On an Edge of Glass by Autumn Doughton Read Free Book Online

it?  Be honest, Mark.”
                  Mark clicks his tongue.  “I don’t know sweetie.  But you’ve already told me that you were toasted on wine and vodka.  He might have been hammered as well.  I can assure you that a kiss under the influence does not equal long-lasting romance.”
    “I know that,” I respond cautiously.   “But—” 
    “ Do you remember the time that I made out with a girl after three mojitos?  That was a totally insane night.”  Mark sighs aggressively.  “And didn’t Ben just get out of a long relationship?”
    The qu estion turns me inside out.  I feel the same way that I did that time Payton and Hannah talked me onto the freefall ride at Six Flags.  I was so excited to go on it.  Then, five minutes after we got off the ride, my stomach clenched and I threw up all over my shoes.
    Leave it to Mark to point out the much needed obvious. 
    I’m stalling and Mark knows it.  He changes direction.  “Let’s go back to the fact that two days ago you were insisting that getting involved with Ben Hamilton in any way shape or form was a terrible idea.  Not only is he your roommate, which makes things complicated… but he’s also a musician.  Do I need to remind you what musicians are like?  Don’t forget that Melanie girl who was in our French class freshman year.”
    I rem ember.  She got Chlamydia from the facially-pierced drummer of an alt-band and was never the same.
                  I’m tempted to argue with Mark and defend what happened between Ben and me.  But even though I can only get my head around one thing at a time, I know that Mark’s the one being rational.  His logic rings true.  Plus, I’m all spin and racing heart and blushing cheeks.  My judgment certainly can’t be trusted. 
    I thro w my hand across my forehead and frown into the phone.  “You’re right.”
                  Mark laughs miserably.  “Oh Ellie-bear, I’ve told you this a million times…  I’m always right.”
     
     
    Theoretically the next few days should be awkward.  I expect as much and steel myself for uncomfortable bump-ins in the hallway between our bedrooms and the bathroom, or a formal stare-down in the living room.  On that note, I’m surprised.  I barely see Ben and we’re hardly ever alone. 
    He goes back to being a ghost roommate—coming and going while I’m in bed or in the shower.  The few times when we’re in the same room at the same time, Ainsley and Payton unknowingly offer up distractions. 
    I start to think that the kiss we shared was something that I made up.  Or that I dreamt about the whole thing in a wine and vodka induced quasi-coma. 
    It would be plausible, except for one thing.
                  Ben has stopped making eye contact with me. 
                  And it’s like the less that he looks at me, the more I get the sense that he wants to look.  And, the thought that Ben wants to look at me sets my spine tingling. 
                  Thursday, just over a week after the “incident,” I walk in the front door and set my bag down against the wall.  I head toward the kitchen.  Keys dangle from my hand.  I drop them onto the hook that Ainsley put up two weeks ago up precisely for that purpose.
                  “The key hook is genius.”
                  I jump at the sound of Ben’s deep voice and turn. 
    When I walked in, I didn’t see him sitting in the stuffed chair in the corner of the living room.  Two open books are on his lap and a third is in his hands.
    Our eyes me et somewhere over the back of the beige couch and stay there.  It’s a kick to the gut because I realize how much I’ve missed looking at them.  And him. 
    Neither one of us blinks .  His brown eyes are earnest and they break inside of me, twisting my nerves into a million tiny knots.  The air around us changes.  I breathe it in.  My heartbeat