fall in love, and it would only be a matter of time before it was my turn to get my heart smashed.
I couldn't do it. I'd seen the pain on Brian's face, knew how much pain I'd caused him, and I couldn't face experiencing that myself.
As I came down from the climax, I kissed Ben one last time.
I had to end it.
I talked myself out of leaving right away. I spent the day with him—eating, touching, just being together. I was making memories. I guess I had a masochistic streak because every time I thought that I should just stop this and say something, I would talk myself out of it.
I wanted to remember these moments when I was alone in the future, to have something to keep me warm at night when I was cold.
But the day came to a close too quickly and Ben started talking about making dinner. I knew I had to leave then. If I didn't do it tonight, I wouldn't do it at all.
Which meant that it would hurt even more when it imploded in the future. And it would because I didn't know how to be in love. I didn't know how to make a relationship work.
So, while he was scoping out the fridge, I snuck into the bedroom to gather the few things I'd brought with me. A t-shirt, boxer shorts, my toothbrush. Not a lot, but each item felt heavy.
Ben came into the bedroom carrying two hard ciders and stopped right by the door. There went my hope for a quick exit.
"Hey, why are you packing up?" he asked. He sipped from his can and put the other one on the nightstand.
I caught a whiff of his scent and inhaled deeply, hoping to keep it imprinted on my memory.
What? Yes, as I said, I was a masochist, and I wanted to memorize every part of this man on the day I was planning to walk away from him.
"I need to get back to Cam's soon," I answered, shoving my dirty shirt from the night before into my tote. I should have known I was getting in too deep when Ben told me to bring some stuff over to leave at his place. I'd never done that before, except for maybe a toothbrush.
"Are you coming back later?" he asked. He leaned against the doorjamb and tucked his empty hand in his pocket.
I zipped up my tote and faced him.
"I'm going back to Dallas soon." It wasn't entirely true. I would leave, but I'd intended to come back. I said it because I needed something between us, something he would understand. And believe.
He watched me and took another sip of his cider. When I didn't say anything, he asked, "And?"
"I think it's best if we stop seeing each other now before we get in too deep."
"I thought you were talking about moving here," he said as he set the hard cider on top of the dresser next to the door and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't wait for me to respond, only kept talking, "But that's not why you're leaving, is it? This morning really freaked you out, didn't it?"
"I'm not freaked out," I lied. I totally was. I was falling in love after I'd made it clear to him that I wouldn't. Fuck me, I never thought I could.
Ben straightened from the doorjamb and prowled toward me. "Did you know that you blink three times when you lie?"
"I do not."
And, dammit, I blinked three times.
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth but disappeared as if it had never been.
"You feel something for me. Something more than friendship. Something more than lust. And you're scared shitless," he stated, coming to a stop a foot away.
He was too close. There was nowhere to hide. No way to evade.
"I told you that I didn't want to get involved," I said. "It's not a good idea. I live in the city and you live here."
"Dallas is less than two hours away, not thousands of miles," he scoffed. "And you said you only have to go into your office one week every month or so."
"Before I got my promotion, yes. Now, I'll need to be there more often."
"Every day?" he asked.
It was a pointed question, one he already knew the answer to. "No. At least two weeks a month though." That was a lie. The person in my position previously had come in maybe once a month, so it was likely I'd