Page 81 of A Good Book

After cleaning up, dressing, and fixing my hair, I returned to his room. Ben was back in his jeans and a clean shirt, sitting on the edge of his bed. The anguish on his face pierced my heart.

I sat at his desk and wrote him a note.

That’s not the look I expected. You sure know how to make a girl feel like a regret.

Ben offered a barely believable smile. “I would never regret being with you.”

Then what’s wrong?

He furrowed his brow. “I’m not him.”

“Who?” I signed with a shrug.

“Matt.”

I frowned.

“Be honest.” He eyed me. “Can you say he’s no longer the man of your dreams?”

Matt and I are just friends.

“Yeah?” He laughed. “We were just friends too.”

I set the pen and paper aside then straddled Ben’s lap, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“I have nothing to offer you.” He broke my heart with those six words.

Where was my confident friend?

I pecked at his lips, keeping my eyes open. Then I sucked on his bottom lip, teasing it with my teeth.

Ben pulled away, but not without relinquishing a grin. “Did it hurt?”

I twisted my lips and shrugged while holding my thumb and index finger an inch apart.

“I’m sorry.”

I shook my head. Ben released a long sigh with worry lines on his forehead and indecision in his eyes. Why the agony? I took off my clothes. I did the thing. Eve would be proud. So why did Ben look tortured? What else could I have done, short of becoming Jesus and healing his body?

“I’m so confused, Gabby. I feel lost and angry. My mom calls it the stages of grief because a part of me feels lost forever. ButI’mnot dead, so why can’t I see the light? Every tiny piece of joy or reprieve is temporary. It’s like I’m falling and hitting branches of a tree that slow my descent, but only temporarily before I fall again. Rock bottom feels inevitable. The gravity of what has happened is stronger than anything or anyone. And I …” He shook his head.

I opened my mouth to speak, but clamped it shut and slid off his lap to write him a message. Losing his hearing made me second-guess everything. There was no spontaneity, no saying the first thing that popped into my head. Every thought filtered through my mind, assaulted by doubt, a victim of overthinking.

I’m sorry you feel so lost. I can only imagine. What do you need?

Since he lost it with me over Thanksgiving, I tried to keep my concerns solely on him and not make anything seem like it was about me, even though I felt desperate for reassurance that we didn’t just destroy our friendship by crossing a line.

Ben slowly shook his head. Of course, he didn’t know what he needed. Had he known, he would have already been doing it.

“Go back to school and forget about me.”

My head reared back. “What?”

I can’t forget about you. We just had sex!

Ben read the note with no expression, no emotion. Maybe having sex over thirty times with multiple women made him calloused to it, like just another daily activity. Nothing special.

My heart deflated.

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