Ben: I can’t stop thinking about you . . .
Sera: ;) Me too.
Ben: When the hell is she going to leave?
Sera: Doesn’t look like any time soon.
Ben: Come round to my place tomorrow night after you’ve finished your shift?
Sera: Okay.
Ben: So it’s a date?
I tried not to smile.
Sera: Fine. You win. It’s a date.
Ben: About fucking time. P.S. You’ve got me so turned on right now I think I’m going to have to take care of myself.
I half choked slash spat out my wine.
“What?” Becks asked looking curious. “Bad news?”
I shook my head. “Nooo. Just, just . . . you know?”
“Men?” she asked pointedly and then looked me up and down.
I nodded and “uummed” at her, as if we were sharing some girl bonding thing. Something very unfamiliar to me. I’d missed out on the wholeteen girl late night gossipthing years ago while I was fishing my drunken father up off the floor and working so that the family could eat. Another message pinged on my phone.
Ben: You could always come over later and help me?
This time I tried not to splutter and show the redness that I’m sure had just flushed across my cheeks. I put my phone away and wished that was the case. The last thing I wanted was to be sitting here having small chat.
Sera: I’ll see you tomorrow night after work.
Ben: I’ll be waiting up for you.
The next day passed in such an exhausted haze. We all woke up early and headed out to the desert again where we watched Giovanni taking pictures of various car parts. Then we caught that same tin can to the international airport, then flew all the way back to Johannesburg and said our goodbyes at the airport. It was Sunday, so at least we’d all get a bit of rest before work in the morning. I landed up catching a taxi back home, I’d secretly been hoping that Ben could take me, but he had a family thing this afternoon.
When I arrived home I had the house to myself. JJ and Bruce were doing the stocktake and I was only too happy to wiggle out of that one. I was also feeling rather anxious about seeing Ben later, and it would be sooner than he’d expected. He’d forgotten that I didn’t have work on a Sunday so he’d be seeing me a whole lot earlier than planned. Not that he would mind. I sat and watched the clock until it finally hit 6 p.m. I hadn’t heard or seen him come back, but since it was early evening—technically—his afternoon family thing should be over and I was eager to rush over there and surprise him. I did one last obsessive hair and face check, before rushing out the door to his house.
But the second he came to the door and saw me, I knew something was wrong.
I should have turned away and walked back home, but I didn’t.
“Hi.”
“Hey.” He seemed totally distracted and glanced behind himself nervously, as if someone was in his house. “I thought you were going to work tonight.” His tone was strange, I’d never heard his voice like that before, nor had I ever seen the strange, almost unreadable look that played on his face.
“I don’t have work tonight.” I studied his face in silence and it was very obvious that something was up.
“Ben?” There was a desperation in my voice that I couldn’t hide.
He said nothing. An invisible force punched me in the stomach and I knew something was very wrong. My suspicions were confirmed when Ben crept out and closed the door behind him quietly—What was he hiding?
“Now is not really the best time,” he said. “I’ve kind of got . . .” He paused and looked guilty as hell. “. . . company.”
“Company? Oh.” Images of Angie and Cindy and gold condom wrappers flashed through my mind as I looked at him and tried not to show the utter hurt on my face. Meanwhile, my insides turned to mush.
