"Ben," I say softly, voice too small for what I mean. "You don't have to feel alone. If you ever need anyone to talk to, I'm here."
"Yeah. Thanks, Emma," he says, voice low, before his head whips toward Paul who appears out of nowhere with Jonah.
"Hey. You two coming for the cacao ceremony?"
Ben's up instantly, hands reaching for me before I can even think.
There's that ripple of glances from the guys again that I don't understand.
"You guys go—" I start.
Ben's voice cuts in, firm. "No. We're coming."
"I'm tired and need at least thirty minutes of silence," I protest.
He steps closer and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "I want you to come."
I look up at him. "Okay... I'll come."
14
By the time I get to the fire, the circle is already formed and full. Everyone's laughing, loud and loose, and Ben's there, sitting between a guy I don't know and a girl who definitely wants to know him, and he's talking with his hand like he always does. Not over the top. More like he's convincing someone of something because that's what he does—he convinces and persuades and draws you in without even blinking.
And his smile's back, which I should not care about but apparently, I do because my chest goes light.
So light that I get annoyed at myself.
He looks up, catches me, and crooks his fingers at me, likecome here. I shake my head, give him a littleit's finehand flick and sit across the fire instead, like the good girl I'm pretending to be.
He frowns, just for a second, but sharp enough to let me know he doesn't like it.
But after earlier—my hand on his back, which was nothing, it meant nothing, except maybe it didn't, maybe it did—well, this feels safer.
Paul and Mara are plonked in the circle right between us. Mara sits on top of Paul, the two of them constantly kissing despite her feather crown jabbing his eye. Comforting—someone making their intention obvious.
I turn to the girl next to me, Ananya, who tells me abouther dream to open a cat café, which sounds sweet, so I smile until she gets up, goes for the big clay bowl with a ladle and when she comes back, it lands straight in my lap.
"Today," she says, smiling at the group, "we share what's been on our hearts."
And just like that, my smile falters.
Everyone's eyes are on me as I grip the ladle tightly.
I don't do unscripted vulnerability. For me, small talk comes with prep-talk and I'd rehearse flow state if that was possible.
I take a quick sweep around to gauge how bad it would be if I just ran for it. Then take a deep breath.
I came here for a reason, didn't I? I have to try to let go.
The cacao hits my tongue, tasting like soil dressed up as medicine, and I stall on the sip, while everyone's patiently waiting.
There are about ten heartstrings I could pull from, from childhood all the way to the present day, but I'm not masochistic enough to unravel any of them, so I keep it neat the way I always do.
"I wish I could duct-tape my thoughts sometimes, just go with the feeling, instead of overthinking every damn thing."
"That's beautiful. Why don't you?" Ananya asks.
I wasn't really expecting a follow up, but decide to answer anyway.
