Page 8 of How We Began

“Um, you go bright red every time you see him, and stare at him constantly.”

“Pur-lease.” I tried to keep my chin on my palm of my hands but it kept sliding off. “I don’t…”

“Is that so? You know you could just talk to him. The tension is practically orgasmic.”

So there is tension… I hadn’t just made it up in my head. Drunk as I was, I could have cried with relief that someone else had noticed other than me.

“It’s our first week of uni, I’m not going to throw myself at the first guy I see. Or any guy. That isn’t what it’s about.”

“What’s it about? What is Delilah McCannon doing at university?” Meredith swayed from side to side.

I shrugged. “Something other than what I was heading for.”

Stopping swaying, Meredith eyed me with calculation. “Now, I’m just going to put this out there but maybe Ben is a part of your other…”

“Mer, that’s crazy…” Really really crazy.

I mean, how crazy?

You can’t be obsessed and borderline in love with someone you haven’t actually spoken to, apart from accusing them of not having the basic human skill to write with a fountain pen.

“I’m just saying,” she waggled her eyebrows, “I know you’ve got some personal vendetta to not turn into your mother.”

I must’ve drunk more wine than I can remember because I’ve got no clue when I told her that.

“But, well. Ben’s fit as hell, and no one says sex is a commitment.”

I scrunched my face. Maybe it’s just me, but it kind of is. Sex means something, well it should. I don’t really know.

“Uh no. Ben’s a player. Look how he’s been leading Barbie on all week.” We probably should find out her real name instead of calling her Barbie. I feel the need to hand back my Feminist Association Badge. “Player. Definitely.”

She stared over my head, her lips curved in a smile.

“Delilah.” Kill me bloody now “A player? Your judgements make my heart bleed.”

I whipped around to find Ben, a wicked look on his face as he clutched his chest like I’d shot him close range with a duelling pistol. My face burned with the heat of the sun’s core as Meredith laughed her head off and pushed off her stool, stumbling to the bar.

Ben slipped onto her bar stool. Leg pressed against mine. The table must have shrunk.

My breath caught in my chest.

He leaned into me, shoulder touching mine, voice low. “You really think I’m player?”

I stared at those blues, my words tangled in my throat. No. Yes. I don’t bloody know. “Well, how was your date?”

“Date?” Face a picture of confused innocence—yeah right.

“Yes. You know, all dressed up, smelling good, not that I noticed all that, and out for the night. The whole night?”

If I could’ve stopped myself talking, it would’ve been a miracle.

“Funny date, with three other male band members.”

“Oh.” How ‘Oh’ is all I said in response will have me kicking myself for eternity.

“Do you think you’d like to go on a date sometime?” I blinked up into those blues again, little teeny tiny particles of myself just lifting off into the universe’s atmosphere.

While ‘Say no… say no…’ was spinning around my head, the word vomit just kept coming.