Camera Shy || Ben Barlow

Seventeen

           

"Can we please talk?" Was the first thing that Ben said to me and, to my own (and his, I think) surprise, I nodded, with a sad little smile on my face. He let out a breath I never knew he was holding, his shoulders slumping in a sigh of relief. "I thought you hated me, you know." I nodded. I knew.

"I couldn't hate you," I told him, truthfully. "I don't think I could hate any of you, really. Not even Zach."

"I could hate Zach," he joked (I hoped), the happy light returning to his eyes. "Can we go somewhere else?" He asked. "To talk, I mean. Can we go somewhere else to talk?" I nodded.

"Where?"

"Maccies?" He said, with a hopeful grin. I liked his smile more than I thought I was supposed to.

"You just want a burger, don't you?" He exaggeratedly rolled his eyes and made a 'psh' kind of noise before letting out an awkward little laugh. Ben wasn't very good at seriousness. None of the boys were. He quickly nodded with a shy little smile on his face and I felt my cheeks becoming red.

I was swiftly becoming more and more comfortable around Ben, and I wanted to kick myself for it. He was going to tell me how we couldn't ruin a perfectly good professional relationship over one silly drunken kiss. It hadn't even been a kiss, really. More of a brief brush of the lips, his over mine, over as quickly as it had begun. I wanted it to happen again. I wouldn't run this time. I wasn't sure I'd be capable.

We'd walked to the closest McDonald's mostly in silence, with Ben cracking an awkward joke here or there. He was uncomfortable in a comfortable kind of way, if you catch my drift. Awkward, but familiar.

I think we were equally as terrified of the conversation to come, as I grabbed a little booth near the door while he went and ordered himself some food. I'd already told him I didn't want anything, not at all confident that I'd be able to keep anything down. Not today.

Ben slid into the booth, too much food for one young man to possibly stomach, placing himself directly next to me and enclosing me. I felt trapped, but found myself not minding being wedged between Ben and a window; I needed to shake this crush, immediately.

"Essa," he said, seeming as though he didn't know what to say. I hadn't seen Ben speechless in a long time.

"Ben," I mocked, trying to be playful before I didn't feel comfortable messing with Ben anymore. This felt like a break up.

"I wanted-" An inconsiderate little shit cut him off, wailing about a popped balloon, with no second thought of Ben and me. I loved children, but I wanted to strangle this one. I needed to hear whatever heart crushing speech Ben had prepared. "I wanted to kiss you. On the Eiffel tower," He'd rushed the last sentence fragment, his eyes suddenly abnormally large, his mouth tilted and eyebrows scrunched together, "but that's not very Neck Deep."

"Not... not very Neck Deep?" I said, half baffled, half outraged. "And drunkenly kissing me in the middle of a club is Neck Deep, is it?" My face was growing hotter and hotter by the second, my ears scorching. He had to have noticed by now. I wasn't sure if I was annoyed or just extremely embarrassed. Probably the latter, knowing me.

"I wasn't drunk, Es," he said, softly, his features smoothing. "I didn't touch a drink all night." I frowned, shaking my head.

"But-"

"I kissed you on purpose. Sober." Why though?

"Are you trying to mess with me?" I asked, my voice small and broken. I hadn't expected anything like this, not from Ben. He looked appalled.