Page 20 of How We Began

He’s something special, I can see it, feel it. It’s in the way my bones melt and tremble every time he is near. I’m doomed, because I have a cray-cray feeling that this might be something special and I don’t know how to deal with that in my life right now. I’m going to stay in my room today.

Maybe some space would do me some good.

7th October

Last night ‘space’ seriously backfired on me. At 9ish, after I’d hidden all day, there was a tap at my door. I’d put my unsexist pj’s on and scrubbed my already clean face. I’d done the facial peel Mum had got for me to combat the first signs of ageing before I had to go down the ‘surgical path’.

Shiny faced and dressed head to toe in fluffy fleece, I opened the door to find Ben leaning against the doorframe. He was dressed in grey sweatpants and I instantly reorganised my mental ‘Favourite Outfits Ben Wears’ list to put the sweats at the top.

“You’ve been hiding in here all day. Have you even eaten?”

“Define eating, exactly.” My hand held the door. Despite the excessive kissing we’ve embarked on, our rooms have remained our own. Three weeks in and we haven’t had a ‘chill out’ in either of our rooms yet. Mainly because I’m too moronic to know exactly what ‘chilling out’ involves and the thought of it makes me break out in sweat prickles—they aren’t sexy.

Stretching up, he peered over my head. “Doritos?”

My face scrunched, certain I had cheesy breath—which I’ve since checked and yes, there’s no escaping cheesy Dorito breath. “What’s your point?”

“Are you inviting me in or what?” He looked the picture of nonchalance but the crinkles around his eyes tightened a fraction.

My phone in my hand beeped and I made the enormous mistake of glancing down at it.

John: Please can we talk? No pressure, just a chat. I miss you. Let’s reschedule our rain check from Friday.

My chest squeezed while my stomach plummeted to my feet.

“Important?” Ben asked. I should have just shown him. That would have been the sensible thing to do. Technically, I’ve not done anything wrong, but say that to the guilt inside of me.

“No, not at all.” I pocketed my phone. “Are you coming in?” I swallowed hard and he chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t bite, Lilah.”

Standing back, I let him in, getting a good hit of that gorgeous smell of his, soap and a light citrusy scent that just seems to cling to everything he wears. God knows what he washes his clothes in, but that stuff should be flying off the shelves.

He looked around, lips quirking at my post it notes stuck to my cork-board. “I thought we could talk.”

My face must have dropped. “Sorry, did you think I’d come in for something else?”

Well, yeah, I kinda did.

My face = puce.

He surprised me by letting out a sigh, his shoulders dropping, the cocky smirkiness I’d gotten so used to evaporating. “I can’t work you out, Lilah.”

“What do you mean?” My arms folded across my fluffy pyjamas. “There isn’t much to work out, I’m pretty surface level if I’m being honest with you.”

A frown flashed across his face. “I guess. It’s just, one minute we seem to be heading somewhere, and I know this is insanely new, but last night seemed like a step up, but then today…” He rolled his hand like he wanted me to finish the sentence for him.

Of course, I didn’t.

“…Nothing. You don’t message, I’m in the room next door for fuck’s sake and you don’t even knock.”

Oh shit.

“I…” I didn’t know what to say or how to explain.

“If this is just messing around, whatever, that’s totally cool. I just want to know.” I hated the shrug of his shoulders, it made me crumple a little on the inside.

He stared. I stared.