Chapter 3

3

MABEL

“Didn’t Mom tell you Ben’s staying here?” Marek asks me, heading to the couch. “That’s why you have to sleep on the couch.”

“No, she did not tell me that.” I frown. I did not expect this. I thought I’d have a room of my own where I could wallow in my misery and shame and spend hours listening to T. Swift and doomscrolling on my phone between crying jags and eating boxes of Cheez-Its.

I look around. I can handle sleeping on the couch, I guess, although living with two guys and not having a room of my own is… not ideal. What if they spy on me when I’m asleep and I drool on my pillow? What if my boob falls out of my tank top while I’m sleeping? It happens!

And one of the guys I’m living with is Ben Antonov.

The guy I had a crush on at age seventeen. The guy I followed everywhere. The guy I watched at every hockey game. And lusted for. Okay, I was more stan than fan.

He was also the guy who avoided me at every turn. That still stings. In my mind, I called him stuck-up, stupid, rude. He rejected me and that hurt, therefore he was a jerk.

Now here we are. Fantastic.

I knew Ben plays for the same team as Marek now, but I didn’t anticipate actually seeing him, never mind living with him.

“Is this a permanent roomie situation?” I attempt a smile but I’m just showing my top teeth, no doubt looking like a grouchy poodle.

“No. I’m only staying a couple of months,” Ben says, not meeting my eyes. “I’m moving into a condo in this building, but I don’t take possession of it until 1 March.”

Great. He still hates me.

“Okay, then!” I flash another smile and grab a suitcase. “I’ll put my things over here.”

Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a spectacular view of the Manhattan skyline across the river, but how the hell am I going to sleep like this?

I park my suitcases in a corner.

“Did you have dinner?” Marek asks. “We just ate.”

“No. But it’s okay, I’m not hungry.”

“If you need something, help yourself.” He gestures at the kitchen.

“I’m sure you’re well-stocked with junk food.”

“Uh…”

“I’m kidding. Don’t worry, I can look after myself.”

“I’m gonna, uh… hit the hay,” Ben says. Without looking at me, he disappears down the hall.

I meet Marek’s eyes. “Sorry. This is weird.”

“It’s fine.”

“Do you have any beer?”

His lips twitch. “There might be a couple in the fridge.”

I stalk over to the fridge and open the door. As expected, it’s full of yogurt, greens, and a lot of chocolate milk. However, I spot a few cans of ale at the back. I grab one, pull the tab, and take a gulp.

“I think that’s Ben’s beer.”

I choke and nearly spew beer, the bubbles stinging my nose. “Shit.”

Marek laughs. “It’s fine. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

I’m sure he will. Too late now. I drop down onto the couch with my beverage.

“So, what happened?”

I eye him. “You mean with Julian?”

“Yeah.”

I purse my lips and inspect the pull tab on my beer. “It wasn’t working out.”

“That’s pretty vague.”

Yes. Yes, it is. I’m still too ashamed to tell my brother what I let happen. “It wasn’t any one thing. And it was mutual.”

“Are you sure? Because he texted me about a week ago and asked if I knew where you were. He said he was worried about you.”

My head snaps up. “What? What did you say?”

“Well, I didn’t know where you were, so I told him that.” He studies my face. “When did you move out?”

“A few weeks ago. I stayed with some friends.”

“You quit your job?”

“Yeah. I had to work my two weeks’ notice. And now I’m here! I’m excited to move to the big city.”

Unfortunately, my twin brother has always been perceptive when it comes to how I’m feeling and he frowns at my dissembling. “I thought you two were good. I thought you’d get married.”

Jesus. I swallow, my stomach frothing. Maybe it’s the beer. I take another swig. “I did too, for a while. Oh, well! Thank you, next!”

After a long moment of prickly silence he says, “Mom and Dad are worried about you.”

“I’ve talked to them. I told them I’m fine.” I roll my eyes.

He still seems dubious. “Okay. Well. We have our morning skate tomorrow, but when I get home, I’ll take you out and show you around the neighborhood.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’ve been here before. I’ll figure it out. I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“Ha. Mabel, you’re always trouble.” He says it affectionately but still, I wince a little inside. My reputation is going to follow me for the rest of my life. He stands. “I’ll get some bedding for you.”

“Just show me where it is.”

He leads me to a closet in the hall and pulls out sheets and pillows. Then he shows me how to lower the shades on all the windows with the touch of a button – fancy! – and he, too, heads to his room.

“Marek.”

He stops and turns. “Yeah?”

“If Julian contacts you again… please don’t tell him I’m here. Tell him I’m okay. But don’t tell him where I am.”

He frowns and gives me another long look. “Okay. Sure. Good night.”

I turn the couch into a bed, luckily finding the big soft throw blanket I gave Marek for Christmas last year. Then I hike to the bathroom to wash my face and change into my nightie. I take in the men’s products in the shower, and the hair-styling cream on the vanity. Ben’s. His brown hair is thick and kind of long on top and for some reason it tickles me that unassuming Ben uses styling cream to get that perfect tousled look. The products are all the same brand, one I don’t recognize. I pick up the beard oil sitting on the counter. He has a beard now. Not a Brent Burns beard, one of those close-cropped ones that’s barely more than stubble. It outlines the strong oblong shape of his jaw and frames his smile. Though I didn’t see him smile much tonight. I do remember that he has a great smile though; wide and white.

I huff out a laugh, remembering my adolescent crush. Poor Ben.

Poor me, for suffering all that rejection.

I set my toiletry bag at one end of the long vanity and scrub off my makeup. I slip my nightie over my head and scrunch up my travel clothes. I think Marek has a washer and dryer here. I desperately need to do laundry.

With one lamp on beside the couch, I snuggle in with another beer and my phone.

I blocked Julian’s phone number, and I blocked him on Messenger, Facebook, and Snapchat. I didn’t expect it, but after the night I stayed at Bellamy’s he blew up my phone – first demanding I come home, then apologizing, then begging for us to talk. Not gonna lie, it was hard to resist him begging. I cried. I stayed strong. And I blocked. After I replied a few times, telling him it was over.

I send Mom a text, telling her I’m here and I’m fine. I’ve already asked her to not share my whereabouts with Julian, which she thankfully agreed to even though she’s disappointed we’ve broken up.

I look up at the ceiling and expel a long breath. “God, I wish I had some Cheez-Its.”

Yes, my self-soothing techniques have included copious amounts of alcohol and junk food. Yes, I’m aware that’s not the healthiest approach.

I’m so tired.

I’ve tried to keep myself angry at Julian. Anger will keep me strong. It’ll keep me from dissolving into an ocean of tears. It’ll keep me from caving and running back to him. I’m not even going to listen to him.

But that anger is exhausting. Even my bones are tired.

And even though I’m trying to stay angry, those thoughts creep in – that Julian was the way he was because I’m not good enough. And then I feel sad, and scared, and I run with that sadness like an NFL running back on cocaine. Nobody will ever love me. I will live the rest of my life alone, like Julian said. I’ll probably get several cats and turn into the stereotypical librarian – I’ll yell at the kids who make noise and scowl at patrons disapprovingly over my reading glasses when they ask for materials on birth control. I’ll be a spinster who enjoys bingo and jigsaw puzzles. Maybe I’ll take up knitting.

This all makes me even more tired.

I awake to soft rustling noises. My eyes pop open and I listen. What is that? Wait, where am I?

I lift my head and peer towards the sounds. Right. Marek’s place.

The apartment is dark with all the blinds closed but light slices across the room as the refrigerator door opens. Then closes.

I push the covers down and sit up. “Hey.”

The shadowy figure startles. “Oh. Hey. I was trying not to wake you.”

Ben. I thought it was Marek.

“That’s okay. What time is it?”

“Eight thirty-four.”

I smile at the precise answer and slide my legs over the side of the couch. “I would kill for coffee. You don’t happen to have coffee over there, do you?”

“Yeah, there’s a Keurig.”

“Perfect.” I stand and pad to the kitchen in my bare feet. “You can turn the light on.”

Ben nods and hits the switch for the kitchen lights.

I pause at the counter, yawn, and raise my arms above my head in a full-body stretch. “Why do they call it beauty sleep when you wake up looking like a hot mess?” I fluff my tangled hair and open my eyes and… I’m pretty sure I catch Ben looking at my thighs. I tug the hem of my nightshirt down, heat running up my throat.

It’s a good-sized kitchen, basically galley-shaped with the stove and cupboards on one side and the open counter with a sink on the other. I spy the coffee machine and squeeze by Ben to get to it.

Christ on a bike, he smells good.

Is that the body wash I spied in the shower last night? The one described as white pepper, dark amber, and black oak? It’s enough to make my knees weak.

Wait. This is the guy who snubbed me. Repeatedly. Never mind how good he smells.

Ignoring my strangely shaky legs and spinning head, I open a cupboard to look for coffee pods. Jackpot. I fumble one out of the carton and manage to successfully start a cup brewing.

“You need a mug,” Ben says.

“Ack! Shit!”

He hands me one and I shove it under the spout just as the magical elixir flows out.

“Thank you.” I slap my forehead. “This is why I need coffee.” I take a breath. “I’ll go get dressed while my coffee’s brewing.”

I squeeze past him again, sucking in like I’m trying to fit into my high-school jeans, and zip over to my suitcases. I paw through the clothes, searching for something clean and appropriate, finally grabbing a pair of leggings and a sweater. And a bra and panties.

As I straighten, I’m aware that my long T-shirt again rode up while I was bending over. I close my eyes. Please baby Jesus and the baby donkey, don’t let Ben have seen my ass cheeks.

Without looking at him, I march to the bathroom and get dressed. My face in the mirror is crimson, with an attractive pillow crease on one cheek. I rub at it and sigh. Oh, well.

Ben has set my coffee on the counter where he’s sitting on one of the stools eating a bowl of something. I pick up my coffee and lean across to peer at his breakfast. “What is that?”

“Overnight oats.”

I frown. “What are the black things?”

“Chia seeds.”

“Ah. That sounds healthy.” He also has strawberries on top of it. “Is it good?”

“Yeah.” He pauses. “Want to try some?”

“Oh, that’s okay! I’ll pick up some Pop-Tarts. That’s my favorite breakfast. Along with a good cup of Joe.” I lift my mug and smile brightly.

“Pop-Tarts.”

“Yeah. My favorite are the frosted confetti ones. They taste like birthday cake, which I love. I also like the Eggo ones. But they taste like an Eggo, so you might as well eat an Eggo. I should pick up some of those too. I like waffles.” I sip my coffee. “Do you like Pop-Tarts?”

“I haven’t had one since I was twelve.”

“Oh. Right. You must be into nutrition like Marek is. I get it. You’re pro athletes. Your body is your tool.” I stop. “That didn’t come out right.”

He bites his lip.

“I mean you need to worship your body,” I say hastily. “Oh, fuck. Shut up, Mabel.”

His lips spread into an actual smile. “I know what you mean.”

“Where’s Marek? Is he up yet?”

“Yeah, he went out to get some fruit.”

“Well, damn. I could have asked him to pick up Pop-Tarts.” I sigh heavily. “But I have all day and you guys have to go to work!”

“Right.”

“What time is your morning skate?”

“We like to get there around nine.” He glances at his phone, sitting on the counter. “Lots of time.”

“Do you guys drive together?”

“Yeah. And sometimes our buddies Crusher and Dilly. They live in this building, too.”

“Carpooling is good. Better for the environment. Saves on gas. Not that you guys need to worry about money.” Jesus, I have to stop babbling.

The door opens and Marek breezes in. “Oh, hey, you’re awake. Did you sleep okay on the couch?”

“I actually did. Crashed like a log.” I pause, that simile not quite working, then shrug. “Hey, can I do laundry today?”

“Sure. The washer and dryer are behind the doors next to the closet in the hall.”

“Great.”

Marek starts throwing things into a blender – the frozen berries he just bought, a scoop of protein powder, a squeeze of honey, and milk.

“Did I tell you last night you need a haircut?” I ask him.

Ben snorts softly and scoops up his oats.

“No. And I don’t need a haircut.” Marek runs a hand through his shaggy curls. His dark coppery hair’s about the same color as mine, minus the balayage highlights. “I like it like this.”

“Okay.” I shrug and drink my coffee.

I move out of the kitchen and find the remote, then open the blinds on the windows. The sky is overcast, with pewter clouds making the light dull and cold. With my coffee, I stroll over to a window to take in the view. The steel-colored Hudson River stretches out in front of Manhattan, the buildings a jumble of block shapes, the spire of the Empire State Building reaching to the clouds.

I’m going to live here now.

Not right here, as in this apartment. I’ll find my own place, as soon as I can, although I hear that’s a challenge in New York. I pull air into my lungs and let it out slowly.

Who am I, even?

I’m no longer Julian’s partner. I’m no longer a librarian. I’m no longer a member of the Sherrinford and Penn State community. I’m pissed about all that. I’ve lost all that, and what has Julian lost? Other than me, who he manipulated for his own purposes. It’s not fair.

My jaw and temples ache and I realize I’m grinding my molars together. I force myself to relax my jaw and take another sip of coffee.

Julian manipulated me into depending on his approval and now I don’t have that and… and I was trying so hard to please him and be someone else, I’m not sure who I really am anymore. I’m hollowed out. Cold and empty. Scared.

“Hey.”

I start and turn at the low voice behind me. It’s Ben, his thick eyebrows drawn together, his mouth a straight line. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, raising broad shoulders. His body is hard and fit, long, and lean.

I glance to the kitchen, but Marek has disappeared.

I blink at Ben. The intensity of his expression sends hot sparks sizzling over my skin, yet the softness of his voice confuses me. A tremor flutters in my middle. Seconds tick by.

Then he says quietly, “Are you okay?”