Page 25 of How We Began

Ben just popped in to see me as I got ready. He looked outrageously hot in a pale blue shirt that matched his eyes but made his dark hair stand out in contrast. I could have changed my mind about the girls’ night, but I didn’t. I just gave him a grin, and he flashed me his wicked smirk as he said goodbye.

20th October

(9.25 a.m.)

I’m in Ben’s room. IN HIS ROOM. There is an out-of-control elephant running through my head but I don’t care.

Last night Jayne, Mer, and I decided on a girls-only pub-crawl and were having one glass of wine in each place. Halfway down High Street, who should we bump into? Oh, yes, that’s right, my complete arse of a brother and one of his slimy friends. Creepy man-friend Eric, who’s greasy and potbellied, automatically started trying to put his arm over my shoulder. I ducked away and managed to put Jayne in-between us, which worked out well. She’d had four glasses of wine, so perhaps her vision was slightly impaired, but she seemed happy to talk to him.

It was all good fun, but then Mer and Trist started whispering, and Jayne was being smoozed by creepy Eric, and suddenly I was really lonely. Silly, because I was still surrounded by people, but there was only one person who I wanted to be with.

When I think of my first few weeks of uni, there is only one real thing I’ve learnt about, one person I’ve learnt about.

Ben likes Marmite on his toast for breakfast, preferably doorstop, always white.

Ben doesn’t eat baked beans. He thinks it’s devil food.

Ben doesn’t like to wear shoes in the house. Taking his shoes off is the first thing he does when he gets home.

Ben’s eyes are the same colour as the sky at midday.

Ben has a middle name beginning with the letter R, but he won’t tell me what it is.

Ben has two sisters who still live in Dorset and think he is a twat. I can’t imagine why.

Ben knows the best way to prepare a bacon buttie is to make the bacon extra crispy before putting it on heavily buttered bread with just a smidge of ketchup.

So there I was, sitting by myself in the middle of a South West London pub, and I knew exactly what I wanted to do. And it was nothing close to what I planned for when I began university, when I restarted my life.

I text Ben and asked if he was home, waiting impatiently for a vibration from my phone.

Ben: Just back now? U ok?

His response alone was enough to make my mind up. The fact the first thing he thought to ask, to check, was if I was okay.

Ben: Lilah?

Me: Stay there.

My decision was instant and definite. So mumbling something about a headache, I made my excuses and left our girls night out. Which actually wasn’t much of a girls’ night out anymore after my brother’s invasion.

When I got back to campus I fell through the entrance and then tried Ben’s door. It was unlocked and as much as my nerves wanted me to change my mind, my need for him wouldn’t allow that to happen. It was a need, it ached and burned, desperate and consuming.

“Lilah?” He was sitting cross-legged on his bed, guitar across his lap.

In silence, I stripped off my clothes to my underwear and climbed onto the bed next to him, my heart pounding in my chest as he slowly looked me over.

He didn’t say anything and this aching silence seeped into my bones.

Gently he put the guitar on the floor and turned towards me, his hands sliding around my waist like they were made to fit there, and I sank into him.

I know I’ve been using the word perfect so much, and it sounds totally trite. It’s pathetic that I can’t think of anything better… but he is. He’s perfect for me.

Even just the way our skin touched, the heat of it all, the way our limbs just fit together. He was all long legged and smooth toned muscles and I was all small and soft. Everything about it seemed… God… Perfect. Perfect, perfect, perfect. The small movements, his lips everywhere. My tentative nerves he swiped away with the depth of his kiss.

None of this is what I planned, but life has just unravelled and given me something totally unexpected.

21st October