Series: Cobalt Empire Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 234
Estimated words: 226965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1135(@200wpm)___ 908(@250wpm)___ 757(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 226965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1135(@200wpm)___ 908(@250wpm)___ 757(@300wpm)
A deep scowl seizes my face. “You’re leaving New York in November?” I roll those acidic words on my tongue. That’s two months away. “You just talked about taking a P.E. class with me next semester.”
He goes pale. “I shouldn’t have offered that. Sorry.” He places the popcorn bag over on the side table, so nothing is between us, then scrapes another hand through his hair. “When I’m around you or talking to you, I sometimes forget that I’m not planning on staying.” His voice is tight—like a knot is in his throat.
I feel it in mine.
My breath cages, and I try my best to stifle the sudden, swelling pain that permeates through me. “Where are you going?”
Ben’s voice stays hushed. “The wilderness. Somewhere remote.”
“Going to live off the grid, nature boy?”
“Something like that.”
My stomach twists. “I was joking.”
He tries to smile, but it looks pained. “I’m not though.” My future friendship with Ben takes a serious nosedive. I could never live off the grid, and how would I even visit him? I can’t imagine hiking through dense foliage. Mosquitoes alone terrify me. Would there even be cell reception? I hate the idea of losing our phone calls. Of never being able to talk to him again. I think that’s the worst part.
He glances warily at the hallways that lead to the bedrooms. “My brothers don’t know.”
“I won’t tell them.” Another secret to keep. Being quiet, I speak under my breath. “Does being broke have to do with this remote wilderness plan?”
“Yeah, in a way.” Before I ask, he says, “You won’t be able to call. You could write though.”
I swallow hard. “Will you write back?”
He nods.
“Why are you going?” I ask. But the question I really want answered is: Is there any way I can convince you to stay? I can’t manage it. It feels like too much of an ask from me.
“It’s something I just really need to do. I planned to go a while back, before moving to New York, but my brothers—they’re persistent.” Maybe he misses nature, and he has some sort of soul-deep calling to be in the woods.
I don’t know what else to say to him. Tension pulls all my muscles taut, and I’m glad he put the popcorn away because I’ve completely lost my appetite. But I can’t loosen my grip off my legs. Hugging them to my chest gives me protection from feeling utterly fucking exposed.
My eyes burn as I focus on the laptop screen, unable to even glance at Ben.
He was never really mine, so I don’t understand why I feel so shattered at the idea of losing him.
“Harriet…” His voice is a soft, broken whisper. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m not upset,” I lie. “I’m just processing. It’s not like I expected us to be best friends forever and graffiti Ben and Harriet BFF on a toilet stall. That would be silly. We’re just hanging out for a few months, sharing a class, working together. It’s not that deep.” I partly say the words out loud to make sure my subconscious is getting this memo. The other part is to see Ben’s reaction.
His lips flatline, but he nods tensely. “But to be clear,” he tells me. “I’ve never invited a friend to spend the night with me. I’m usually over their house, so it might not be that deep but it’s not my norm.”
It might not be that deep.
But it’s not his norm.
I’m a vessel for conflicted emotions. His words are a paradox gifted with a bow. Maybe I shouldn’t have said “it’s not that deep” to begin with. The lie hurts. This has been the deepest friendship I’ve ever had, and we’ve only been hanging out for a month and a half. I just didn’t expect him to agree with me—but I’m an idiot because I rolled those dice.
I don’t know how to do this. Friendships. Relationships that last longer than a full moon. I’m saying the wrong things in some wasted effort to protect my heart.
At least he told you, Harriet.
At least he didn’t just leave out of the blue.
“What’s your favorite movie?” he asks.
My eyes sear as I restrain more emotion. “Sugar & Spice. I don’t think you’ll like it though.”
He frowns. “Why not?”
“It’s about a group of cheerleaders who plan to rob a bank when one of them gets pregnant. It’s a chick flick.”
“I have a little sister, remember? I’m well-acquainted with chick flicks. Let’s do it.” He’s clicking on his laptop and pulling up the film. He keeps glancing at me. Not that I’ve made eye contact. I am successfully avoiding that. But I can feel the heat of his concern bearing on me in three-second increments.
He nudges my shoulder with his. “Harriet,” he breathes. “Can you look at me at least?”
I bite the inside of my lip before turning my head and catching the depth of his baby blues.