November 9: A Novel (9 page)

Now I’m pushing him back down the hall, away from my bedroom.

Jesus, he must think I’m crazy.

He shoves me against the wall again and acts like the last ten seconds of indecisiveness never even happened.

I’m dizzy. I’m so dizzy, it feels so good, my mother is
crazy
. Stupid, insane, absurd, and she’s
wrong
. Why would a girl care to find herself when she’ll never be able to make herself feel as good as a guy can? Okay, now I’m just being stupid. But Ben is making me feel really good things right now.

He groans and then I freaking lose it. My hands are in his hair and his mouth is all over my neck.

Grab my boob, Ben.

He totally reads my mind and grabs my boob.

Grab the other one.

God, he’s so telepathic.

His lips move from my neck back to my mouth, but his hands are still on my breasts. I’m pretty sure mine are cupping his ass, pulling him even harder against me, but I’m too embarrassed at my behavior right now to acknowledge that.

“I would say get a room, but I thought that’s what the two of you have been doing in there for the past two hours.”

Amber.

What a bitch. I’m beating her up as soon as Ben leaves.

I can’t believe I just had those thoughts. She’s my best friend.

Endorphins are bad. They’re evil and bad and make me think ridiculous thoughts.

Ben pulls his mouth from mine at the sound of her voice. His forehead presses against the side of my head and his hands leave their naturally assumed positions to meet the wall behind me.

I exhale a really, really,
really
pent-up breath.

“For real though,” Amber says. “Glenn and I can see everything going on in this hallway. I thought I’d intervene before you got pregnant.”

I nod, but I’m unable to speak yet. I think my voice got lost somewhere down Ben’s throat.

He pulls away and looks down at me, and if Amber wasn’t still standing there, I’d be kissing that mouth again.

“Fallon was just walking me out.” His voice is raspy, and it makes me smile, knowing he’s just as physically affected by me as I am by him.

“Uh-huh,” Amber replies. As soon as she disappears from my peripheral vision, Ben grins and his mouth is back on mine. I smile against his lips and grab at his shirt, pulling him closer.

“
God
, you guys,” Amber groans. “Seriously. It’s five feet back to your bedroom and ten feet to the front door. Make a choice.”

He pulls away again, but this time he pulls all the way away. Like three feet away, until his back meets the wall behind him. His chest is heaving as he runs his hands down his face. He glances back at my bedroom door, and then cuts his eyes to mine. He wants me to make the choice, but I don’t want to. I kind of liked it when he took control and made the decision to kiss me. I don’t want the next decision to be on me.

We stare at each other for what seems like an entire minute. Him wanting me to invite him back to my bedroom. Me wanting him to just
push
me back in there. Both of us knowing good and well that we should head toward the front door.

He straightens up and shoves his hands in his pockets and clears his throat. “Do you need a ride to the airport?”

“Amber’s driving me,” I say, somewhat disappointed that I do, in fact, already have a ride.

He nods and rocks back and forth on his feet. “Well, the airport is absolutely not in the direction of my house, but . . . I’ll pretend it is if you want me to drive you.”

Dammit, he’s adorable. His words make me feel all warm and fuzzy, and . . .
I’m not a damn teddy bear. I need to suck it up.

I don’t accept his offer right away. Amber and I won’t see each other again until she visits New York in March, so I don’t know if she’d be mad if I told her I’d rather a guy I’ve only known half a day drive me to the airport.

“I don’t mind,” Amber says from the living room. Ben and I both look down the hallway. Glenn and Amber are sitting on the couch, staring at us. “Not only can we see you making out from right here, but we can also hear your conversation.”

I know her well enough to know she’s doing me a favor. She winks at me and when I look back at Ben, there’s a little more hope in his expression. I casually fold my arms across my chest and tilt my head. “You don’t happen to live near the airport, do you?”

His mouth pulls into a grin. “Actually, I do. How incredibly convenient.”

Ben spends the next few minutes helping me with last-minute scrambling. I change out of the dress I had planned to wear and settle on yoga pants and a T-shirt so I’ll be comfortable on the flight. He loads my suitcases in his car as I tell Amber goodbye.

“Remember, I’m all yours during spring break,” she says. She hugs me, but neither of us are the type to cry over a silly goodbye. She knows as well as I do that this move is good for me. She’s been one of my biggest cheerleaders since the accident, hoping I find the confidence I lost two years ago. And living inside this apartment isn’t where that’s going to happen. “Call me in the morning so I know you made it okay.”

We finish our goodbyes and then I follow Ben to his car. He walks around to open the door for me, but before I climb inside I take one last look at my apartment door. It’s a bittersweet feeling. I’ve only visited New York a handful of times and I’m not even sure if it’s something I’ll like. But this apartment is too comfortable, and comfort can sometimes be a crutch when it comes to figuring out your life. Goals are achieved through discomfort and hard work. They aren’t achieved when you hide out in a place where you’re nice and cozy.

I feel Ben’s arms wrap around me from behind. He rests his chin on my shoulder. “You having second thoughts?”

I shake my head. I’m nervous, but I’m definitely not having second thoughts.
Yet.

“Good,” he says. “Because I didn’t want to have to throw you in the trunk and drive you all the way to New York.”

I laugh, relieved he’s not like my father, selfishly trying to talk me out of taking this step. He keeps his arms wrapped around me as I turn around, but now I’m leaning against the car and he’s staring down at me. I don’t have much time to spare before I have to be checked in at the airport, but I don’t want to rush getting there when I can soak this up for a few more minutes. I’ll just run to my gate if I’m late.

“There’s a quote that reminds me of you, from Dylan Thomas. My favorite poet.”

“What is it?”

A slow smile warms its way across his mouth. He dips his head and whispers the quote against my lips. “‘I have longed to move away but am afraid; Some life, yet unspent, might explode.’”

Wow. He’s good. And he makes it even better by pressing his warm mouth to mine, holding my face in the palms of his hands. I reach up and thread my hands through his hair, allowing him to have complete control over the speed and intensity of this kiss. He keeps it soft and concise, and I imagine he kisses the same way he writes. Gentle strokes of the keys, each word thought through and completed with purpose.

He kisses me like he wants this kiss to be remembered. For which one of us, I don’t know, but I allow him to take as much as he can from this kiss and I give him as much as I have. And it’s perfect. Nice.
Really
Nice.

It’s as if he really is my boyfriend and this is something we should be doing all the time. Which brings me back to the fact that being too comfortable can be a crutch. With kisses like these, I could see myself easily falling into Ben’s life and forgetting how to live my own. Which is exactly why I need to follow through with this goodbye.

When the kiss finally breaks, he brushes the tip of his nose against mine. “Tell me something,” he says. “On a scale of one to ten, how book-worthy was our first kiss?”

He has perfect comedic timing. I smile and nip at his bottom lip. “At least a seven.”

He pulls back in shock. “Seriously? That’s all I get? A seven?”

I shrug. “I’ve read some great first kisses.”

He drops his head in mock regret. “I knew I should have waited. I could have made it a ten if I had a plan.” He steps back, releasing me. “I should have taken you to the airport and then as soon as you got to security, I could have dramatically called out your name and run toward you in slow motion.” He mimics the scene in slow motion, moving in place as he reaches an arm out toward me. “Faaallllooooon,” he says in a long, drawn-out voice. “Dooon’t Leeeave Meeeee!” I’m laughing hard when he stops acting out the scene and wraps his arms around my waist again.

“If you would have done it at the airport, it would have been at least an eight. Maybe a nine, depending on believability.”

“A nine? That’s it?” he says. “If that’s a nine, what the hell could make it a ten?”

I think about that. What
does
make kissing scenes in books so great? I’ve read enough of them, I should know.

“Angst,” I say. “Definitely need some angst to make it a ten.”

He looks confused. “Why would angst make it a ten? Give me some examples.”

I lean my head against the car and stare up at the sky as I think. “I don’t know, it depends on the situation. Maybe the couple isn’t allowed to be together, so the forbidden factor creates the angst. Or maybe they’ve been best friends for years and the unspoken attraction builds enough angst to make the kiss a ten. Sometimes infidelity creates good angst, depending on the characters and their situation.”

“That’s messed up,” he says. “So you’re saying if I were seeing another girl and I kissed you in the hallway like I did, it would have gone from a seven to a ten?”

“If you were seeing another girl, you would have never been inside my apartment to begin with.” I suddenly stiffen at the thought. “Wait. You don’t have a real girlfriend, do you?”

He shrugs. “If I did, would our next kiss be a ten?”

Oh, my God. Please don’t say I just became the other woman.

He sees the fear on my face and he laughs. “Relax. You’re the only girlfriend I have, and you’re about to break up with me and move across the country.” He leans in and kisses me on the side of my head. “Go easy on me, Fallon. My heart is fragile.”

I press my head against his chest and even though I know he’s kidding, part of me can’t help but feel genuinely sad about saying goodbye to him. I read reviews a lot for the audiobooks I narrate, so I’ve seen the comments about how readers would do anything to make book boyfriends real. Here I am, convinced I’m standing in the arms of one, and I’m about to walk away from him.

“When is your first audition?”

He sure does have a lot of faith in me. “I haven’t looked into it yet. Honestly, I’m kind of terrified to audition. I’m scared people will take one look at me and laugh.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“With being laughed at?” I ask. “For one, it’s humiliating. And it’s a confidence killer.”

He looks at me pointedly. “I
hope
they laugh at you, Fallon. If people are laughing at you, it means you’re putting yourself out there to be laughed at. Not enough people have the courage to even take that step.”

I’m glad it’s dark, because I can feel my cheeks flush. He’s always saying things that seem so simple, yet profound at the same time.

“You kind of remind me of my mother,” I tell him.

“That’s exactly what I was going for,” he says sarcastically. He pulls me against his chest again and kisses me on top of the head. I need to get to the airport, but I try to stall it as long as possible because the looming goodbye is haunting me.

“You think we’ll ever see each other again?”

His arms tighten around me. “I hope so. I would be lying if I said I’m not already plotting to hunt you down when you’re twenty-three. But five years is a long time, Fallon. Who knows what could happen between now and then. Hell, I didn’t even have hair on my nuts five years ago.”

I laugh again, just like I’ve done with almost everything else he’s said today. I don’t know that I’ve ever genuinely laughed this much with one person.

“You really should write a book, Ben. A romantic comedy. You’re kind of funny.”

“The only way I’d be willing to write a romance novel is if you’re one of the main characters. And
me
, of course.” He pulls back and smiles down at me. “I’ll make you a deal. If you promise to audition for Broadway, I’ll write a book about the relationship we couldn’t have thanks to distance and immaturity.”

I wish he were serious, because I love that idea. If it weren’t for the one glaring flaw. “We’ll never see each other again, though. How would we know if the other stuck to the plan?”

“We hold each other accountable,” he says.

“Again . . . we’ll never
see
each other after tonight. And I can’t give you my phone number.”

I know better than to give him a way to contact me. There’s too much I need to do on my own and if he had my phone number, my entire focus would be on what time each day he’s supposed to call me.

Ben releases me and takes a step back, folding his arms across his chest. He begins to pace back and forth as he chews on his bottom lip. “What if . . .” He stops and faces me. “What if we meet up again next year on the same day? And the year after that? We’ll do it for five years. Same date, same time, same place. We’ll pick up where we left off tonight, but only for the day. I’ll make sure you’re following through with your auditions and I can write a book about the days we’re together.”

I let his words sink in for a moment. I try to match the serious look on his face, but the prospect of seeing him once a year fills me with anticipation and I’m doing my best not to act too giddy. “Meeting up once a year on the same date sounds like a really good basis for a romance novel. If you fictionalized our story, I’d add it to the top of my TBR.”

Now he’s smiling. So am I, because the thought of being able to look forward to today’s date is something I never thought would happen. November 9th has been an anniversary I’ve dreaded since the night of the fire, and this is the first time the thought of that date leaves me with a positive feeling.