be left of me?
“I’m not an idiot, Ben,” I said, my voice tired and ragged, the words painful to admit. “I never had a chance at that job, and you knew it.”
“That had nothing to do with me.”
I tilted my head. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not saying anything. I mean it had nothing to do with who I’m related to, and everything to do with you.”
I let out a low groan. This couldn’t be easier for him. Just admit it! Just break and admit it.
“Are you seriously trying to turn this on me?” I asked in a low voice. I was seconds away from turning and walking away from him, my hands wrapped in tight fists.
“No,” he breathed, the word quiet as he shook his head slowly, his eyes closing for a moment. I swallowed, not sure if I needed to hear more, not sure if it was better to call this a day and leave.
“Olive, I’m sorry,” he said. “Maybe it was the wrong call not to tell you. I was… I was scared. I didn’t want you to think I hadn’t earned any of this. I’ve worked my ass off for years, and I’m fucking good at it. And if I get the job, it’s because I’ve put in the work. And I’m sorry you didn’t get it. You’d be great at it, and I can’t explain why you didn’t get it but it’s not because I have or because of who my uncle is.”
His words rattled me, but my head was already spinning.
I was feeling weaker and weaker, like I wanted to crawl into bed and never come out. “I feel like for months I’ve been telling you things about me and you’ve not told me a goddamn thing. I didn’t even know you were married until last night.”
“I’m not married, I’m divorced,” he blurted, clearly frustrated. “And… I hear you, I should’ve told you more. I’m sorry. I’ll try to be better, I promise.”
I held my breath. I promise. What did that mean anymore? For those words to mean anything at all I had to trust him. But he’d never felt more like a stranger.
“We should get back to the bus,” I said after a while, kicking the snow.
He narrowed his eyes on me, eyebrows furrowing together as he tried to read me. Finally, he nodded, agreeing with me but when he spoke, he didn’t move.
“Congratulations by the way,” he said, his voice soft. I looked up at him, slightly confused, and he stuffed his hands awkwardly into his front pockets. “On the new job. You really do deserve it.”
I tried to force a smile, but I struggled to find any real words to respond. Thankfully Ben let the subject drop. I felt empty, drained of all energy to fight my corner any longer. I watched him as he turned, leading us back to the bus. He had lied to me for months and knew I was applying for the job. He’d seen the signs but never bothered to say anything about his uncle. And somehow it wasn’t the lie, but the fact that now I didn’t know if I’d ever actually gotten to know him that hurt the most, if he’d ever actually let me in. If he ever would.
My heart was already a shattered mess, parts glued and taped together, it couldn’t take much else.
We sat in silence. I’d hoped he’d sit away from me, hoped he’d give me some space just to let it go, but when he slid into the seat beside me, I knew I’d expected too much. But at least he hadn’t tried to fill the silence. Almost nobody was talking all the way home.
We were all exhausted from the day, and it hit me all over again on the bus what had happened.
The clubs were over. There was no going back now; we’d made the bed, now it was time to lie in it. And honestly, in the moment, there was relief that came with it. Relief that the pressure was lifted, that I didn’t have this ‘what if’ hanging over my head. The decision about everything was made, and I was so tired of having to try and worry. I could finally relax.
Or maybe I was just finally all out of fight.
It was dark outside by the time the bus pulled into the school parking lot. It had taken us an hour longer with the weather, but we arrived safely. The bus creaked to a stop, and without having to say anything the students grabbed their belongings and disembarked. Ben got up first, saying thank you to the students and to the volunteers and wishing them a safe journey home. I followed but stayed quiet. I couldn’t think of anything reassuring to say, couldn’t think of any words that would make me feel better, let alone them.
As everyone made their way back to their cars, Ben turned to me.
“Can I walk you to your car?” he asked, his expression soft. I nodded and led him over to where I’d parked this morning. We walked in silence, the fresh snow crunching under our shoes. My stomach tightened nervously, weariness washing over me.
“Can I see you this weekend?” he asked. His question hung in the air, my body stiffening in reaction.
I swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in my throat. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Can I call at least? I want to know you’re okay.” He stopped walking, pausing to really look down at me then.
I held back a bitter laugh. Was I ever really okay anymore? Not without him around, but now I wasn’t even sure I wanted that.
“I think I need space. I need to think.”
He looked away, shaking his head. When he looked back, something had changed in his expression. “I’m really sorry, Olive. I never meant to hurt you. I was going to tell you; I was trying to find the right time.”
I sighed. “That’s the thing, Ben. I don’t know if there was a right time.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think all of this is a mistake. We knew what this was going into it. We agreed one night –” I stated, but he cut me off.
“It’s been more than one night now,” he said, his voice abrupt.
I paused, closing my eyes for a moment, the words painful to admit. “I know, and I think that was our mistake,”
“Mistake?” he repeated, getting worked up. I took in the hurt his eyes held. I fought the urge to reach out, to wrap my arms around his torso and pull him close–to feel his body against mine, the rising of his chest, his arms pulling me in. I wanted that feeling so badly, but I managed to fight the instinct and keep the distance between us.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to enact what I had decided on the journey home.
“I need some space, Ben. Please just give me that.”
He shook his head, his voice pleading as he ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to go back to the way things were. I don’t want to go back to passing you in the hallway and not even being able to say hello. Hell, I want more than hello. I want to stay for more than one night. I want to be there for you. I want to hold you. I want you in my life.”
I stood firm, listening to what he was saying but knowing I had to protect what was left of myself. This was too much, too heavy. Everything he wanted from me, I couldn’t give it. I didn’t have the energy. I barely had it to show up for work, let alone a relationship.
“If you wanted me, you shouldn’t have kept things from me,” I said firmly. “You put us in this position, kept me out while you kept burying into me. And now it feels like I don’t even know you.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but I cut him off before he could get the words out.
“So I need time. To think and to sort myself out. And so no, you can’t call. Let me go this weekend, and when I’m ready I’ll talk, okay?”
I kept eye contact with him, reading him as he steeled himself, as he finally listened to what I was asking for. Time–to think, to feel, to make a decision.
“Okay?” I repeated. I watched his jaw tense before he nodded slowly.
“Okay,” he agreed. “But if you need to talk…”
I pulled my keys from my pocket and unlocked my car. “I know, I’ll call if I need to,” I said as I pulled the driver’s door open.
He reached out and grabbed the top of the door. I knew then I wouldn’t call. I knew if I called him it would all be over for me.
He nodded at me, somewhat reassured by my agreement. I took in that last look of his face, my eyes scanning over his eyes, how soft his gaze was on me. His lips were perfect and pink, that jaw I loved to trace with my fingers sharp and smooth.
I thought I’d known who he was before. I thought he was the asshole at work that made my day hell. Somewhere along the line, he’d shown me a different side, started to help me, started to make me care and keep me going when things were hard. He’d been a shelter from the storm, made only for me.
What was he now that things were infinitely more complicated? That was up to me to figure out.
“I promise, I’ll call you when I’m ready,” I repeated, and I slid into the driver’s seat, waiting for him to let go of the door. I needed to get home and finally just feel everything.
He took a moment, before he finally lifted his hand from the door.
“Get home safe,” he said. I smiled softly, nodding before pulling the door closed. He stepped away, giving me space as I twisted the keys in the ignition and started the engine.
He watched as my car pulled out of the parking space, stepping out as I turned the corner. I kept glancing in the rearview mirror, watching him shrink into the distance, my heart squeezing tightly in my chest as he finally faded from view.
