Nicknames start flying, questions volley back and forth likethey've clocked years together, and Ben's mood slightly elevates, just not around me. He barely spares me a glance before he disappears with Jonah and Paul out of our camp, leaving me with the burn in my chest.
Meanwhile, Mara and I go back into our tent to freshen up.
She props up the small mirror she hauled from home and spreads her army of brushes and pins across the blanket.
Just as she dusts something shimmering over my cheekbones that almost makes me choke, I cough it out. "Mara? Did Ben actually elope to Vegas?"
She pauses with the brush above my cheekbone. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm just still pissed about it. Forget it."
I purse my lips. Mara is that annoyingly amazing friend who never talks about you behind your back and never spills your secrets—definitely not Ben's—but I try to push anyway. "I mean, it's just so unlike him."
"I know." Her jaw locks tight.
"Was it his idea?"
"I don't know. He changed a lot."
"After the wedding?"
She shakes her head, exhaling like it burns.
"Even before," she says and pauses, then sighs, her eyes growing heavier. "It's a long story, but with her, he hides things. A lot."
I look at her curiously. "Hides? Why?"
"I think he feels guilty. Mamma cried for weeks when she found out about the wedding because she wanted to plan something beautiful, but he just showed up and announced it.No explanation." She snorts bitterly. "Definitely not his style, which makes me think, yeah—it was all her."
I hesitate, then push while the door's cracked open. "How did he meet her?"
"During one of his shifts. She cut her hand, he patched her up and she came back with some bullshit story about how she wrote about a man like him into her teenage diary. Then she was all around him. They started dating right away. After meeting her, he seemed a bit happier, which made us happy too. He said he'd never met anyone like her—" She falters when she sees my face blanch and leans in, face apologetic. "Babe, don't make me the villain here. Ask him yourself. You know he hates when I talk for him."
She dusts a final sweep of shimmer over my cheek and beams. "I have to stay alive at least until I become Mrs. Paul Dalton, so I can haunt him forever if he misbehaves."
I smile on cue, but inside, Mara's words keep circling:hides things... not his idea... never met anyone like her.
They scorch hotter than the desert sun, but the truth is we made our choices, and after that brutal fight, maybe the air's cleared.
Maybe it's time I tell him I'm glad he's happy.
Maybe.
13
I roam the desert, past the metallic gods rising, their steel bones catching the afternoon sun. Dust licks my ankles, and everyone else seems blissfully distracted—faces painted gold, neon wings fluttering and all that—but here I am, hunting Ben through it all like a woman on a mission.
Because I don't want him thinking about the stupid jabs I said, and even when I'm mad, I still take him as mine—friend, phantom... whatever.
When I finally find him, he's in a patch of shade under a makeshift canopy with Paul, Jonah, and some other guys.
Hookah smoke drifts lazily, mixing with the scent of watermelon, but I know Ben doesn't smoke it. He hates all kinds of drugs.
He's half turned away, forearms braced on his knees, lost deep in thought.
"Ben?"
His head snaps up immediately, that reflexive smile flickering across his face before his eyes harden as he straightens. "Yeah?"
"Can you take a little walk with me?"
