Part 5 – Fifth November 9th
My flaws are draped in her mercy
Revered by her false perception
And with her lips upon my skin
She will undress my deception.
—BENTON JAMES KESSLER
Previously, when I would think about events in my life, I would organize those events chronologically in my mind as before the fire and after the fire.
I don’t do that anymore. Not because I’ve grown as a person. Quite the opposite, actually, because now I think about my life in terms of before Benton James Kessler and after Benton James Kessler.
Pathetic, I know. And even more so because it’s been exactly a year since we went our separate ways and I still think about him just as much as I did before after Benton James Kessler. But it’s not so easy to rid my thoughts of someone who had such an impact on my life.
I don’t wish ill on him. I never have. Especially after seeing how torn he was with his decision when we parted ways last year. I’m sure if I cried and begged him to choose me, he would have. But I would never want to be with anyone because I had to beg. I don’t even want to be with anyone if there’s even a remote possibility that there’s a third party at play. Love should be between two people, and if it isn’t, I’d rather bow out than take part in the race.
I’m not one to believe things happen for a reason, so I refuse to believe it was our fate not to end up together. If I believed that, then I’d have to believe it was fate for Kyle to die at such a young age. I’d much rather believe shit just happens.
Injured in a fire? Shit happens.
Lost your career? Shit happens.
Lost the love of your life to a widow with an infant? Shit happens.
The last thing I want to believe is that my fate has already been mapped out for me and I get no say in where or who I end up with. But if that’s the case and my life will turn out the same in the end¸ no matter what choices I make, then why does it matter if I leave my apartment tonight?
It doesn’t. But Amber seems to think it’s a big deal.
“You can’t stay here and mope,” she says, plopping down on the couch next to me.
“I’m not moping.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Am not.”
“Then why won’t you come out with us?”
“I don’t want to be a third wheel.”
“Then call Teddy.”
“Theodore,” I correct.
“You know I can’t call him Theodore with a straight face. That name should be reserved for members of the royal family.”
I wish she would get past his name. I’ve been out with him several times now and she still brings it up every time. She can see the irritation on my face, so she continues to defend herself.
“He wears pants with tiny, embroidered whales on them, Fallon. And the two times I’ve gone out with you guys, all he does is tell stories about being raised in Nantucket. But no one in Nantucket talks like a surfer, I can promise you that.”
She’s right. He talks about Nantucket like everyone should be jealous he’s from there. But besides that small quirk and his pretentious choice in pants, he’s one of the only guys I’ve been around that can take my mind off Ben for more than an hour.
“If you hate him as much as you seem to, why are you insisting I invite him out with us tonight?”
“I don’t hate him,” Amber says. “I just don’t like him. And I’d rather you come tonight with him than sit here and mope about how it’s November 9th and you aren’t spending it with Ben.”
“That’s not why I’m moping,” I lie.
“Maybe not, but at least we can both agree that you are moping.” She picks up my phone. “I’m texting Teddy to tell him to meet us at the club.”
“That’s going to be awkward for you and Glenn, considering I won’t even be there.”
“Hogwash. Get dressed. Wear something cute.”
• • •
She always wins. I’m here . . . at the club. Not at home, moping on my couch where I wish I could be.
And why did Theodore have to wear the pants with whales on them again? That just makes Amber the winner and right.
“Theodore,” Amber says, fingering the rim of her almost-empty drink. “Do you have a nickname or does everyone just call you Theodore?”
“Just Theodore,” he says. “My father is referred to as Teddy, so the nickname gets confusing if we both use it. Especially when we’re back in Nantucket around family.”
“Riveting,” she says, dragging her eyes over to me. “Want to walk to the bar with me?”
I nod and scoot out of the booth. As we make our way to the bar, Amber threads her fingers through mine and squeezes. “Please tell me you haven’t had sex with him.”
“We’ve only been out four times,” I tell her. “I’m not that easy.”
“You had sex with Ben on the third date,” she says in retort.
I hate that she brought up Ben, but I guess when you’re discussing your sex life, the only guy you’ve ever slept with is surely going to be part of the conversation.
“Maybe so, but that was different. We knew each other a lot longer than that.”
“You knew each other for three days,” she says. “You can’t count entire years when you only interacted once a year.”
We reach the bar. “Change of subject,” I say. “What do you want to drink?”
“Depends,” she says. “Are we drinking because we want to remember this night forever? Or because we want to forget the past?”
“Definitely forget.”
Amber turns to the bartender and orders four shots. When he puts them in front of us, we hold up the first shot and clink our glasses together.
“To waking up on November 10th and having no memory of the 9th,” she says.
“Cheers to that.”
We down the shots and then immediately follow those up with the next two. I don’t usually drink a lot, but I’ll do whatever it takes to speed up the night just so I can get it over with.
• • •
Half an hour passes and the shots have definitely done their job. I’m feeling good and buzzed, and I don’t even mind it that Theodore is being a little handsy tonight. Amber and Glenn left the booth a couple of minutes ago to hit the dance floor, and Theodore is telling me all about . . . shit. I have no idea what he’s talking about. I don’t think I’ve been listening to him at all.
Glenn slides back into the booth across from us and I try to stay focused on Theodore’s face so he’ll think I’m listening to him jabber about some fishing trip he takes with his cousin during summer solstice. When the hell is summer solstice, anyway?
“Can I help you?” Theodore says to Glenn, which is odd, considering he said it in an unpleasant tone. I turn to face Glenn.
Only . . . it’s not Glenn.
Brown eyes are staring back at me and I suddenly want to push Theodore’s hands off of me and crawl across the table.
Fuck you, fate. Fuck you to hell.
A slow smile spreads across Ben’s face as he returns his attention to Theodore. “Sorry to interrupt,” Ben says, “but I’m going from table to table, asking couples a few questions for a paper I’m working on for grad school. Do you mind if I ask you two a few?”
Theodore relaxes once he realizes Ben isn’t here to mark his territory. Or so he thinks. “Yeah, sure,” Theodore says. He reaches across the table to shake his hand. “I’m Theodore, this is Fallon,” he says, introducing me to the only man who has ever been inside me.
“Nice to meet you, Fallon,” Ben says, clasping my hand with both of his. He makes a quick brush of his thumbs over my wrist, and the contact of his skin on mine is scorching. When he releases my hand, I look down at my wrist, sure it left a mark.
“I’m Ben.”
I raise what I’m hoping comes off as an uninterested, lazy eyebrow. What in the world is he doing here?
Ben’s gaze slides from my eyes to my mouth, but then he focuses on Theodore. “So how long have you lived in Los Angeles, Theodore?”
So many things to process in my alcohol-riddled mind right now.
Ben is here.
Here.
And he’s probing my date for information.
“Most of my life. Going on twenty years, I guess.”
I glance at Theodore. “I thought you grew up in Nantucket.”
He shifts in his seat and laughs, squeezing my hand that’s resting on top of the table. “I was born there. Wasn’t raised there. We moved here when I was four.” He turns his attention back to Ben, and dammit, Amber wins again.
“So,” Ben says, pointing a finger back and forth between Theodore and me. “You two dating?”
Theodore puts his arm around me and pulls me against him. “Working on it,” he says, smiling down at me. But then he looks back at Ben. “These are oddly personal questions. What kind of paper are you writing?”
Ben pops his neck with his hand. “I’m studying the probability of soul mates.”
Theodore chuckles. “Soul mates? That’s graduate-level work? God help us.”
Ben raises an eyebrow. “You don’t believe in soul mates?”
Theodore wraps his arm around me and leans back in his seat. “Are you saying you do? Have you met your soul mate?” Theodore glances around the room half-jokingly. “Is she here with you tonight? What’s her name? Cinderella?”
My eyes slowly make the journey to Ben’s. I’m not sure I want to hear her name yet. He’s eyeing me hard, trading glances with the fingers that are sliding up and down my arm.
“She’s not here with me,” Ben says. “In fact, I was actually stood up by her today. Waited for over four hours but she never showed.”
His words are like icicles. Beautiful and sharp as a knife. I swallow the lump in my throat.
He actually showed up? Even after I told him last year I wasn’t coming? His words are doing too many things to me right now, and it feels all wrong since I’m sidled up next to a guy I wish would stop touching me.
“What girl is worth waiting four hours for?” Theodore says with a laugh.
Ben leans back in his seat, but I’m eyeing his every movement. “Just this one,” he says quietly, to no one in particular. Or maybe his words were only meant for me.
Speaking of Amber. Or maybe I wasn’t speaking of Amber, I can’t remember now that Ben is here and my brain isn’t functioning properly. But Amber is back.
My eyes grow wide when I look up at her. She’s looking between me and Ben like one of us is a mirage. I totally get it, because I feel the same way. Might just be the alcohol, though. I shake my head and widen my eyes to let her know not to acknowledge that she knows Ben. Hopefully she understands my silent instructions.
Glenn is walking up behind her and I try to do the same with him, but as soon as he reaches the booth, he smiles and yells, “Ben!” He slides in next to him and throws an arm around him like he’s just found his best friend.
Yeah, Glenn’s drunk.
“You know this guy?” Theodore says, pointing at Ben.
Glenn starts to point at me, and that’s when he sees the look on my face. Good thing he’s not too drunk to decipher it. “Ummm . . .” He stutters. “We . . . um. We met earlier. In the bathroom.”
Theodore chokes on his drink. “You met in the bathroom?”
I take the opportunity to slide out of the booth, in desperate need of a break. This is way too much.
“Want me to come with you?” Amber asks, grabbing my elbow.
I shake my head. I think we both know I’m hoping Ben follows me so he can explain what the hell he’s doing here.
I walk quickly toward the bathroom, slightly embarrassed by how fast I just made a break for it. It’s funny how a grown adult can just forget how to function properly in the presence of someone else. But I feel like my insides are so hot, they’re beginning to scorch my bones. My cheeks are warm. My neck is warm. Everything is warm. I need to splash water on my face.
I walk into the bathroom and even though I don’t need to pee, I do anyway. I’m wearing a skirt that Amber forced me to put on and it’s so easy to use the bathroom when you’re in a skirt, it’s stupid not to take advantage of the opportunity. Besides, I’m pretty sure I’m getting a cab home right after I punch Ben in the face, so I might as well use the restroom while I’m here.
Why am I justifying the fact that I’m peeing?
Maybe because I really know all I’m doing is wasting time. I’m not sure I want to step out of the bathroom yet.
As I’m washing my hands, I notice how bad they’re shaking. I take several calming breaths while I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Looking in the mirror now is a lot different than it was before I met Ben. I don’t obsess over my flaws like I used to. The occasional insecurities are still there, but thanks to Ben, I’ve learned to accept myself for who I am and be grateful that I’m alive. Part of me hates that he gets some of the credit for my confidence, because I want to hate him. My life would be so much easier if I could hate him, but the guy is hard to hate when he’s had such a positive impact on my life. It’s the negative impact he’s had on my life for the past year that makes me appreciate Amber for forcing me to make an effort tonight with my appearance. I’m wearing a slinky purple top that brings out the green in my eyes, and my hair has grown a few inches since last year. At least Ben is seeing this version of me rather than the version of me that was moping on the couch two hours ago. I don’t want to exact revenge on the guy, but it would be nice if, when he looks at me, he feels as though he missed out. I would feel a little vindicated that he fell in love with another girl if I knew he was experiencing a few pangs of regret.
So many questions run through my mind as I finish up at the sink. Why isn’t he here with Jordyn? Did they break up? Why is he even here? How did he know I’d be here? Or did he just show up by chance? And what was he expecting when he went to that restaurant today, hoping I’d be there?
My reflection reveals no answers, so I make the brave journey to the bathroom exit, knowing he’s probably out there somewhere. Waiting.
No sooner than I have the bathroom door open, a hand grips my arm and pulls me further down the hallway, away from the crowd. I don’t even have to look at him to know it’s him. My whole body feels the familiar hum of electricity that moves between us anytime we’re together.
My back is against a wall, hands are beside my head, his eyes are boring into mine. “How serious is it with Whale Pants back there?”
Dammit if he doesn’t make me laugh right off the bat. I groan. “I hate those pants.”
A crooked, smug grin spreads across his face, but as soon as it appears, it disappears, replaced by a flicker of disappointment. “Why didn’t you show up today?” he asks.
I can no longer tell a difference between the beat of my heart and the base of the music. They’re in perfect sync, one no louder than the other, thanks to Ben’s proximity.
“I told you last year I wasn’t going to show up today.” I glance down the hallway, toward the club. It’s dark back here, past the bathrooms, past the people. Somehow, in a building full of warm bodies, we have complete privacy. “How did you know I’d be here tonight?”
He gives his head a dismissive shake. “The answer to that question isn’t nearly as significant as the answer to mine. How serious is it with this guy?”
His voice is low, his face close to mine. I can feel warmth radiating from his skin. It’s hard to concentrate in this kind of distracting environment.
“I forgot what question you just asked me.” I sway a little bit, but his fingers splay out against my hip and he steadies me.
He narrows his eyes. “Are you drunk?”
“Tipsy. Big difference. How’s Jordyn?” I don’t know why I say her name with spite. I don’t harbor any resentment toward her. Okay, maybe just a little bit. But not much, because Oliver is such a cute kid and it’s hard to be mad at someone who can make such a cute kid.
Ben sighs, glancing away for a split second. “Jordyn is fine. They’re good.”
Good. Good for them. Good for him and Oliver and their adorable fucking little family.
“That’s nice, Ben. I need to get back to my date.” I try to push past him, but he leans in closer, sandwiching me against the wall. His forehead meets the side of my head. He lets out a sigh and feeling the breath fall from his lips and rush through my hair forces me to squeeze my eyes shut.
“Don’t be like that,” he whispers into my ear. “I’ve been through hell today trying to find you.”
I cringe from the way his words twist my stomach into knots. He slides his arms around me and pulls me into him. He feels stronger. More defined. Even more like a man this year. I’m stiff against him as I ask my next question. “Are you still with her?”
He looks crestfallen as he says, “You know me better than that, Fallon. If I had a girlfriend, I certainly wouldn’t be standing here trying to convince you to come home with me.” He studies my face for a reaction, scrolling over each of my features with desire-filled eyes. I try not to notice, but he’s pressed against me, my thigh firm between both of his legs. It’s obvious by the scorching hardness pressed against my thigh that the look in his eyes is genuine.
Feeling him like this again—his mouth dangerously close to mine—reminds me of the night I spent with him. The only night I’ve ever allowed a man to completely consume me, heart, body, and soul—and the thought of what he was able to do to me that night almost forces me to whimper.
But I’m stronger than my hormones. I have to be. I can’t go through another heartbreak like the one I’m still healing from. The wounds are still so fresh, it’s as if he’s clawing them open with his bare hands.
“Come home with me,” he whispers.
No. No, no, no, Fallon.
I shake my head back and forth with immense effort in order to ensure I don’t accidentally nod. “No, Ben. No. This past year has been the hardest year of my life. You can’t expect me to just fall back into step with you because you showed up here tonight.”
He runs the backs of his fingers across my cheekbone. “I don’t expect that, Fallon. But I do pray for it. Every night, down on my knees, to any God who will listen.”
His words feel like they penetrate the walls of my chest and all the air is let out of my lungs. I close my eyes when his breath grazes my jaw. He’s taking advantage of the privacy and my weakness and I want to punch him for it, but first I just need to know if he tastes the same. If his tongue still moves the same way. If he still touches me like it’s a privilege.
I’m being supported by a wall behind me and Ben in front of me, but still, when his hand drops to my thigh and his fingers begin slowly raking up my skirt, I feel like I’m about to crash straight to the floor. There’s so much that needs to be discussed between us, but for whatever reason, my body wants my mouth to stay shut so his hand will continue moving. I’ve missed his touch so much, and even though I’ve made the effort to go out and try to get over Ben, I’m not sure I could ever find this kind of physical connection with another person. No one makes me feel as desirable as Ben does. I’ve missed it. The way he looks at me, the way he touches me, the way he makes it feel as if my scars are an improvement rather than a flaw. It’s hard to say no to this feeling, no matter how hurt I’ve been over what transpired last year.
“Ben,” I whisper, not so much in protest as I intended for his name to sound. He buries his face against my neck and breathes me in, and I forget everything I was about to protest. My head drops back against the wall, and then his hand slides around to the back of my thigh. His fingers graze the edge of my panties and when I feel them slip just beneath the hem, my whole body shudders. I’m forced to bury my face against his shoulder and grip the back of his shirt just to keep myself upright. All he did was touch my ass and I feel like I can’t even stand upright anymore. I should be embarrassed.
He pulls back, just a little bit, so that he can glance over his shoulder. I don’t know who or what he’s looking for, but when he sees no one is behind us, he reaches to the right of me—to a door. He pulls on the handle and it relents. Ben doesn’t waste a second. He grabs me by the waist and pushes me toward the door, into the dark room, and then the door closes behind us, muffling the sound of the music.
Now I can hear how hard I’m breathing. Panting, really. But so is he. I can hear him right in front of me, but I can’t see him. I hear him feeling around the room. It’s pitch black, and the absence of the wall behind me and him in front of me makes me feel empty.
But then his hands are back on my waist. “Storage room,” he says, pushing me until my back is to the door. “Perfect.” And then I feel his breath against my lips, followed closely by his mouth as it brushes against mine. As soon as I feel it—the surge of electricity that shoots from his mouth to every nerve in my body—I push against his chest.
“Stop,” I tell him, my voice louder than it’s been all night thanks to the distance from the music. His hand is right back where it was before . . . grazing the edge of my panties . . . forcing my eyes shut like it would even make a difference in here.
“I’m trying,” he whispers, threading the hand that isn’t up my skirt through the strands of my hair. He grips the nape of my neck. “Ask me again.”
I open my mouth to say it again, but I’m met with heat and tongue and lips that know just how to make it all work together. Instead of the word stop coming at him, all he gets is a moan and a hand in his hair, pulling, pushing, indecisive.
He pushes against me, his leg between both of mine. He’s kissing me so hard, my mind is still wrapped around all the ways his tongue can move before I even notice his hand has moved around to the front of my thigh. And I know I should stop him. I should push him away and make him explain himself, but his hand feels too good for that right now. My legs tense and I grip the sleeve of his shirt with one hand while I pull on his hair with the other hand, tearing him away from my mouth so I can breathe. I take in one deep breath before he’s back on my mouth, even hungrier than before.
And his hand. Oh, God, his fingers are slowly tracing up the front of my panties. I moan again. Twice. He puts just enough space between our mouths so that he can listen to me gasp as he slides his hand down the front of my panties.
My knees grow weak. I’m not sure I knew my body was capable of feeling these kinds of things. I think I just fell in love with my body a little bit more.
“Jesus, Fallon,” Ben says, stroking me, breathing heavily against my mouth. “You’re so wet.”
As delicious as it feels to hear that, I can’t help but laugh out loud. When I do, I quickly slap my hand over my mouth, but it’s already too late. He heard my laughter in the midst of the most mind-blowing act of seduction I’ve ever been a part of.
He drops his forehead to the side of my head and I hear him laughing quietly. His mouth rests against my ear and I swear I can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “God, I’ve missed you so damn much.”
That one sentence affects me more than anything he’s said all night, and I don’t know if it’s because it felt like the old Fallon and Ben for a second, or if it’s because he removes his hand and wraps his arms around me, pulling me into one of his soul-crushing embraces. His forehead rests against mine, and I almost wish he would have kept going with the physical stuff, because that’s way easier than the emotional stuff.
As good as it feels to be back in his arms again, I’m scared I’m screwing up. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I should let him back into my life so easily, because the getting together part should be just as hard as the letting go part and this feels way too easy for him. I need time, I think. I don’t know. I don’t feel capable of making this kind of decision right now.
“Fallon,” he says, his voice low.
“Yeah?” I breathe out.
“Come home with me. I want to talk to you, but I don’t want to do it here.”
We’re back to this again. It makes me wonder if he’s being so persistent because there’s only a few hours left of November 9th and he wants to make the most of it, or if he wants me on all the other days, too.
I feel behind me for the door handle. When I find it, I push against Ben’s chest and pull the door open. When I slip outside, his hand is on my right elbow and someone else grasps my left elbow. I gasp, just as my eyes meet Amber’s.
“I was looking for you,” she says. “What are you doing in . . .” Her question comes to a halt when she sees Ben walk out behind me. And then, “Sorry to interrupt this reunion, but Teddy is worried about you.”
She’s looking at me like she’s disappointed in my decision to be making out in a dark closet with Ben while my date is in the same building, and Oh, my God, now that I think about it, that’s a really shit thing to do.
“Crap!” I say. “I have to get back to the table.”
Ben makes a face like that’s the last thing he expected to come out of my mouth.
“Good choice,” Amber says, eyeing Ben.
He can find me later. I have to get back to the table before Theodore realizes how pathetic I am. I follow Amber back to the booth, but luckily it’s loud enough that I can’t understand anything she’s saying. I can tell she’s lecturing me, though. We no more than slide back into our booth when Ben pulls up a chair and plops it down at the end of the table. He takes a seat and folds his arms in front of him.
Theodore puts his arm around my shoulders and leans in. “You okay?”
I force a quick smile and a nod, but I give him nothing more, considering Ben looks like he’s about to crawl over the table and rip Theodore’s arm away from my body.
I adjust myself so that Theodore doesn’t think I’m reciprocating his affection. I lean forward, away from his arm, as if I have something I want to say to Amber. Just as I open my mouth, Ben’s hand strokes my knee beneath the table. My eyes swing to Ben’s and he shoots me an innocent look.
Luckily, Glenn steals Theodore’s attention, so he doesn’t notice when my entire body tenses. Ben begins to rake his fingers up my thigh, so I reach beneath the table and flick his hand away. He smiles and leans back in his seat.
“So,” Amber says, turning her attention toward Ben. “Since we all just met you fifteen minutes ago and know absolutely nothing about you, since we’ve never been around you before, because we’re all complete strangers, why don’t you tell us about yourself? What do you do? Theodore says you’re a writer? Are you writing anything interesting? A love story, maybe? How’s that going?”
I kick Amber under the table. Could she be more obvious?
Ben laughs, and now that Amber just spat out the most random question in the world, Theodore and Glenn are both staring at Ben, waiting for him to answer.
“Well,” Ben says, straightening up in his seat. “As a matter of fact, yes. I am a writer. I’ve had a really bad case of writer’s block this year, though. Really terrible. Haven’t written a single word in 365 days. But oddly enough, I think I just had a major breakthrough a few minutes ago.”
“Imagine that,” Amber says, rolling her eyes.
I lean forward, deciding to join in on this cryptic conversation. “You know, Ben. Writer’s block can be a tricky thing. Just because you had a breakthrough a few minutes ago doesn’t mean it’s permanent.”
He pretends to give my comment a moment of thought, but then he shakes his head. “No. No, I know a breakthrough when I have one. And I’m certain that what I experienced a few minutes ago was one of the most mind-blowing breakthroughs known to man.”
I raise an eyebrow. “There’s a fine line between confidence and cockiness.”
Ben matches my expression as his hand returns to my leg under the table, causing me to stiffen. “Well then, I’m straddling that line like it’s the thigh of a long-legged brunette.”
Oh, dear God those words.
Glenn laughs, but Theodore leans forward to get Ben’s attention. “I have an uncle back in Nantucket who had a book published. It’s a pretty hard thing to—”
“Theodore,” Ben says, interrupting him. “You seem like a . . . nice guy.”
“Thanks,” Theodore says, smiling.
“Let me finish,” Ben says, holding up a finger in warning. “Because you’re about to hate me. I lied. I’m not writing a paper.” He points at Glenn. “This guy told me earlier today where to show up tonight so that I could find the girl I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with. And I’m sorry, but that girl just so happens to be your date. And I’m in love with her. Like, really in love with her. Crippling, debilitating, paralyzing love. So please accept my sincerest apologies, because she’s coming home with me tonight. I hope. I pray.” Ben shoots me an endearing look. “Please? Otherwise this speech will make me look like a complete fool and that won’t be good when we tell our grandkids about this.” He holds out his hand for me to take, but I’m as frozen in place as poor Theodore is.
Glenn covers his mouth, trying to hide his drunken laughter. Amber is actually speechless for once.
“What the fuck?” Theodore says. Before I can move out of his way, Theodore is reaching over me, grabbing the collar of Ben’s shirt, pulling him closer so that he can choke him or punch him or . . . I’m not sure what he’s doing, but I duck and crawl out of the booth so I’m not in the middle of it. When I turn around, Theodore is on his knees in the booth with Ben in a headlock over the table. Ben is grasping at Theodore’s arm, trying to pull it away from his throat. His eyes are wide and he’s looking straight at me.
“You fucking prick!” Theodore yells.
Ben lets go of Theodore’s arm with one hand and crooks his finger at me, wanting me to come closer. I take a hesitant step forward, not sure what to do to get him out of this mess. When I’m about two feet from them, Ben struggles to speak. “Fallon,” he says, still clawing at the arm that’s wrapped around his neck. “Are you . . . are you gonna come home with me or not?”
Oh, my God. He’s relentless. And he’s being pulled away from Theodore’s chokehold by two bouncers who are intervening. But now both Ben and Theodore are being escorted outside, and Amber, Glenn, and I are following after them. Before we reach the door, Amber punches Glenn in the shoulder.
“You told Ben where we were gonna be tonight?” she hisses.
Glenn rubs his arm. “He showed up at our apartment today looking for Fallon.”
Amber scoffs. “So you just told him where she would be? Why would you do that?”
“He’s funny!” Glenn says, as if that’s a legit defense.
Amber glances over her shoulder at me with an apologetic look. I don’t tell her there’s nothing to feel bad about. So far, I’m kind of glad Glenn told Ben where I’d be tonight. It makes me feel good to know that he waited at the restaurant for four hours and then went looking for me at my old apartment, hoping Amber and Glenn still lived there. It’s a little bit flattering, even though it still doesn’t make up for what he put me through.
As soon as we’re outside, I immediately walk over to Theodore, who is pacing the pavement with a pissed-off look in his eye. He stops when he sees me standing in front of him and he points in Ben’s direction. “Is that true?” he says. “Are the two of you like . . . fuck, I don’t know. What are you? Dating? Exes? Do I even fit in the picture or am I wasting my goddamn time?”
I shake my head, completely at a loss. I don’t know how to answer that, because I honestly don’t know where I stand with Ben. But I do know where I stand with Theodore, so I guess I’ll start there.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I swear, before tonight I haven’t spoken to him in a year. I don’t want you to think I was seeing both of you at the same time, but . . . I’m sorry. Maybe I just need some time to figure it out, I guess.”
Theodore cocks his head, as if he’s shocked by what he just heard. “Figure it out?” He shakes his head. “I don’t have time for this shit.” He starts to walk in the opposite direction, but he’s still within earshot when he mutters, “You aren’t even that pretty.”
I’m still processing the insult when I see Ben sprint past me. Before my eyes can even adjust, his fist is flying. I see Glenn rush to intervene, but . . . wait. No. Glenn also punches Theodore.
Luckily, the bouncers never even made it back inside and all three of them are separated before anyone is seriously injured. Theodore is struggling to break free from one of the bouncers and he’s yelling obscenities at Ben the entire time. Meanwhile, Amber is standing next to me, steadying herself on a parking meter while she unfastens one of her heels.
“I want every one of you to leave the premises right now before we call the police!” one of the bouncers yells.
“Hold on,” Amber says, holding up a finger while she pulls off her shoe. “I’m not finished.” She takes her shoe in her hand and glowers at Theodore, then rears back and throws it across the sidewalk, hitting him square between the legs. “I hate your stupid pants, asshole!” she yells. “Fallon deserves better than you, and SO DOES NANTUCKET!”
Wow. Go, Amber.
The bouncer holding Theodore asks him where his car is parked. He escorts Theodore in that direction as Amber retrieves her shoe. Ben and Glenn aren’t released until the bouncer returns without Theodore. “The four of you. Leave. Now.”
As soon as the bouncer releases Ben’s arms, he runs straight toward me, taking my face in his hands, inspecting me to see if I’m hurt. Or maybe he’s checking my emotions, I don’t know. Either way, he looks worried. “Are you okay?”
I can tell by the soothing sound of his voice that he’s worried Theodore hurt my feelings. “I’m fine, Ben. That guy’s insults about my appearance don’t carry much weight when he willingly wears those pants.”
I can see the relief in Ben’s smile as he kisses me on the forehead.
“Did you bring a car?” Glenn asks, directing his question at Ben. Ben nods and says, “Yeah. I’ll give the two of you a ride home.”
“The three of you,” I say to Ben, insinuating that just because he stood up for me doesn’t mean I’m automatically going home to his place. “I’ll need you to drop me off at my apartment.”
Amber groans and then brushes my shoulder as she passes. “Just forgive him already,” she says. “Glenn found a member of the male species he actually likes, and if you don’t forgive Ben you’ll break Glenn’s heart.”
Ben and Glenn are both quietly staring at me. Glenn is giving me puppy dog eyes and Ben’s bottom lip is protruding.
I can’t even. I shrug my shoulder in defeat. “Well, then. I guess if Glenn likes you, then that’s that. I have to go home with you.”
Ben doesn’t even break eye contact with me when he holds out a stretched arm toward Glenn, his hand in a fist. Glenn bumps it and then they drop their arms, never saying a word.
As I pass Ben and head for the parking lot, I narrow my eyes at him and point. “You have a lot of explaining to do, though. A lot. And even more groveling.”
“I’m very capable of both of those things,” Ben says, following after me.
“And you have to cook me breakfast,” I add. “I like well-done bacon and over-easy eggs.”
“Got it,” Ben says. “Explain myself, then grovel, then Nakey-nakey, eggs, and bakey.” He puts his arm around my shoulder and redirects me to his car. He opens the passenger door for me, but before he climbs inside, he cups my face and presses his lips to mine. When he pulls back, I’m shocked by how much emotion is in his expression after the ridiculousness of the past fifteen minutes. “You won’t regret this, Fallon. I promise.”
I hope not.
He kisses me on the cheek and waits for me to climb inside his car.
Hands grasp my shoulders from behind and Glenn’s face appears next to mine from the backseat. “I promise, too,” he says, giving me a loud smack on the cheek.
As we pull out of the parking lot, I stare out my window because I don’t want the three of them to see the tears in my eyes.
Because yes, hearing Theodore insult me didn’t only hurt my feelings—it was easily one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. But knowing these three defended me without a second thought almost makes the insult worth it.
