The Protection

Six

Following the closing prayer, I quickly grabbed my backpack and hurried past Scott, who was unsuccessfully asking out Beth for a third time. She pretended to be disinterested, playing hard to get, but by the way he gently stroked her arm, I could tell they had been intimate. I tried to pretend like their lust meant nothing, but I missed that feeling - being so deep in one another, nothing else mattered. I pushed harder past all the other students, through the crowded hallway, and into the stunning green courtyard.

The DCU campus was small, cornered into an area of Dallas that was still untouched by skyscrapers and winding freeways. It was a beautiful hidden oasis with emerald hills and trees boasting historic beauty, yet I still paused to suppress a shiver as I took it in, ice suddenly filling my veins. Someone was watching me. I could feel a presence. I scanned the elm trees and all the other students, but no one even glanced in my direction. No one, but Ben from where he stood on the steps of the chapel. Students wove around his gorgeous unmoving body, like a large rock in a deep river, but he didn't seem to notice. He was frozen in time, his blue eyes staring at me as if nothing had ever happened. I paused momentarily, taken aback by his sudden interest, and in that moment he descended the steps and closed the gap between us. I wished I was wearing something other than the silky-soft black t-shirt given to me by the stranger and torn up skinny jeans. But to be fair, Ben was sporting his usual light gray athletic sweatpants and plain white T-shirt. The silver cross necklace his mom bought him for his 22nd birthday poked through the thin material of the shirt.

"Hey," he said as he rubbed his right arm, a nervous tick only I knew. It was strange all the things I really knew about him. Past the tough shell and devil-may-care attitude, I knew how Ben worked, how he operated. I knew every mannerism and tick. Deeper still, I knew his heart, that part of him that stayed locked away, buried beneath all the superficiality.

"Hi," I said, unsure of what else to say to the man who put my own heart through a shredder. The same man who made me bed bound for a week of my life because my depression got so devastatingly crippling. We stood for several moments staring at the copper statue of a deranged bird that was supposed to represent our mascot. I blinked a few times, begging to quiet the judgemental gaze from fellow students in the courtyard, all of whom now couldn't keep their eyes off of me.

"Look," Ben finally said, and I glanced back into his crystal blue eyes, the same eyes I had once trusted so wholeheartedly. His gaze shifted away uneasily. "I hate how we haven't been able to talk. How I hurt you. I wish everything could've been different," he mumbled as he looked down at the grass. He sounded rehearsed, like he had practiced this exact speech in his dingy bathroom mirror overtop of the cluttered formica countertop. I followed his gaze down toward the humidity soaked grass, trying to deny the fact that he had ever hurt me, that I had been too strong, but we both knew it wasn't true. "And I know you probably aren't ready to be my friend yet," he continued. I forced myself to swallow the enormous lump in my throat at the word friend. I had plenty of friends across campus, but in this context, with this boy, friend was a punch to my gut. I looked back at him, distracted by how sharp his jaw line was beneath that five o'clock shadow. A jaw that was chiseled and defined like the side of a mountain back home. "We're having a pool party later this month at The Reserve, and I was hoping you could make it." His eyes finally met mine. The Reserve. The notorious "party" apartment complex where the entire baseball team lived. A place with a never ending supply of booze and groupies. The place where, ironically, we had fallen in love.

That scorching summer evening in the pool after the baseball party was forever etched into my brain. I was a Sophomore and had officially given up on love for the first time. Sure, I had kissed my fair share of eligible boring men my Freshman year, but I had convinced myself that I was destined to be alone. Just like my mom had always been, and I was okay with that. She was strong, and I would learn how to be even stronger. I was convinced no man could crush my heart the way my father had crushed my mother's. However, all my resolve went straight out the window when Ben transferred to DCU after a year at a community college in Kansas. He had been so reserved at the party, and I found myself transfixed by his silence. After all the other boys climbed out of the pool, we sat alone, together, quiet for several minutes, the only sound coming from the hum of the pool jets and the only light from the glow of the stars above. He said nothing as he swam closer and kissed me for the first time. Slowly. Passionately. Claiming a piece of my soul in the process.