Bennet shifted closer, his arm brushing mine again, unthinking and natural. He looked comfortable. Happy.
I swallowed.
“No, that’s not right,” I said, my mouth dry but the warm beer in my hand resembling poison.
Bennet frowned and cocked his head a little. Peanut showed up by my side, the loyal companion that he was, lending me courage by pushing his nose into the back of my leg as if to nudge me closer to Bennet. “What do you mean?” Bennet asked, tensing.
Did he really expect me to walk back on every sweet thing I had ever told him? Did he really think I hadn’t fallen in love with him by now?
“I like you,” I said, repeating myself clumsily. “But it’s more than that, Bennet. I…there’s no other way to say it. I love you. I really do. You’re all I think about, and I can’t shake it off. I love you.”
Bennet blinked four times in rapid succession. Peanut whimpered, embarrassed on my behalf. A bottle thudded against the soft carpet covering the hardwood floor, and all three of us looked to the empty hand and the gaping mouth and the wide eyes. Rowan’s green gaze swept from my face to Bennet’s, then to the bottle on the floor. “Don’t mind me. I just stumbled into a private conversation.” He bent down and picked up the bottle. “Looking for a bottle opener…” hemumbled to no one in particular, then latched onto the first person he saw. “Hey, what do you think about CERN shutting down the research on…” His voice blended with the laughter and music.
Bennet didn’t move.
For a second, I wondered if the music had swallowed my words whole, if I’d said it too quietly or too fast and it hadn’t landed the way it had detonated inside my chest. But then he swallowed, visibly, his throat bobbing, and I knew he’d heard every syllable.
“Oh,” he said.
Just that. One small sound, stretched thin with surprise.
The silence between us felt enormous. The bass kept thudding, people brushed past, they laughed too loudly, they shouted lyrics they didn’t know, but none of it reached us. I could hear my own breathing, a little too quick, a little too shallow. I felt suddenly exposed, like I’d taken off something essential in public and only just realized it.
Bennet’s hands lifted, then stalled halfway between us, like he wasn’t sure where they belonged anymore. His eyes searched my face with a kind of frantic care, as if he was afraid of choosing the wrong thing to say and breaking me irreparably.
“Jason,” he said slowly, gently, like he was approaching a skittish animal. “I…”
There it was. The pause.
I nodded once, sharp and reflexive, like I was helping him along. “You don’t have to,” I said quickly.Too quickly. “I know. I mean, I don’t know, obviously, but I get it. That was a lot. I shouldn’t have…”
“No,” he said immediately. His hand finally landed, light but firm, fingers curling around my wrist like an anchor. “No, don’t do that.”
His touch grounded me and unraveled me at the same time.
“I’m not saying it’s bad,” he continued, brows drawing together. “I’m just… I’m surprised. You’re very…” He huffed out a breath, almost a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “You’re very intense.”
The word hit exactly where it always did.
I smiled because my body didn’t know what else to do. “Yeah,” I said. “I’ve heard that one before.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “I mean… God, Jason, you’re important to me. You matter to me. A lot. I think about you all the time. I just didn’t…” He trailed off, visibly frustrated with himself, cheeks flushing. “I didn’t expect this. Not like this.”
I felt the drop in my stomach, slow and sickening, like an elevator giving out beneath my feet.
“Oh,” I said, this time quieter.
“We haven’t even gone on a date yet,” Bennet said.
Damn. He was right. I’d dropped the ball hard on that one. Weeks had gone by, and all we’d done was Stats, sex, and more Stats because you could never have enough of that. “You’re right,” I assured him, trying to keep my voice light. It damn cracked in the middle of it.
He squeezed my wrist, like he could feel me slipping. “I care about you,” he said, earnest and unwavering. “I’m here. I like this, whatever this is. I just need…” He searched my face again, voice softening. “I need to make sure…” His eyebrows knitted together. He heard it, too.
The words settled heavily between us.
I nodded again, because nodding was easier than admitting how much it hurt. Easier than saying that I’d sworn I wouldn’t do this again, that I’d promised myself I’d be careful, that I’d failed spectacularly anyway.
“That’s fair,” I said, forcing lightness into my voice like I always did. “I’m sorry if I freaked you out.”