When he says this, I blush and am glad we’re outside in the dark. Ben is the first guy I’ve ever been out with who’s complimented my brains before making a grab at my boobs.
“So what about it?” he asks. “If I got an offer from Duke, would you consid—”
I lean over and stop his mouth with a kiss. He drops his red Solo cup to the ground and wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me closer on the bench.
When we finally come up for air, he taps a finger on my nose. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“What about your mom?” I ask him.
“What about her?”
“When we talked before, you said you were afraid of leaving her alone. Afraid she’d fill up the house with crap.”
Ben nods. “This week—finally being with you, like this—it’s made me realize how fast things can change. There are some things I can control—like asking you out. There are some things I can’t—like whether Mom will ever stop with the coupons. It’s like ever since Dad took off she doesn’t want to see me—really see me. Maybe when she looks at me, her heart breaks all over again. So she puts all this stuff between us.”
My eyes well up. Hearing Ben talk like this I realize there’s so much about him—so much going on beneath the surface that no one ever sees. I may be the luckiest girl alive—not only to know this, but to have him share it with me.
“You’re a good guy, Ben.” When I say it there’s a catch in my throat. He hears it and squeezes my hand.
“I just don’t think I can stick around and be worried about my mom for my whole life. If I had the opportunity to go play and didn’t take it, I’d wind up hating myself and probably her. Then what good would I be to anybody?”
He takes a deep breath and leans back against the table attached to our bench. He stretches out his impossibly long legs, and lets go of my hand, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.
We sit there in silence for a little while, until Rachel comes looking for us and drags us back to the gym. We thread our way across the floor to Christy and Lindsey, and in a relatively low-volume moment, as the DJ mixes one track into the next, Ben pulls me close and whispers in my ear. “You’re a knockout. You know that?”
I can’t hide the smile that spreads across my face, but I roll my eyes. “Dork.”
He laughs and in one easy move lifts his arm, spinning me away from him beneath it. He pulls me in close again, and just as I think this evening may be the most perfect of the known high school dances in all of recorded time, I see the doors to the gym swing open, and Coach Sanders steps inside with his arm around John Doone.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
twenty-two
THE GENERAL MAYHEM that greets Dooney’s entrance is the kind usually reserved for international recording sensations and movie stars. There are shouts and screams and a general rush toward him. Dooney is mobbed by most of the varsity team and anyone else who can get close enough. Amid the fist bumps and high fives, Phoebe and the Tracies follow the path that Christy clears, the four of them dancing toward Dooney through the crush.
Ben doesn’t make a move, just stands there staring. By virtue of height, he’s got an unobstructed view.
“He’s here!” Rachel is flushed from dancing, and tugs on Ben’s jacket. “Isn’t that great?” She looks so relieved that I smile. “See?” she says. “It was all a big misunderstanding.”
Ben nods, but I see a hesitance in his eyes, something guarded about Dooney’s being here. The music gets fast and loud again in answer to the energy that has surged through the crowd. The focus has shifted to John Doone at center court, and the look on his face says that this is his rightful place.
“Let’s go say hi!” Rachel says.
“Looks like he’s coming to us.” Lindsey jerks her chin in Dooney’s direction, and I see him making his way over. The crowd clamors, then falls away, and in a moment he’s in front of us, reaching toward Ben in that way guys do, the first move of a secret handshake, thumbs hooked, hands clasped. They pull each other in for a thump on the back, a brah hug with their fists and forearms sandwiched between their chests.
Dooney is lit up like a Christmas tree. “Dude! I’m back. Can you believe this shit?”
Lindsey goes tense beside me. Ben smiles at him, but there is something in his eyes—wariness, or weariness. I can’t tell which in the floating beams of the disco ball hanging over our heads.
“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” Ben manages. If Dooney notices how checked out Ben seems he doesn’t let it bother him.
“Pops finally convinced mom it was time to let me out of lockdown for a couple hours.” Dooney is crowing, vodka on his breath. He holds a hand up toward Ben and waits a second for Ben’s halfhearted high five.
Phoebe reappeares at Dooney’s elbow. “Hey!” she shouts. Dooney swings around. She beams at him and gives him a hug. “Why didn’t you text me?”