Page 117 of When Ben Loved Tim
Tim glowers, like he hates my guts, but I refuse to believe it. Not for one second.
“Is that what you came over here to do?” I ask softly. “Do you really want this to end? Because I don’t. I love you too much.”
His eyes fill with affection before his face crumbles.
“Hey!” I say, reaching for him.
The strength seems to drain from Tim as I pull him close. He clings to me with so much desperation that I ache for him.
“We fucked up,” he croaks. “It’s all ruined.”
“It’s not!” I pull back to look him in the eye. “We can make this work.”
Tim is shaking his head. I place my hand on his cheek to stop the motion.
“It’ll be all right. I promise. We’ll go back to the way things were. Okay?”
Tim swallows and nods. Then he wraps his arms tighter around me, like he’s holding on for dear life, and I wish I could protect him from the world. But that’s not possible. I need him to find his courage, because no matter how strong I try to be for him, this is a battle that can only be fought from the inside. If he succeeds in overcoming his fear, we’ll be unstoppable. Otherwise, this might be the beginning of the end.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Put your head in my lap.”
The words sound romantic. At one time I would have been thrilled to hear them. But not now, so I turn my attention to the passenger-side window and don’t respond.
“Seriously,” Tim says. “Someone might see you.”
I roll my eyes and maintain my silence. Things have gotten so much worse since the dinner with his parents. His paranoia has reached an all-time high. Tim doesn’t want me to sneak over anymore. Staying the night at my place is deemed—by him—as too risky, which has left precious little opportunity to see each other. I talked him into going with me to an art museum downtown, hoping that would capture his attention, but he spent most of the day looking over his shoulder. Now he’s driving us home. Or was. The car slows and begins to pull over.
“You’ve gotta hide,” he says. “Krista’s house is—”
“I know where she fucking lives!” I snap before leaning my seat all the way back.
I glare at the fabric that lines the roof of his car, counting the turns until I know we’re on my street. Then I sit upright and watch my house go by as Tim drives around the block to park.
“Sorry,” he says. “But you know why.”
I try to set my frustration aside. I don’t want to be angry with him. “Are you going to come in?”
Tim licks his lips nervously, like I’ve just invited him to go swimming with sharks. “Is anyone home?”
“I’m not sure.” Need rises up in me, even though I try swallowing against it. “But we could go up to my room.”
Tim looks me over, taking a few deep breaths. “Okay. I’ll uh…” He glances around the neighborhood. “I’ll meet you there. Okay?”
I don’t answer. I just get out and start walking. I hate this. And I love him. I’m not sure how to reconcile the two, but there has to be a way.
“Mom?” I shout when entering my house. “Dad?”
No response.
“Hey, Karen!” I yell. “Something really embarrassing just happened to me!”
I know she’s not home, or intentionally ignoring me, because there’s no way she could resist that bait.
“It’s all ours,” I say when opening the front door to let Tim inside.
“No shit?” he asks.
