Page 33 of The Time It Takes
I frowned. “Since when do you go on those?”
“Since I start working there in the fall when I’m done with school.”
“What happened with going to college?”
He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “Plans change.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You can add it to the list of all the other reasons you’re mad at me.”
“Oliver,” I said sternly. He hesitated but finally looked at me. “What’s going on?”
He stood and offered me his hand to help me up and I dropped my shoulders. It was a temporary surrender. We didn’t need to talk, we never did.
He let my hand go and we started to walk down the shoreline. The waves crashed into our ankles and our feet sank into the sand with each step.
I crossed my arms and rubbed my hands along my biceps, fighting off the chill of the night. Oliver noticed because he stopped and peeled the shirt off his back. He looked at me, his eyes demanding and not a suggestion, but I nodded anyway.
He tugged it over my head, and it took me a moment to realize how close he was. He slid it over my eyes, and I saw him glare down at my body. When his eyes lifted to meet mine, I gave him a knowing smile. He glared harder as he pulled the t-shirt down over my chest and stomach, but his hands lingered on my hips.
He went to step away, but I caught his wrists. His eyes darted up to mine, confusion etched across his face.
“I missed you, too,” I breathed. “I missed you every miserable second I didn’t see your stupid dimples or hear your absurd laugh.”
A smile broke out across his face, and he leaned down, pressing his lips to my forehead.
“Me too, Damsel. Always me too.”
Chapter Seven
Present
Forthepasttenyears, I’ve planted so many different versions of myself into the universe that I struggle to remember which one is real. I can’t remember what it feels like to belong somewhere. It’s like there are parts of me that exist outside of my body and my arms are too weak to pull them back.
Stepping out of the shower, I wrap a towel around myself quickly, fighting off the cold air. I don’t even realize what I’m doing until I’m standing in front of Ben’s bedroom door, pushing it open. Tension rolls through my body as I stare into the room. There’s so much of him in here that I don’t know that I can stand the sight of it.
My movement is stiff as I take one step inside.
Then another.
And another until I’m standing next to his bed. There’s a folded gray t-shirt sitting on the corner of it as if he only left moments ago and he’d be back any second. I pick it up and bring it to my nose. I smile because it’s been ten years and there’s still a lingering scent of him in the cotton. I look around the room and realize it’s the only one that hasn’t been cleaned for buyers. I wonder if Colleen is letting people see this room yet or if she’s waiting for me to decide what to do with his things.
If I move anything, then it means he’s gone for good.
If I start putting things away in cardboard boxes, he’ll come home yelling at me, telling me to get the hell out of his room and that he can do it himself. Then that’s when I’d say, “Benji, you’ve taken care of me our whole lives, I think I can manage this and besides, you’re the least organized person I know. You need me.”
Of course, that last part wouldn’t be true. I was always the one who needed him.
I bring the t-shirt with me back to my old bedroom and slip it on before glancing at the time.
3:24 P.M.
This is pathetic. I’ve wasted the day away like a teenager.
I quickly pull on some jean shorts. I could use a drink while I sort through my things. When I go downstairs to search the liquor cabinet, I find it empty. My lips purse as I consider going into town for some.
I only hesitate for a moment before moving to leave. Another idea occurs to me, causing a sly grin to spread across my face.
