On an Edge of Glass (8 page)

As if he can
hear my racing thoughts, Ben moves.  His hand comes up and he cups my cheek, tipping my chin up until I’m forced to look directly at him.  His face is so serious that I think he really is about to kiss me. 

I’m
wrong. 

Ben
stays on his side of the center console.  His fingers move down the side of my face.  He pushes them back until his hand is circling the nape of my neck.  He’s holding my gaze with his wide eyes and biting his bottom lip gently. 

I
’m petrified of the way that my heart responds.  It literally skips a beat.  And I marvel that all of this hugeness can fit in one car.  In one body.  In one hungry look.

             
“I like you,” he says quietly and it sounds almost like a question.  “I like you, Ellie,” he repeats—this time sounding surer.   

             
I let the edges of my mouth creep up.  I’m relieved and maybe a little confused. 

“
I like you too,” I say back and I think we’re both sort of surprised by my honesty.

E
verything good about the world is amplified for about twenty-five more seconds.  My heart balloons.  It expands or blossoms or whatever.  The feeling is unreal.  It’s fierce and not just a little scary.  Is this what people have been talking about?  Is this crazy, earth-bending sensation what Shakespeare and Rosetti and all of my favorites were writing about?

My smile gets wider.

I
t’s like creating something from nothing.   

Until
it all goes to hell.

             
Because of her.

Halting Abruptly

The girl
is waiting on the porch.

             
As soon as we get out of the car, we both see her standing under the dim light, her body haloed against the cool night.  I don’t know who she is and I’m about to throw a, “hi, can I help you?” at her when I catch the expression on Ben’s face. 

He does
n’t need to tell me anything.  It’s all there without the words.  The grim set of his jaw, frowning forehead, and pinched lips practically shout the story. 

The ex.

Crap.

A million oh nos scream inside my head.

A
n icy, finger-numbing chill sneaks in around my heart.  I’m hoping that my feet keep moving properly so that I don’t fall over right here in the driveway.

             
The girl is gorgeous. 

I do
n’t want her to be, but there is no denying it.  She’s all big boobs, tiny waist, and intense sex appeal.  If I’m being honest, she’s the complete opposite of me.  They were together for years. 
So, this is what he likes,
I think as I take in her propped-up cleavage and red-stained lips. 

Her hair i
s long and so dark that it’s on the verge of black.  She wears it loose, dripping over her shoulders and snaking down to the dip of her lower back.  A handful of tiny braids sweep away from her forehead and are pinned behind her right ear.  Her skin is an exotic deep golden brown that sets off her unusually wide, light eyes. 

She’s
paired an insanely short skirt with a cropped black shirt that rides up when she shifts, exposing her pierced naval.  A stack of silver bracelets climbs up her naked arm.  They make clinking sounds as she descends the porch steps and walks in our direction.

             
I wonder vaguely if she’s freezing her butt off.  She looks it.  Freezing
and
like a fucking rock star sex siren.

I, for one, have
never felt so dull and unattractive in my life.  It unhinges me.  I wobble.  My knees feel loose, like they might not want to hold me up much longer. 

             
“Lily, what are you doing here?”  Ben asks tightly.  His shoulders are ramrod straight and his chin is lifted in a challenge.  

             
Lily

             
Even her name is pretty.  I realize that I was hoping that he’d call her Henrietta or Gertrude or something equally awful so that I could at least make it sound nasty inside my head.  I can’t do much damage with a name like Lily. 

             
Lily pauses in front of us.  Her hands are on her hips.  She’s jutting her head to one side.  She looks at Ben and then at me and her eyes quickly dart back to him.  She seems unimpressed by my presence and I can’t say that I blame her. 

             
“Ben,” she says his name gently.  She reaches her hand forward to lightly graze his arm. 

He flinches slightly,
but he doesn’t pull back.  This seems to be what she’s hoping for, and her fingers slide down to encapsulate his wrist.  She pulls him toward her body. 

My heart
is jammed up in my throat.  Things inside of me are cracking and I realize that it’s jealousy that’s hammering everything into smithereens.  How ridiculous is that?  What rational reason do I have to be jealous?  None.  Ben can do what he likes.  He can talk, kiss,
be with
whomever he likes.

I look away
and focus on the twenty steps that it’s going to take to reach the front door.  Walking more quickly, I ignore the whistling in my blood and pay attention to the sound of my feet hitting the ground.  Ben is strangely silent.  I figure that he and Lily are having some sort of intense staring contest, but I don’t look back over my shoulder to verify this. 

“Nice to meet you,” Lily
says slimly, just this-side of rude.

My fingers are braced on the knob of the front door. 
I swivel on my heels, whipping my head around. 

They’re both standing there,
four steps down on the walkway.  Ben’s mouth is partway open.  His gold-flecked eyes are directed at me.  He looks ready to scream or cry or hit something.  Or maybe I don’t know what he’s thinking at all.  Maybe I don’t know him at all. 

Lily i
s still touching him and it kills me.  My stomach is completely hollowed out and I feel pressure start to build up behind my eyes.  How pathetic will Ben think that I am if I start to cry right now? 

Over wha
t? 

One drunken kiss.

A dance. 

I remind myself that we a
re nothing significant to each other.

Ben
and Lily, however, have had
years
of kissing, laughing together, dancing. 
Sex.
  He obviously loved her if he was with her for two years. 

Who am I
kidding?  He probably
still
loves her.  What guy wouldn’t?  She’s beautiful and sexy and confident in all the ways that I’m not.

Deep breath. 
For Lily’s benefit, I use my sweetest smile, but I’m pretty sure that it doesn’t reach my eyes. 

“We didn’t exactly
meet,
but I’m Ellie Glass.  I’m just one of Ben’s new roommates.  That’s all,” I say nimbly as I slip inside.  The door falls shut with a loud thump, leaving me in the darkness of the front hall. 

             
Ben and Lily are outside together for almost an hour. 

I know this because I watch
the clock on the small table by my bed like my life depends on it.  Clearly, falling asleep is out of the question. 

I roll
under my duvet and yank my pillow over my head hoping to block out the muffled sounds of Ben and Lily talking on the porch.  When that doesn’t work, I bring my laptop to life and open up my favorite playlist. 

The clock nears
midnight.  Finally, I hear the front door open and close as Ben comes inside.  My ears strain over the chords of soft music and I make out only one set of footsteps.  At least Lily hasn’t followed him inside.  At my bedroom door, the sound of his steps stops.  Sitting up, I see the shadow of his feet through the sliver under the door.  I wait, holding my breath and hoping that my insistently thudding heart won’t break any rib bones.

The knock that I half-expect
never comes.  Eventually, his feet move on and I hear a clunking sound and then the bathroom door closes.  The pipes whine in protest as the hot water for the shower is turned on.

I let a
held breath whoosh out of my lungs. 

I don’t want to think about
Ben anymore.  I don’t want to think about his ex-girlfriend holding his hand or kissing him.  I don’t want to think about dancing with him, or the gentle way that he touched my face in the car.  And I definitely don’t want to think about Ben Hamilton in the shower naked. 

So I turn
over and close my eyes, and this time I refuse to open them for anyone or anything. 

A group of students walk
past us, talking and laughing.  I sigh miserably. 

Mark opens his mouth and then closes
it.  He taps one finger against his outstretched leg.  His head is tilted to one side and he’s looking at me like he’s trying to solve a difficult problem.

“Mark?”  I
’m beyond frustrated with his silence.

“I’m thinking,” he says
finally.  As if that’s enough of an answer. 

Mark
pushes his blond hair back and rolls his neck.  He pops a green gummy bear in his mouth.

“Can you think faster?  I’m getting old over here.”

We’re sitting on top of our favorite wooden picnic table in the Quad, which is an open space on campus nestled between a cluster of brick classroom buildings and the Student Union.  In the early fall and spring, it’s packed with picnickers and students playing Frisbee, or studying under the shade of one the trees that border the south side. 

T
oday it’s fairly quiet.  Only one other table is occupied.  The tree limbs are barren and the grass is on the brink of brown and crunchy.  I figure by Halloween next week I’ll be in a scarf and hat until March. 

But right now
, with the sun glowing in the sky like a sunny-side up egg, our faces still get warmed if we position ourselves just right.  That’s what Mark and I are doing after our last class of the day—sunning like a pair of seals on the beach and gossiping about boys.  Our feet dangle over the edge of the tabletop.  There’s a half-eaten box of gummy bears between us.  Our bags and laptops are parked below on the bench seat.   

“It’s not like I’m surprised Ellie.  I could see this
one coming from a mile away.  I did warn you if you remember correctly.”  His voice drips with the implied I-told-you-so. 

God.  He can be such a diva sometimes.  I tell him this and he laughs.

“Look, Mark, I understand that I’m an idiot, but as my bestest friend in the universe can you focus on how I should proceed from here?  Do I just act like nothing happened with Ben?” 

He raises one eyebrow
at me.  “Is that even possible?”

“I don’t know!”  I let my head fall to his shoulder.  “Tell me what to do, Oh Wise One.”

Mark smirks
and takes another gummy bear from the box.  “That depends on how you want this to play out Ellie-bear.  You keep saying that what happened with Ben is no big deal.  You’re shrugging your shoulders cryptically and trying to act nonchalant about the whole thing.  But at the same time, you’re calling me at the ass-crack of the morning to obsess over him.”

“I think the term
obsess
is a little much.”

Mark ignores me and continues.  “A
nd you can deny it all you want, but something in you has changed.”  He pauses and gives me a brief once-over.  “You’re less stressed about school and the LSAT.  I haven’t heard you mention it in days…”

He’s right.  I haven’t studied since
last Thursday.  And I planned to have the first draft of my essay for Columbia done by tomorrow but so far I only have the opening paragraph written. 

“Arggghhhh!”  
All of the pieces are starting to stick together.  I swallow them down.  “You’re right.  I cannot believe I let this guy get so far under my skin.  How stupid am I?”

“Don’t beat yourself up.” 
Mark pats my hand.  “It happens.”

“Does it?”  I croak out.

“Well, maybe not to you, but to the majority of the world.  And it’s good for you.”

“What’s good for me
?  Having a crush?”

Mark turns his head so that he’s looking directly a
t me.  “No.  Crushes are for fourteen year olds.  Ellie, I would describe what’s happening to you as
falling
.”

“Falling,” I say softly, letting the word sink in.  “So, how do I get back up?”

“Maybe you don’t.” 

“
That’s not an answer.”

Mark clears his throat.  “All I
know is that I’ve never seen you like this over a boy.”