“What are you doing? We’re parked in the opposite direction.”
“Throwing him off our trail,” Ben called.
I rolled my eyes, which was nowhere near as effective as I wanted it to be, since we were now in the farthest part of the parking lot, past the lights, and it was so dark Ben couldn’t have seen. But I would admit—silently, to myself—there was something exhilarating about running like this. All your blood rushing, muscles alert and working. I could see why people did it.
Eventually, Ben looped us back in the direction of his Prius. When we finally reached it, I dropped to the grass and let the bottles roll away from me.
Ben crouched down. “Here,” he said, gathering the wine. “I’ll put this in the trunk.”
“Thanks,” I huffed, still catching my breath. “I’m going to need a minute. There’s a possibility all that weed is less than ideal for my lung capacity.”
His laugh came from the back of the car, followed by the thud of the trunk closing.
“Come on,” he said, extending a hand. “Let’s get you in the car.”
I took his hand and he pulled me up with so much strength I rocked off my toes. Show-off.
“You know we can’t drive home after all that wine.”
Ben opened the passenger door. “I know. But it’s cold out, and there are roaming Mendax employees with axes to grind. Best to get in.”
I obliged, hopping in and rubbing my arms in the passenger seat, waiting for Ben to climb around to the driver’s. He was right. In the festival there’d been patio heaters everywhere, but out here, once the flush of running wore off, the November chill was biting.
Ben jumped in and turned on the car. I pressed my hands against the heating vents, waiting for the air to warm.
His voice was deadpan, like he was narrating a movie trailer. “Two rogue political operatives, on the run from corporate villains.”
I turned to face him, hands still on the vents, which were thankfully starting to heat up. “Running from Eugene was the highlight of your life, wasn’t it? Don’t lie to me, you nerd.”
Ben leaned back in his seat. “Idorather feel like James Bond.”
A beat of silence passed, and then Ben couldn’t help himself, and turned to look at me. A self-satisfied smile spread over his face, growing wider and wider.
“Ben. Are you waiting for me to tell you you’reexactlylike James Bond?”
The smile became a grin, stretching ear to ear.
I settled back in my seat. “You are terminally goofy tonight.”
He shot me a wry look. “I’m starting to think it’s a side effect of hanging out with you. You should come with a doctor’s warning.”
I looked out the windshield, up at the dark night sky. “Universe, give me strength.”
There was a moment of silence. Then Ben’s voice, gone all quiet, filled it. “I broke up with Sarah.”
My head snapped in his direction. “What?”
“After we got back from Ely’s.”
My mind reeled. He’d broken up withSarah? The woman he’d moved back to Texas for? After Ely’s—that meant weeks ago. Is this why he’d been so grumpy and distant, so out of sorts? “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m telling you now.”
“Why did you break up with her? If you don’t mind me asking.” It was dangerous territory, but I would tread lightly.
Ben stretched out his hands and gripped the steering wheel. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “It just wasn’t working out.”
That was PR spin if I’d ever heard it. “It didn’t have anything to do with...you and me, in bed...right?”
