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"Ben!" I gasped, clamping a hand over my mouth. My eyes widened as an expression of astonishment contorted his face. How had this happened again, with Ben dressed in a nicely pressed white shirt, and in a public setting? Honestly, my life was constantly on repeat: one embarrassing situation after another. The only thing I was actually thankful for was the blaring music in the background to distract everyone from this horrific nightmare.
"You!" Ben's eyes widened, too, mimicking mine. His shocked face morphed into recognition, as if connecting the final piece to a perplexing puzzle. He stepped back, his eyes momentarily studying me.
"You were the one who dumped coffee over me before!" he exclaimed, his gaze locked with mine. "I knew you looked familiar." Ben shook his head in disbelief, snatching a towel draped over the oven handle and dabbing at the dark stain. His actions were obviously prompted by anger, shooting sporadic glares at me.
If looks could kill, I would've been brutally murdered.
For moments I was paralyzed, deciding whether or not this was actually happening or if I was trapped in the longest dream of my life. The one event I was petrified of for an entire year, the one I finally convinced myself would never happen, was playing out right in front of me. After Ginger's endless reassurance, I'd began to believe my identity would be disguised or forgotten. But apparently something like scorching hot coffee being dumped on you stays in your memory a lot longer than I expected.
"I knew you were familiar," he repeated.
"I..." I murmured, hoping my jumbled words would somehow collate an adequate apology. "I'm so sorry."
"Josh brought up the similarities between you," he continued, shaking his head, "but I didn't believe him."
His response surprised me—but at this point, surprises were becoming the new regular. Still, my racing heart seemed to slow for a second, before continuing to thunder against my ribcage.
I jumped a little when a hand squeezed my shoulder. I flinched and whipped my swimming head around, relaxing a little when I realized it was only Ginger. She nodded to the door behind her and raised her eyebrows. Her bitter expression had been replaced by a sympathetic one, apparently the shock of the situation switching gears back to that compassionate and quick-thinking friend I'd grown up with.
"Go," she mouthed.
My eyebrows furrowed with confusion as the gears in my head began to spin. As soon as they connected the dots, my eyes widened and I immediately shook my head. Thankfully Ben was too preoccupied with saving his shirt that he hadn't realized the worry staining my face. He was mumbling about this being his favorite shirt or something.
"Where?" I mouthed, my eyes frantically dancing between Ben and Ginger. My previously felt vexation towards her melted away, unfortunately exchanged with an overwhelming surge of anxiety. One minute I'm dumping my coffee all over Ben's shirt, and the next I'm apparently supposed to leave him the victim of a hit-and-run.
