Leave it Unread

Chapter 9

"What?" I whisper, acting oblivious as Kathleen smile's her infamous I'm-going-to-fuck-you-up-with-words face. Ben's eyes are scanning Kathleen before returning to me, his lips slightly parting before they close completely shut.

"She's, uh..." He looks back at Kathleen as she stands in front of us, her eyes darting back and forth between me and Ben before she crosses her arms and settles on me as the target.

"Hey, Noey!"

"Noey?" Ben whispers, his body now turned completely towards me as his eyebrows knit together. "This was... This is the Kathleen you mentioned?" 

"Hello, Ben. It's so nice to finally meet you!" Kathleen's upbeat nature disguises her complete aggravation with me as I'm suddenly invisible again. I have a flashback for a split second of sixth grade when Muhanned Omar decided to share his french fries with me, which warranted in a two-day silent treatment from Kathleen. The antidote, you ask? Telling Omar that Kathleen could get him access to a limited edition Baseball card he had spent a year looking for with his dad, which landed well, considering they ended up dating for a solid six days.

"Uh, hey, in the flesh." Ben smiles widely before getting up, reaching out to shake Kathleen's hand and settling on a hug instead. My eyes wander between them as I mentally leave the situation, finding myself on some beach for once where neon lights are instead palm trees and coconuts...

"Noelle has told me all about you! Actually, speaking of which, do you mind if I borrow her for a split second?" Ben's eyes dart back to me before he smiles back at Kathleen.

And it's in that moment that I realize that one of my outcomes rings true above all--it's the perception I had of Ben after I found out he was talking to Kathleen. Once they would meet in person with me in the mix, I'd simply be in the mix, but never a part of their dynamic. Suddenly I'm not Barrymore. I'm just Noelle.

"Sure, can I grab you a coffee?" Ben smiles down at her as she flashes him a full-lipped smile, cherry red without a smudge of defiance, nodding as he walks away.

"You know him?" Her tone is cruel, piercing knives through me as I think of what my favorite romance heroine would do in this moment.

There are two ways to go about this, I decide:

1. I tell Kathleen that I'm calling it quits, that I'll move out of our damn dorm if it means I get peace from her love conquests. Hell, I'll even ask Professor Michaelson to give me a new peer-review partner. Ben will never know I was a part of Kathleen's mission.

2. I tell Kathleen that with the busy schedules we have had, I didn't have the time or energy to explain that Ben was my classmate. I'll grovel and apologize for keeping it secret.

And, you see, option one would solve all of my deeply rooted issues of docility, but option two is what ends up escaping my lips.

"I wanted to tell you," I whisper, avoiding making eye contact. "He's my classmate, K, I'm sorry. I wanted to explain it, but you were so-"

"What, do you like him or something?" She spits out, smiling widely as Ben looks at her in admiration. If I was lying to myself, he totally wasn't checking her out. But since I'm honest with myself always, his eyes could barely avoid leaving her stature since she came up to us.

"Like him? Kathleen, I barely know him."

"So why didn't you want to help me talk to him?" Her eyes are piercing into mine, the way that makes me feel so small. In seventh grade, it was the same look she gave me when her mother came out running at the sight of Kathleen's left foot bleeding from broken glass. Kathleen's eyes pierced into mine as she blamed it on Thomas Ruckford from down the street when she knew it was my dad's whiskey glass I stole to impress Kathleen. The price, you ask? Kathleen's silent treatment as she nearly dodged stitches that day.