Rebel Hearts: Outside The Lines Part 21

A fling with Mindy f.u.c.king Abraham is right up there with a lunch date with Hitler. It's nothing to be taken lightly. He puts his hand on my arm and I flinch away.

"Felicity, don't be stupid."

A nerve is struck and my anger and self-doubt boil over, bubbling together into a deadly combination that sends me into rage mode. "I'm not being stupid! I guess I just finally see this."

"See what?"

"What this is, who I am to you."

"What the h.e.l.l are you talking about?"

"This!"

His eyes widen and he shakes his head. "You're not making sense. Calm down and let's talk about this like adults. If I knew it would cause such an issue, I never would have brought it up."

"Well, I'm glad you did because now I know the truth on where we stand." I must be a fling too. Nothing serious. Maybe I mean nothing to him too. The thought breaks my heart and instead of feeling sad, I'm p.i.s.sed. The anger will fade and the hurt will be setting in, but not yet. I'm mad now. I need to hold onto that anger while I can to protect myself.

No, I don't think rationally when I'm in an emotional crisis like this. "It makes sense now. You never took me to one of your fancy art shows. You're still seeing other people, bringing them to your house ... I saw the women's shoes there, by the way ... and I can't-" my voice breaks with emotion and my mind continues to whirl.

"Maybe it's my fault and I gave you the wrong impression because I slept with you on the first date. I don't do that. It's not who I am, but there was something special about you, something I couldn't ignore and you made me get carried away. It meant something to me, but I guess it meant nothing to you."

I stand and turn around, wiping away tears before Ben can see. Push him away before he pushes me. It's a subconscious defense mechanism and if I calmed down, I'd realize what I'm doing.

But I don't. I can't. Ben means too much to me that logic isn't going to apply right now.

He doesn't move. He doesn't speak. My heart pounds in my ears and each second that goes by makes me realize that my words are true. If they weren't, he'd protest, tell me I'm wrong, say he was sorry for messing with my head. The silence is killing me, and my mouth opens despite my better reasoning, saying I should shut the h.e.l.l up because I say things out of anger than I regret later. I know I do. Always have, always will.

"Then the office booty call ... The signs were in front of me. But I guess that's how you are with everyone, right?"

Still, all I get is silence from him.

"If I mean so little, then just go. Call up one of the other girls you're seeing or even Mindy."

I get nothing. Come on, Ben. At least be angry. Shout, yell. Tell me I'm right and that you don't care. Tell me I'm wrong and I'm stupid.

Just.

Say.

Something.

"That's what you think of me?" he finally says and his voice is broken.

"Yeah. It's obvious now."

He sharply inhales. "Felicity, that-no," he cuts off, shaking his head. "I thought you were different, but I guess I was wrong. I should go."

I whirl around, not expecting that. And I'm not expecting the hurt on his face.

Oh, f.u.c.k.

"Ben," I start but he's already on his way out. His hand is on the doork.n.o.b. He turns, eyebrows pushed together.

"I never asked you to go to my fancy art events because I always take my mom. It's her shoes you saw at my house by the way. She stays with me when she's not staying with my dad, who has memory problems after so many head injuries fighting in the war and needs round-the-clock care. You could have just asked me about it. I don't bring it up because it's not exactly fun to talk about, and most people here don't understand the culture on my mother's side, and see living with their parents as a burden. But I thought you would." He turns his head and our eyes meet for what I'm sure will be the last time. "I thought I loved you. I was wrong."

Then he leaves.

And it hits me all at once: I did the very thing to Ben I hate that people doing to me.

I judged him. I made a.s.sumptions and filled in the blanks with misinformation. I let my own insecurities get the best of me, and I let Mindy f.u.c.king Abraham ruin my life, nearly ten years after high school.

You've won, Mindy. Again.

My chest rapidly rises and falls and I suck back a sob. I blink and shake myself, then sprint to the door. But I'm too late. Ben is already pulling out of the driveway, driving down the street. I watch, tears filling my eyes, as the tail lights of his Audi disappear.

Suddenly I can't breath and it takes everything I have to go inside and close the door behind me. I fall onto the couch and cry. I messed up. Big time. I was so worried about getting hurt that I ended up hurting myself.

I am my own self-fulfilling prophecy.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

I don't know what to do. I wipe my eyes, sit up, and swallow a sob. My phone is in my purse, by the couch. I pick it up, madly rummage through for my phone, and call Ben. I get his voicemail. I wait a few seconds then call again. It rings once then goes to voicemail.

He hung up on me.

I close my eyes, barricading more tears, and try not to hyperventilate. He's mad right now. Just like I was. He needs time to calm down, and he's not even home yet. I fall back onto the couch and wait.

One minute goes by.

Then one more.

I want to call him again. Now. But it hasn't been enough time. My heart is still pounding, and I feel sick. I f.u.c.ked up. I said things out of anger and fear, things that make no sense and that I don't really believe.

He said he thought he loved me.

And now I know that I really do love him. I fell for him even though I didn't want to, even though I was sure he would hurt me.

I hurt him.

I hate myself for it.

And I have no idea how to make it better. I can't take back what I said. I can't delete this glitch, reprogram the day and start over. I bite my trembling lip and know the only thing I can do is tell Ben I'm sorry and wait for him to calm down enough to hear me out.

I call him again. Two rings then voicemail, and take a breath. The words die in my mouth and I'm hanging out without saying a word. I fall onto the couch, tears running down my face. I'm suddenly exhausted, and it feels like it takes an incredible amount of energy to put our dishes in the sink, grab a bottle of wine from the fridge, and go into my bedroom. I sink into bed and start drinking. I gulp it down, letting emotion be my guide, and soon I'm feeling sick before my mind hazes over. But I don't stop now. I keep drinking until I literally can't and pa.s.s the f.u.c.k out.

I want to wake up and have everything be better.

But that doesn't happen. Instead, I wake up hours later feeling like roadkill warmed over, with a dry mouth and a full, angry bladder. I check my phone-no missed calls-and get up to pee. I shower because that just seems to make sense. Warm water pours over me and then I'm crying again, sinking down to the shower floor.

I messed up. Again. I let my insecurities get the better of me. Two times in my life I've thrown something amazing away. The first time it was because I didn't want my s.h.i.+tty-a.s.s boyfriend to leave me, and now it was because I didn't want to get hurt. So I hurt Ben instead.

I crawl out of the shower, dry off, and collapse into bed. I set my alarm for work in the morning and let sorrow and sleep pull me into darkness.

"Rough weekend?" Mariah asks when I sit at my desk the next day. My eyes are puffy from crying. Ben never called me back, and he never answered my calls. Things were over between us, and I wanted to be mad at him for not even trying.

But I'm not.

"You can say that," I mumble. "Drank too much. Have a headache." I don't want to be short, but I think that gets my point across so she'll leave me alone. I don't want to talk to anyone. I don't want to explain what happened or even think about it for a second more than I have it. Because if I do, I'll start crying again.

Ben is the best thing that's ever happened to me. He is everything I want, and everything I need. And I didn't just let him slip away, I opened the door and kicked him in the a.s.s, forcing him out of my life.

I turn to my computer, not even sure what I should be doing. It takes me a few minutes to get my mind to focus, and I put everything into this new a.s.signment. And as if the universe didn't hate me enough, the site I'm designing is for a local wedding dress shop.

Not only is my heart broken, but I have no date for my brother's wedding. Ben won't be there with me, talking and dancing and secretly laughing at how Danielle freaked out over details when none of that really matters. I'll be alone, like I'm sure I'll be the rest of my life.

Because you don't meet someone like Ben Hartford more than once in a lifetime.

For the first time ever, I find myself dreading the end of the day. Work goes by slowly, but it's at least a distraction. I kept my phone on my desk all day, just in case Ben called or texted me.

He doesn't.

And I'm not sure if I should call again. I did more than once yesterday and got nothing. I've been trying to convince myself he's still just mad and this will all blow over, but when I walk to my car that evening and still haven't heard from him, I know it's more than that.

I want to get be mad at him and say he's being dramatic. But really I know that he must really have meant it when he said he loved me, because only people you care for deeply can hurt you that badly.

The more you love someone, the deeper the wound. I don't like making anyone feel bad about anything. Knowing I said things that hurt Ben's heart kills me and makes me feel no better than Mindy f.u.c.king Abraham.

I get into my car and put my head in my hands. It's hot in here, and I can hardly breathe. I need to turn the air on, open the windows ... something. But I'm a glutton for punishment right now, punishment I deserve.

My phone rings and you'd think I had three seconds left to cut the wire on a bomb for how fast I dig that sucker out of my purse. It's not Ben. It's Erin, and I don't want to answer. It's not that I don't want to talk to her, but I don't want to tell her about Ben and start crying again. Because I know I will.

I feel guilty as I ignore the call. I start the car and tell myself I'll call her when I get home, where I can ugly cry my heart out in the privacy of my own home. I keep my phone on my lap in case Ben decides to get a hold of me.

He doesn't.

Not on the way home, not throughout dinner, not even during the four hours I marathon watched Doctor Who, eating ice cream and feeling sorry for myself. I'm holding onto hope, but that hope is slipping away.

By the time I should get ready for bed, I call Erin.

"Hey, lady," she says, upbeat as usual. "Just wanted to make sure you got home and everything okay. You didn't log on to any of your accounts last night."

I close my eyes. "I know. I did make it home."

"Uh, but everything isn't okay?"

"No, it's not." Then I start crying, and tell her about the stupid fight and how I said things I shouldn't have because I have no filter and don't know how to stop myself when I get started. "I ruined everything," I sob, wiping my eyes. I tuck my legs underneath myself and lean back on the couch. Ser Pouch sits next to me, offering me what little comfort his a.s.shole self can.

"No, you didn't," Erin a.s.sures me. "You got in a fight. It happens. Do you know how many time Dave and I got into fights? If you do, tell me, because I lost track a long time ago. People fight, Lissy, it happens. What happens next determines your fate. Tell him you're sorry and explain that the word vomit is a result of being insecure. I think he'll understand."

My eyes are puffy from crying. I blink a few times and take a shaky breath. "I don't think Ben knows how insecure I am, and I think once he does he won't feel the same, well the same like he did before the fight. I will apologize the first chance I get but I have a feeling explaining why I said what I did won't help."

"I disagree. He said he loved you. I'm sure he still does. You don't just stop loving someone. Falling out of love isn't really a decision. It just happens, and it usually happens gradually. Call him. Go to him, just talk to him."

"I'll call," I say and feel nervous about it already. "I just want things to go back to how they are."

"People fight. People make up. Then they come out stronger in the end."

"You make it sound so easy."

"It's not easy, hun," she tells me. "Nothing about relations.h.i.+ps are easy, really. They take work. Hang up and call him."

"Okay. I will."

"Good. Love you, Lissy. Call me if you need me, anytime."

"I know. And thanks, Erin." We hang up and I decide I need to clear my head and mentally go over what I'm going to say to Ben. I get in the shower, make my lunch for tomorrow, and settle into bed. I have 2% left on my phone. Heaving a sigh, I get out of bed to retrieve my charger, then plug in my phone before laying back down, intending on getting up in a half hour or so to call him.

I end up dozing off, my thoughts on the good times I had with Ben over the weekend. I don't want to wake up and step out of my dreamy mind. When I wake up, it's one AM an too late to call. I'm relieved, actually. It's one more day that I can hold onto the false hope.

I'm calling Ben after work today. I have to. I didn't yesterday, and there is no more putting it off. Tuesday actually goes by fast, as the dread of being hung up on or told to get lost haunts me. I run through everything and decide the best is him saying it's okay, he forgives my stupid mouth, and wants to see me tonight. We have mind-blowing s.e.x and things are fine.

The worst. Well, I can't really decide. The worst involves him telling me he never wants to see me again in some sense. The words that surround it will determine how much wine I need to buy on the way home.

I feel bad but avoid Cameron. He has to know something is up because I've been quiet, and didn't sneak any extra donuts throughout the day. I pretend like I leave for lunch but really take my egg salad sandwich and apple slices into my car and eat while listening to upbeat music to keep my mood in check.

I get back to my desk and go over an email sent to me from the owners of the wedding dress shop. They want customer photos included, and I glower at the happy faces and kissing couples.

Ah, f.u.c.k. I need to tell my brother I don't have a date to the wedding, though by now they've turned in the number to the caterer. Erin is already invited and RSVP'd for herself and David, so I can't take her as my plus one. Danielle is so a.n.a.l about everything I'm sure I'll get an earful about the wasted plate later. h.e.l.l, if it's that big of a deal, I'll eat two meals.

I take my time finis.h.i.+ng up for the day, giving time for the parking lot to mostly clear. I parked in the back, facing the street so if I break down, it's possible no one will see me before I make my getaway.

My heart is racing as I walk out. Clouds rolled over the bright sun and the air is humid. I drop my keys I'm shaking so badly. I pick them up, close my eyes, and take a breath. I can do this. I can do it for Ben. For us.

I toss my purse into the back and sit in the driver's seat. I crank the AC, turn the radio off, and get out my phone. My fingers tremble as I pull up Ben's number. Without giving myself a second to hesitate, I press on his name.

I put the phone to my ear and swallow the lump in my throat. The phone rings and rings. He's not going to answer. I get his voicemail, and hearing his voice, even though it's recorded, hits me in the face and I miss him so much.

"Ben," I say. "It's me, Felicity. Ben I'm ... I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said. I'm not the girl who's used to having someone amazing like you like me, and I panicked. I convinced myself you were going to leave me, that you really didn't like me to protect myself and I'm such an idiot. Ben, please know I'm so so sorry. It might not make sense, I know, but I pushed you away to keep myself safe and in the end I hurt us both."