a suit and tie. I can’t even imagine what my parents would think if I ever brought him home with me.
Th ere’s also the niggling problem that he is my roommate. I have to live with this guy for the rest of the year no matter what happens between us tonight.
And , I have Payton and Ainsley to consider. We made a deal. A pact. It was a sacred vow of female solidarity. That’s got to mean something. I imagine that they’ll strangle me if they find out that I’ve broken it. Hell, I’ll probably strangle myself.
But, when Ben’s smoldering eyes come back to me and his mouth twitches into a half-smile, my heart flips over and it’s like none of that stuff matters. The world could detonate all around us and I don’t think that I would care one way or the other.
“Good,” he says and reaches out his hand for me.
I don’t hesitate this time. I take it.
I’m grateful for a lot of things. Things like: opportunity, a car with a sunroof and power locks, friends that make me laugh, and those tiny little white marshmallows that you get with hot chocolate mix.
Tonight I’m grateful for obnoxious kids at coffee shops, blue shirts, and that Ben Hamilton insisted on driving his car separately when we left the house earlier tonight.
I send Payton and Ainsley both quick texts as we leave the club so that they won’t worry about me. But, judging from their outfits and the way they acted when I saw them last, I doubt that they’ll be too concerned about my whereabouts.
Ben and I don’t talk much during the car ride home. I lean my head against the cool glass of the passenger window and listen to the music that begins playing when he turns on his car. It’s classical. It’s sad and beautiful all at once—deep tones that sigh through the speakers and resonate deep in my belly.
“This is really nice,” I say appreciatively. Then I wonder if he understands that I mean the music.
Ben ducks his head sheepishly. “This is me.”
“Really?” My eyes widen a fraction and my mouth goes slack. I think there might be awe written on my face.
Ben nods but seems even more embarrassed.
“Yeah… I know that it seems strange to listen to myself play but I have a big solo coming up. A friend of mine offered to record me so that I could listen for errors and places where I need to speed it up or slow it down,” he explains quickly, looking at me sideways like he wants to be sure that I’m following what he’s saying. “I swear that I’m not the kind of guy that stares at myself in the mirror for hours at a time flexing my muscles.”
I shake my head and laugh.
I don’t say what I’m thinking: that I could probably stare at him for hours at a time. For a few moments, I just listen to Ben’s music—to the sigh of the instrument that sounds like a revolution.
I’m breathing funny and I’m thinking that this music is something that Ben made . He created it from nothing. And I haven’t created anything lasting in my whole life. Unless you count some mediocre photos and the glitter collage I brought home in second grade that my mother’s best friend had framed.
“ No. No, it’s not strange at all. I just wasn’t expecting it.” A small smile turns my lips. Words aren’t adequate but they’re all I have. “You’re really good. This is good.”
Ben turns on a mega grin and pops one of his eyebrows. This is when I notice that he’s driving just under the speed limit and that he holds the steering wheel with both hands the way that my dad taught me to. For some reason I almost laugh.
“ Ellie, did you think that I’d waste my college education and my time so that I could
Th ere’s also the niggling problem that he is my roommate. I have to live with this guy for the rest of the year no matter what happens between us tonight.
And , I have Payton and Ainsley to consider. We made a deal. A pact. It was a sacred vow of female solidarity. That’s got to mean something. I imagine that they’ll strangle me if they find out that I’ve broken it. Hell, I’ll probably strangle myself.
But, when Ben’s smoldering eyes come back to me and his mouth twitches into a half-smile, my heart flips over and it’s like none of that stuff matters. The world could detonate all around us and I don’t think that I would care one way or the other.
“Good,” he says and reaches out his hand for me.
I don’t hesitate this time. I take it.
I’m grateful for a lot of things. Things like: opportunity, a car with a sunroof and power locks, friends that make me laugh, and those tiny little white marshmallows that you get with hot chocolate mix.
Tonight I’m grateful for obnoxious kids at coffee shops, blue shirts, and that Ben Hamilton insisted on driving his car separately when we left the house earlier tonight.
I send Payton and Ainsley both quick texts as we leave the club so that they won’t worry about me. But, judging from their outfits and the way they acted when I saw them last, I doubt that they’ll be too concerned about my whereabouts.
Ben and I don’t talk much during the car ride home. I lean my head against the cool glass of the passenger window and listen to the music that begins playing when he turns on his car. It’s classical. It’s sad and beautiful all at once—deep tones that sigh through the speakers and resonate deep in my belly.
“This is really nice,” I say appreciatively. Then I wonder if he understands that I mean the music.
Ben ducks his head sheepishly. “This is me.”
“Really?” My eyes widen a fraction and my mouth goes slack. I think there might be awe written on my face.
Ben nods but seems even more embarrassed.
“Yeah… I know that it seems strange to listen to myself play but I have a big solo coming up. A friend of mine offered to record me so that I could listen for errors and places where I need to speed it up or slow it down,” he explains quickly, looking at me sideways like he wants to be sure that I’m following what he’s saying. “I swear that I’m not the kind of guy that stares at myself in the mirror for hours at a time flexing my muscles.”
I shake my head and laugh.
I don’t say what I’m thinking: that I could probably stare at him for hours at a time. For a few moments, I just listen to Ben’s music—to the sigh of the instrument that sounds like a revolution.
I’m breathing funny and I’m thinking that this music is something that Ben made . He created it from nothing. And I haven’t created anything lasting in my whole life. Unless you count some mediocre photos and the glitter collage I brought home in second grade that my mother’s best friend had framed.
“ No. No, it’s not strange at all. I just wasn’t expecting it.” A small smile turns my lips. Words aren’t adequate but they’re all I have. “You’re really good. This is good.”
Ben turns on a mega grin and pops one of his eyebrows. This is when I notice that he’s driving just under the speed limit and that he holds the steering wheel with both hands the way that my dad taught me to. For some reason I almost laugh.
“ Ellie, did you think that I’d waste my college education and my time so that I could
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