“Well it never rang! It—” Ben swipes his grandfather’s phone off the counter, setting the ringer off silent and to an audible level. “I don’t see why house phones fell out of fashion. This wouldn’t be a problem,” Theodore grumbles, shuffling towards Ben.
I watch Ben explain the mechanics of keeping your phone off silent to his grandfather, all too aware of how he patiently re-explains every confusion Theodore has. When he’s done, he checks the dates on his perishables in the fridge, reviews the log for the caretaker who comes once a week, and enlists me to call in his favorite lasagna from a restaurant down the road. He radiates calm, reassurance, safety— love. Before we leave, Popreleases his walker to envelope me in a bony embrace. He backs away slightly, just enough to peer into my eyes for a moment.
He lets out a decisive “hmph,” kisses my cheek, and retreats back to his walker before saying goodbye to Ben, quietly grumbling as he does. Ben’s soft gaze hardens, Pop smiles sympathetically, and I feel like an intruder.
“And remember to charge your phone!” Ben throws over his shoulder when we leave, just as Theodore shuts and locks his door.
“Thank you for coming with me. Pop— grandfather, can be a handful.”
“Why don’t you call him Pop? He obviously prefers it.”
“A story for another day. Maybe if you meet my family one day, you’ll understand,” he answers.
“Ha! Unlikely,” I scoff, feeling increasingly bitter after being referred to as a tedious errand. I may be exaggerating, but feelings are subjective.
“Olivia,” Ben interrupts as my internal thoughts spiral, lightly grabbing my arm to stop me just before his car. “What’s wrong?” he asks, concern floating in his gaze.
I contemplate saying that nothing is wrong, but that feels like waste of this moment, on this day that was meant to be an indulgence. Instead, I indulge myself by speaking my mind.
“Why did you even come with me?”
“Where is this coming from?” His confusion is palpable.
“Well, I can’t say I appreciated the way you introduced me.” He tilts his head, asking for clarity. “You said you were ‘just running an errand.’ You made it sound like I was…” I trail off, realizing I’m being dramatic.
“Like you were what?” he asks, steadily, like he’s acutely listening to me.
Indulging myself, remember?I take a shallow breath, rolling my eyes at myself. “Like I was an inconvenience. Which I nowrecognize is silly when I say it aloud, considering you literally offered to—” I’m stopped by the warmth of his palms, pressing through my sweater and to my shoulders.
“No, don’t logic your way out of your feelings. I’m sorry I made it sound like you were an inconvenience, Olivia. You are anything but that.” His hands travel from my shoulders to my back, crossing each other until I’m surrounded by him. I press my cheek into the solid warmth in front of me, unconsciously breathing in cedar and rain and the questionably erotic scent of manly exertion that most certainly came from lugging my bags up and down the cobbled streets.
When he releases me his gaze is heated, and the moment feels like it sits on the edge of a mountain, just waiting to be pushed over or reeled back in.
“That was quite a hug, Cabot,” I remark, smiling at him in gratitude.
He opens the passenger door, nodding in acknowledgment as he gazes just above my head, but I swear I can still see the warmth in his eyes. Then, he drives me home.
15
Ben
I almost kissed her. Again.
That thought intermittently interjects itself mid sentence, off and on, all day, just like it did yesterday. It invaded my thoughts every time I’d glance at Olivia, sitting beside me seemingly unaware of the calamity I want to cause when I’m near her, unfazed by the heat that rolls between us like the unbearable heat waves of summer. So unbothered, so cool, so… neutral, that I doubt that she even feels it.
The icy chill of the lab room, as well as the sterile stench of lab equipment, does a good enough job of dousing the fire I’ve come to associate with being around Olivia. It takes every ounce of my self control not to act on pure instinct around her. The drive to hug her, kiss her,hold her hand, is unsettling, and it needs to stop. If her indifference to me this morning was any indication, or the way she let Will squeeze her ass after seminar— in full view of everyone, that delicious flush creeping up her neck the way it does when she’s flustered— she doesn't want me to act on pure instinct. I need to start showing some restraint. Thankfully, we don’t need to spend any time together for our class this week, so putting some space between us should be easy enough. In theory.
“Ben the Bogart!” Andrew exclaims with childish glee. I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me when I feel him and Grant sidle up beside me on our way to the practice gym. “Pleasetell me we have plans tonight. Please. When I tell you this one,” he shoots a playful glare at Grant, “is too polite to pick up anyone at a bar anymore! Unbelievable. Thank god you’re here.”
And while the idea of going out and picking up anyone whoisn’tOlivia makes me slick with unease, it’s exactly what I need to do to snuff out this fire I keep feeding.
“Yeah… we have plans. But you can’t call me Bogart when we go out later. Actually, can you stop calling me that in general?” I say, eyebrows raised.
“Thank you,” he says in mock exasperation, clasping his hands together. Andrew, while an invaluable member of the team, is also a bit of a theatrical person. He is literally involved in the theater department. Our own, slightly aged, Troy Bolton. “No can do on the Bogart thing, though. We can start at Pub 24 and make our way around the city center. I’m tired of Astor girls.”
“Or they’re tired of you,” Grant taunts with a grin and the shake of his head.
“Either way, I think it’s time to dabble in new waters,” Andrew retorts, making a show of his declaration by spreading his arms wide, knocking into me and Grant.
