"Hello, Richard," he says when he makes it to us. "Elbow's healing?"
I go still, completely thrown by the fact he's smiling at Richard like they're old friends.
"Much better, thank you." Hands meet, firm. "Lauren was wonderful. Great team."
Lauren? Who the hell is sexy-sounding Bond-girl Lauren?And who exactly am I jealous of—Richard or Ben?
Ben hasn't looked at me yet, he keeps his attention on Richard. "She's been talking about you nonstop. Says you're her favorite patient ever. You should come again."
I narrow my eyes as Richard laughs.
They launch into some hypnotic banter while my eyes ricochet from one to another. Both are born charmers. But Richard is champagne in a crystal flute you sip in a walled garden. Ben is grappa, straight from the bottle at midnight during a wildfire.
"Glad you made it," Ben says, giving Richard another smile, before he finally turns, and—he skips me?! He goes straight to Lisa and swallows her in a hug so tight I disappear with it.
"You got us the better court?" he asks her.
"I told you, leave it up to me," she says and tilts her head dangerously close to his mouth. I hope she's not angling for a kiss. Don't want to be in the news for assault with a racket.
But she only scolds: "I told you to be here earlier. You're late. As always."
"And you're the best. Don't know what I'd do without you," Ben says, clutching her tighter, eyes doing that trick that works on everyone. Damn manipulator.
I hope I'm doing somewhat a good job at suppressing my sour face.
His eyes flick to me. "Emma..."
So this is me. Finally. Finally, I exist. He makes it sound like I materialized from thin air.
"Ben," I say his name like it's a weight.
He leans in for a half-hearted hug, and I don't know whether to inhale every molecule of him or shove him headfirst into the net.
When he pulls away, his eyes roam my neck. He wants to remind me what he did, and I hate that my body betrays me and I swallow, letting him know I remember too.
A brief smirk passes his lips, and then he pulls out a paper bag from his duffel and drops it on the table.
"Sorry I'm late, but I got you guys something."
Lisa leans in. "What's this?"
Ben opens it and my face goes flat.
"Cherries," he says. "Not just any—Central Valley, last of the season. Sweetest thing you'll ever taste." He glances at me, and the corner of his mouth curls toward ruthless. "Winner takes the whole bag."
My pupils must be pinpricks because I get it—Ben didn't invite Richard because he wanted to befriend him. This isn't a truce.
He wants war.
18
"Ladies," Ben says, gesturing toward the court with that smile that used to make my day. Now I'd smash it.
I tighten my grip on the handle and step into the brutal sun.
Screw him, and those cherries. Summer-stained, sweet like youth, my most favorite.
He used to buy them for me every summer and the ritual was we'd binge-watch cult classics while I overate till I got sick.
