Page 8 of A Good Book

“You t-think”—my sides hurt from him digging his fingers into them and laughing so hard—“‘Chopsticks’ is a ballad.”

“Take it back,” he said with his mouth at my ear as we rolled one way and then the other, making a tangled mess of Olivia’s bedding. “Say it.”

My joking about wetting my pants turned into a real possibility, so I had to say “uncle” first. “Fine! You’re a stud.”

“I can’t hear you.”

My body jerked to get away, but he was too strong. “AHH!” I squealed. “YOU’RE A STUD!”

In the next breath, he released me, and I rolled to sit up, only to find Olivia at the door with her mouth agape. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to”—she shook her head, confusion stealing her face—“I can come back later, if you need to finish.”

“What?” I jumped to my feet and straightened my clothes before combing my fingers through my hair. “No. There’s nothing to finish. Nothing going on.”

Olivia’s gaze ticked between Ben and me. “Well, just so you know, everyone on the floor has their heads poking out of their rooms because it sounded like you were getting nailed pretty hard, if you know what I mean. You’re lucky our RA left for dinner. Dude, I could hear you with my Walkman on.” She set her yellow Walkman and headphones on her desk.

I slapped a hand over my mouth, and Ben had the nerve to snicker. It wasn’t funny. I had never been so much as kissed by a boy, and thanks to my obnoxious best friend, all the girls on my floor thought I was a loud hussy having sex in my dorm room with a real stud.

“I want to die,” I whispered, dropping my hand from my mouth.

Ben stood, tightening the drawstring to his sweatpants as if we had done something. I cringed, meeting his unaffected gaze before shifting my attention to Olivia, who tucked her hands into her hoodie pocket. Her expression was hard to decipher, so I didn’t read into it.

“He was tickling me because he’s mean and he’s an idiot. That’s why he doesn’t have a girlfriend, and he’ll most likely die alone as an eighty-year-old conductor.”

“Why do you have me only living to be eighty?” Ben asked.

I groaned and grabbed his arm, dragging him out of my dorm room. As soon as we stepped into the hallway, a cascade of doors clicked shut. Olivia was right; we’d attracted a crowd.

“If you ever embarrass me like that again, I swear I will find a new best friend.” I rubbed my hands over my face and shook my head. When I peeked at Ben between my spread fingers, he beamed with a goofy smile.

“Gabbs, you were the one who was screaming. And I have to admit, I never imagined you’d be a screamer, but it oddly fits you.”

“Shut up!” I shoved him.

Ben cackled while hugging me so I wouldn’t shove him again. “Should I warn Matt?”

I wriggled my way out of his hold. “Go shower. You will never be in the same room as Matt.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You can’t be trusted, Benjamin Ashford. You know too many embarrassing things about me.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, mirroring and towering over me. “I’m the keeper of all your secrets. That’s like saying Fort Knox cannot be trusted.”

“Trusting you with my secrets is not the same as trusting you to preserve my dignity.”

“Dignity is overrated, homegirl. See ya for breakfast.” Ben sauntered past me, riding his usual wave of confidence.

I wanted a fraction of such self-assurance. He never cared what anyone thought of him. Boys in school called him Cro-Magnon because of his size and the full beard he grew our senior year. But the comments never phased him. He brushed them off like a horse, swatting its tail at a fly.

Matt would surely fall for me if I could muster Benjamin Ashford’s level of confidence.

Olivia pinned me with a hard gaze the second I stepped back into the dorm room. “So that’s how this is going to go, huh? I’m interested in Ben and you suddenly decide to show interest in him too?”

“Stop.” I waved her off. “He’s obnoxious. The brother I never had. And I’m feeling grateful that God didn’t give me a brother because being pestered all the time is exhausting.”

Olivia changed into shorts and a tee, her go-to pajamas, and pulled her hair into a ponytail. “So you put in a good word for me then, right? Is he down with the idea of us going out?”

“Of course I put in a good word. But I don’t know if he’ll ask you out,” I mumbled, finding my favorite baby-blue nightshirt with pink hearts and a pair of white sweats to wear from our room to the shared bathrooms down the hallway.

“What did you say?”

“I said you were interested in him, but not in anything serious.”

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