I gave him a tired smile. ‘No, you’re not, but I wouldn’t be either. It was funny.’
Still smiling, beautiful green eyes twinkling, Ben shifted the strap of his backpack as he stared at me. Not too long ago, being the focus of his attention would have put butterflies in my belly, so it was to my chagrin that I discovered … nothing. I felt absolutely nothing when I stared at him.
My shoulders slumped.
‘I went to that bar on Saturday, but I didn’t see you or your friend there.’
‘I’m sorry. I was sick.’
‘Oh.’ His brows drew together. ‘I hope you’re feeling better.’
He was so nice. So, so nice. And so cute.
‘I am, thank you.’
He glanced nervously over his shoulder, and then turned back, taking a step closer to me. ‘Look, I would really like to have dinner sometime. With you.’ He smiled, all rugged and handsome. ‘Can I have your number?’
It was impossible. I’d broken up with Nate only a week ago … if you could call it breaking up. My heart was in tatters. Clearly all my sexual feelings had fled when Nate had. And … you know … I’d only just begun musical therapy. I needed to give it some time to kick in and start working.
I couldn’t go on a date.
I just couldn’t.
‘Yes,’ I answered, nodding and smiling as he pulled out his phone so I could recite my number to him.
A smaller version of myself slapped me upside the head. What is the matter with you? she yelled, but I ignored her, gazing up into Ben’s face and praying that in time the butterflies I used to feel for him would come back.
22
Musical therapy did not work.
Like I didn’t know that was coming.
I blamed it all on my apartment.
After work on Monday I opened the door to my place and just stood there, gazing around the room. Every part of it reminded me of him. The couch where we’d hung out for hours over the last year. We’d had really great sex – God, no, out-of-body-experience sex on it too. More than once. More than a handful of times actually. Then there was the kitchen, where we’d eaten dinner and chatted. And yes … we’d christened the counter. The wall by the door. The wall by the window. The shower. My bedroom.
It was all him. Everywhere.
I ached. I ached so much that even my gums and teeth ached for want of him. I kicked my door shut and slumped against it. The only hope was that this feeling would pass. Eventually I had to start functioning like a normal human being again. Right?
Either that or I needed to start looking for a new apartment. Yet the thought of leaving the place where all my memories of him were …
I needed to see him.
I pulled my phone out of my bag with trembling hands and held it up, my thumb brushing over the screen. I’d deliberately avoided doing this since the breakup.
My breath left me as I opened the picture gallery on my cell and started flicking through it. The last picture I’d taken of Nate was him smiling as he drove the rental toward his parents’ house before things got weird that day. The next was of us both. Nate was giving the camera this sexy, low-lidded smirk as I held it over us while we were lying in bed. My head rested on his shoulder as I smiled happily. The next one was worse because we were kissing in it.
It was like a knife in my gut.
I quickly flicked past it.
There was another shot of him with his head buried in the pillow, hiding from me. And then there were plenty of me, because if you put a camera in Nate’s vicinity he was sure to overuse it.
Rage rushed through me.
My cell went sailing across the room and smashed against the far wall. I slid down the door, drawing my knees to my chest as I cried away all my efforts to move on.
‘So are you going out with him?’ Ellie asked me casually as we congregated in Hannah’s bedroom.
The week had passed as though it had been taken over by the spirit of a slug. A particularly slimy one that secreted mucus all over the goddamn place.
It wasn’t a good week.
After smashing my phone, I quickly found a replacement. I kept my old number with all my data … hoping what? That Nate might call? Ha. Nate still did not call.
Ben did, though. He called on Tuesday night to tell me he had a hectic week ahead of him but he wanted to know if I was free for dinner next Monday. I said yes, because frankly I was hoping for some kind of miracle that would bring back my enthusiasm and zest for life. If a tall, handsome Scotsman couldn’t do that, then I was seriously fucked.
Finally it was Sunday again and this time I’d mustered up the courage to face my friends – including the guys, who I now assumed knew everything that had happened between me and Nate – and join them for lunch. As had become routine the last few times, we disappeared into Hannah’s room while Elodie and Clark cooked and the guys talked.
I’d just told them about Ben’s call.
‘Yes. I said yes.’