Let Me Be the One: Chapter 4

Lainey

Lainey

Ben Armstrong is an arsehole; I decide as I finish my fourth glass of white wine. He’s ignored me for the past hour. Like, seriously ignored me. I was hurt and disappointed he hadn’t replied to the texts I sent him, but that’s nothing compared to the hurt stinging me now. He’s actually sitting in the same pub as I am and it’s clear he can’t even be bothered walking over to say hello. He hasn’t even waved! I know I didn’t exactly jump out of my seat to greet him, but surely it’s not unreasonable to expect him to come to me since I was the last one to initiate contact between us.

And, if it’s not bad enough that he’s totally ignoring me, he’s making out with some girl at the bar. He was so in love with Amber. How can he be over her already? Clearly, he’s reverted back to the same old Ben Armstrong he was before Amber agreed to go out with him; the one who drank too much and made one-night stands his religion. To think I actually missed the guy!

“What’s wrong?” Cass asks when I put my now empty glass down on the table in front of me a little too loudly.

Instead of answering, ‘everything’, I just nod in Ben’s direction. “You remember Amber’s ex?”

The look on Cass’s face indicates she thinks I’m crazy for asking. And maybe I am. She did say she thought Ben was one of the hottest guys she’d ever laid eyes on when I introduced the two of them a while back. At the time, I disagreed with her vehemently, telling her Lucas was far more handsome than Ben. But according to Cass, Ben’s bad boy good looks are way more appealing than Lucas’s pretty boy good looks.

Studying Ben now, I must admit there are qualities about him that would appeal to a lot of women. He’s tall, at least six feet and two inches, and solid muscle from all the time he spends working out for his job in security. His face is definitely… appealing, with a strong jawline and symmetrical features. When he’s clean shaven with his hair styled—something I’ve only seen once—he looks like a Men’s Health model. But the current eyebrow piercing, messy hair, unshaved jaw, and neck tattoo peeking out from under the collar of his shirt give him a dangerous kind of vibe.

“I don’t understand,” Cass says. “You’re upset because he’s kissing someone?”

If I say yes, Cass will probably say something about how good it is that Ben is moving on with his life and how I should follow suit.

“I’m annoyed because he never replied to my texts.”

“What did they say?”

“I just asked him if he wanted to catch up some time.”

“And he didn’t reply?”

I shake my head. “Nothing but radio silence.”

“Maybe he didn’t get them,” Cass suggests.

“Or maybe he was too busy screwing everything that moves to pick up his phone and type back a one-word answer.”

Cass frowns. “You are annoyed he’s kissing someone.”

“No, I’m just annoyed he’s ignoring me. Though, I’d be lying if I said I’m not surprised to see him with his tongue stuck down some random girl’s throat.”

“She might be his girlfriend.”

“I watched him approach her and chat her up. Trust me, they weren’t together an hour ago, and I’m pretty sure they won’t be together after tonight, either. It’s probably just one more night of meaningless sex like he used to have all the time before he was with Amber.”

“Would you prefer him to be moping around, depressed, and unmotivated to leave his bed?” she asks incredulously.

I’m not going to answer her question because the answer makes me a horrible person. It’s not like I’ve imagined Ben holed up in his room with a tub of ice-cream while watching chick flicks or anything like that, but I have imagined him… I don’t know, still as upset as I am. Over the past few months, the belief that Ben was experiencing the same kind of grief as I was made me feel less lonely. The connection and alliance we shared while he dated Amber and I dated Lucas meant something to me. However, it clearly meant nothing to him, judging by his reaction to my presence here tonight. Even an acquaintance would say hello, and Ben and I were more than acquaintances. At least I thought we were. He should be able to take five minutes out from sticking his tongue down some girl’s throat to talk with me.

Something I intend to tell him right now. “Can you get up, please, Cass? I want to go talk to him.”

Cass points to my empty wineglass. “How many of those have you had?”

“Just the four.”

“Four! How are you not falling off the seat?”

“I’ve learned to hold my liquor better, thank you very much. Now please let me up.”

“I’m not sure confronting him right now is such a good idea, Lainey.”

“Why not?”

“Because generally, guys don’t like being cock-blocked.”

“I wasn’t planning on cock-blocking him,” I declare loudly enough to attract the attention of all of Cass’s friends.

Cass and I are seated at the end of the booth that curves around the semi-circular table. I’m sandwiched between Cass and one of her co-stars, Tristan, as Cass went to the ladies’ room and refused to reclaim her seat.

Despite her comment earlier today about not pushing me to date, I have the feeling she’d like nothing more than for me to hit it off with Tristan. For the first hour, his behaviour bordered on flirtatious, but I think he’s finally given up because of my obvious disinterest. Ever since I realised Ben was here, I’ve been too busy being angry and glaring to be charmed by Tristan’s smile and one-liners.

“What do you think is going to happen if you go over there all grouch-like and start telling him off?” Cass asks.

I haven’t thought much past walking over there and giving him a piece of my mind. Is there anything wrong with winging it?

“Let me get you another white wine,” Cass offers. “Forget about Ben and listen to Tristan tell you about the time he met Sir James McConack.”

As Tristan looks set to fill me in on the funniest moment of his career thus far, I hold up my hand, halting him before he can begin. “Hold that thought. I’ll be back in a minute.”

I’m already moving to get out of the booth. Cass doesn’t have any other choice but to let me out unless she wants to get trampled and squashed during my exit from the booth. With a sigh, Cass reluctantly gets up and I shuffle past her quickly.

Cass puts her hand on my arm before I walk away. “Go easy on him, Lainey. He’s not doing anything wrong.”

“I’m just going to ask him why he never replied to my texts.”

My confidence is at an all-time high as I march over. The white wine has gone to my head and filled me with courage and determination I don’t usually possess. I’m wrapped in a tingly, warm cocoon and I feel invincible. Well, I do until I’m standing right beside Ben and I realise I’m going to have to actually interrupt his tongue duelling session with Crazy Hair if I want to talk to him.

I wait for a short while to see if they’ll stop on their own, but it becomes clear pretty quickly that they’re lost in each other and not coming up for air anytime soon. Taking a deep breath and my life in my hands, I tap Ben on the arm with my index finger and wait for him to stop.

He doesn’t.

Fuelled once more by my anger over how easily he seems to be able to ignore my presence tonight, I tap on his arm much harder. The moment he stops kissing Crazy Hair, I open my mouth to give him an earful. However, every hot angry word and barb I’ve prepared for this moment dies on my tongue when he fixes me with a glare. There’s a flush slashed high across his cheekbones. His eyes are as black as onyx, framed by long eyelashes and the dark hair hanging over his forehead—hair he clearly hasn’t cut since well before the breakup. I don’t know why, but the sight of him like this hits me like a punch to the gut. I must have missed him more than I thought.

“Hi?”

My greeting comes out as a question, a testament to the fact I’m not nearly as comfortable or certain as I was a second ago.

Ben’s companion is the first to respond. “And you are?”

“Lainey,” I say, my gaze never leaving Ben’s.

He really doesn’t look pleased to see me. I wish I knew why. I wish I knew what I’d done to make him dismiss me as if we hardly know each other.

Maybe I’m just part of a bad memory he wants to forget, relegated to history along with Amber and Lucas, never to be dwelled upon again.

“Kind of busy here, Lainey,” Ben grunts.

I turn to Crazy Hair before looking back at Ben. “Um, yeah. I can see that.”

“So I’ll catch you later, yeah?”

Doubtful. I’m now certain he’s cut me out of his life the way he cut Amber and Lucas out. Maybe I shouldn’t really be surprised, but I am. Surprised and hurt. The right thing to do now, I suppose, is walk away and leave him to go back to doing what he was doing. But some masochistic part of me wants to force him to admit he doesn’t want to keep in touch.

“If you didn’t want to keep in touch, you could have just replied to my texts and told me. I would have dealt with it.”

“What?”

“You could have replied to my texts instead of—”

“What texts?”

“The texts I sent to you about catching up.”

His face is completely blank.

“I sent you a text asking if you wanted to catch up some time a couple of months back, but I never got a response. And then I sent you one again today. You ignored me. Again.”

“Listen, Lainey, honey, he’s not interested.” Crazy Hair’s tone implies she thinks I’m a little child who needs help understanding something incredibly simple. “He’s coming home with me tonight. So thanks for stopping by; it’s been fun, but you can go now.”

I think I just got dismissed. Great. I meet Ben’s eyes once more. “I guess this is goodbye, then?”

“I never got your texts.”

His statement is so unexpected that it takes me a moment to compute what he just said. “You didn’t?”

“My phone was smashed at work a couple of months back and I got a new phone and a new number.”

“So, you didn’t ignore me?”

My tone is hopeful, and Crazy Hair is now looking at me as if she’s ready to break her vodka bottle and stab me with the pieces. She has the wrong idea about why I’m here talking to Ben, but I’m too busy performing a mental happy dance over Ben’s reason for not messaging me back to care.

Of course, it doesn’t change the fact he ignored me this evening and never gave me his new number, but maybe there’s a reason for all of that, too.

Ben shakes his head, as if he’s trying to make sense of our exchange. “So, you wanted to catch up?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He looks at Crazy Hair and then back at me. “I’m fine, Lainey.”

His body language is defensive and he’s glaring at me again. I guess he’s concerned our conversation may raise unwanted questions from his companion. Asking him if he’s okay in front of the girl he’s trying to take to bed tonight probably isn’t cool of me, but I’m not convinced he’s telling the truth about being fine. He looks scruffy and tired, and maybe I’m just imagining it, but I swear he flinched and pain flashed across his face when I subtly brought up Amber.

What if he’s not okay? What if he hasn’t moved on? What if he’s trying to bury his pain under a giant pile of one-night stands?

How else do I communicate to him that it’s okay he might not have moved on other than by baring my soul to him and letting him know I haven’t moved on either?

“I’m glad you’re okay,” I tell him. “But I’m not. I haven’t been okay since that night. I haven’t really left the house in the past few months, other than to go to work. My editor hates the book I wrote. They might cancel my contract. I spend the majority of my days off in bed even though I barely sleep. I think I’m depressed. I need… someone to talk to.”

“You have your friends,” Ben reminds me, nodding in the direction of the cast.

I give him a weak smile. “There’s Cass, yes, but she’s telling me I should be over it. Maybe she’s right, but I’m not over it yet.”

Crazy Hair makes a noise of irritation. For a moment, I forgot she was listening to us. “I’m so ready to get out of here, Ben. Aren’t you?”

I’m guessing her question is supposed to sound sultry, but she sounds whiny. Ben’s gaze slides to his companion and I hold my breath as I wait to see what he says to her.

“Actually, I might stick around and have another drink.”

“With her?” she asks incredulously, nodding in my direction.

I might feel insulted if I didn’t feel kind of bad for her. Do women get blue balls? From the way she’s looking at me, I suspect that may be the case.

Ben turns his attention back to me. “Do you want to stay and have a drink with me, Lainey?”

As bad as I feel, I’m not willing to pass up this opportunity to talk to Ben. “Yes, please.”

“With Lainey, yeah,” he says to Crazy Hair.

She huffs and pushes back from the bar. “Your loss,” she spits out, giving me a terrifying scowl as she walks away.

It isn’t terrifying enough to stop me from taking her place next to Ben, though.

Ben just looks at me, eyebrows raised.

“What?” I ask.

“You do realise you just cock-blocked me?”

I shake my head, but a sheepish smile sneaks across my face before I can stop it. “I’m sorry.”

“Not sure I believe you, Lainey.”

“I am. I know I probably shouldn’t have come over and interrupted things, but it’s been a few months since we’ve spoken and…”

“And what?”

I don’t want to tell him I’ve missed him. It seems like too much.

“And we used to hang out every week,” I say instead. “I always liked talking to you, and sitting over there with Cass’s friends just made me appreciate how effortless conversation can be with you.”

He signals for the bartender to come over to us. “You need to talk, and I need to drink now that sex is off the table.”

When the bartender comes over, Ben asks for a Scotch Lager and I ask for another white wine.

As soon as our drinks are served, Ben raises his bottle and I touch it with my glass.

“You want to talk, Lainey, so talk.”

It’s all the invitation I need.