Page 62 of Off Script
Reappearing next to me, oblivious to my internalized panic, Ben shrugs on an oversized hoodie, pulls the hood up over his head, and slips on a pair of designer sunglasses.
Under the watchful stares of the flight attendant and captain, Ben bends down to squeeze my upper arm and perfunctorily kiss my cheek. I stay seated, unsure of how to say goodbye to him when it feels like he’s already said goodbye to me and to our relationship.
As Ben deplanes, he turns and looks in my direction one final time before he bolts without another word. Because of his dark glasses, I can’t see his eyes though, so I don’t know how to interpret hisglance.
Hell, I don't know how to interrupt anything that has happened between us today.
After he’s gone, I squeeze my eyes shut to stem the flow of tears threatening to spill. I don’t know what has changed between us in the past few hours, but something seismic has shifted, opening a growing chasm that I can’t seem to cross.
Rummaging through my bag, I take out an Ole Miss baseball hat and pull it down low, concealing as much of my face as possible. When the flight attendant begins the cleaning process, I nod my thanks and exit the plane.
Several hundred yards ahead of me, a swarm of paparazzi and fans surround Ben and a small cadre of airport security, like sharks circling their prey.
Inconspicuously, I walk to the taxi stand and grab a cab without any fuss.
Dropping my bag on the floor of my bedroom, I plop down onto my bed and fall into a deep sleep. After staying up late last night and then indulging in several mimosas on the plane today, I’m wiped out.
When I wake up hours later, the slanted angle of the muted sunlight filtering in through my window indicates that it’s already early evening. I sit up in a daze, blinking away the sleep from my eyes.
“Carlisle!” Harper shouts my name as our front door slams closed. Her arrival must have been what roused me from my sleep.
“In here,” I call groggily, hopping up from my bed. My head pounds and I rub my temples. The mimosas are coming back to bite me. I need water and food.
Hugging me tightly, she squeals, “Hey Barbie, how’s Ken?”
I almost smile at her joke. “Ugh, don’t remind me.” For those few moments between sleep and waking, I had forgotten about how Ben and I left things. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Harper pops a hand on her hip. “Uh, I don’t care what you want or don’t want to do, girl. We’re gonna talk about it. What happened? Before you left, everything was going swimmingly.” Puzzled concern skates across Harper’s face as she watches me intently.
Sitting back down on my bed, she curls up next to me, as I begin to describe how weird it was with his family, but how great it was between the two of us… until suddenly it wasn’t great anymore today.
“I don’t know what changed. He was so hot last night, but so cold today. After we had sex, he told me that he wanted to open his heart up to me. Today, he all but ignored me.” I cringe and wrap my arms around my legs. “And then I saw a text message from someone asking what time he was picking her up for dinner tonight.”
“Whoa, what?” Harper squawks, her eyes widening in surprise.
“Yep, and he said he had something important to talk to me about later.” Unwrapping my arms from my legs, I flop onto my back and stare at the ceiling. “It’s the kiss of death, isn’t it? He’s going to break up with me already. Not that we ever made anything official between us.”
Sitting cross-legged on my bed, Harper tilts her head quizzically as she ponders the situation. “Don’t jump to conclusions, Car. I don’t think he’d take you home for Thanksgiving only to dump you the next day.”
“God, I hope you’re right, Harper.” Turning my head, I whisper, “I really like him.”
She eyes me thoughtfully as a small smile plays on her lips. “I can tell. From what you said, it doesn’t sound that bad, Carlisle. The person who texted him is probably his agent or his assistant or something. For all you know, it could be his grandmother. So, don’t assume it’s a date.”
“I just can’t shake the feeling I have in the pit of my stomach that something's wrong. He changed overnight, but I don’t know why.”
“Have you checked your phone? Maybe he called or texted while you were napping?”
Shaking my head, I say, “I have it right here next to me and I never heard it ring.” I tap the home screen to double check that he hasn’t tried to contact me, but nothing happens. Scrunching up my face, I realize that it’s dead. “What the hell? How did it die already? I just charged it last night.”
“Your charger’s probably broken.” Harper suggests, shrugging. “I’d let you borrow mine, but our phones are different models.” Pulling me to my feet, Harper says, “Let’s grab a bite to eat. Then we can swing by Target to buy a new charger. A little girl time and some food will be good for you.”
“Okay.” My stomach growls loudly, as if affirming my decision. "Let me shower and then we can go."
"Cool if we run a couple of errands on the way to dinner? I need to drop something off at my co-worker's apartment and pick up my clothes from the dry cleaner."
"As long as it doesn't take too long because I'm starving."
Over dinner, Harper fills me in on her Thanksgiving visit home and I tell her more about how terrible Kelsey was.
