She falls asleep on top of me, her head cradled on my chest, our bodies slick and sticky and messy, and I don’t even care. Eventually, I roll with her, and she twists so I can spoon her and we sleep.
* * *
It’s past one in the morning, and I’ve been sleeping with one eye open. So when I hear the garage door, I slip quickly out of bed, tug on some shorts and a tank top. Before I can get downstairs to meet her, I hear her voice, and Ben’s.
“Dammit, Ben, I’m tired. I want to go inside. I’m probably in major trouble, and I don’t have the energy for this conversation right now.” She’s on the other side of the door leading from the house to the garage.
My hand is on the knob, just like hers probably is. I debate giving her privacy for about six seconds, but then I remember that my job as her father is to be there for her, no matter what, and do the best for her. I have a feeling she’ll need me on this side of the door in just a few minutes. So I lean against the doorjamb and listen.
“Just answer me, Kylie,” Ben demands.
“What, Ben? What do you want to know?” She sounds tired, and wary.
“Were you with him?”
“Yes, Ben. I was. I was with Oz.” The doorknob twists. “Is that it?”
“No. That’s not it.” He’s angry, and I know from experience that’s the quickest way to get Kylie to clam up. “What were you doing with him?”
“That’s none of your business, Ben.”
“The f**k it isn’t!” He sounds a little closer. “You’re—you’re my best friend, and he’s—who is he? Some f**k-up new guy. I know for a fact he does drugs. He smokes cigarettes. I smell smoke on you, Ky. What were you doing?”
“I don’t owe you any f**king explanations, Ben!” She lets go of the knob and her voice sounds farther away, as if she’s moving toward him.
“YES! YOU DO!” Ben is loud, and so, so angry. This wasn’t what I had in mind, Ben, I want to say to him.
“Why?” She asks this quietly, far too calmly. She’s got that deadly quiet kind of anger, just like me. “Why do I owe you explanations of what I do, and with whom? Tell me, Ben. You’re my friend. Not my father. Not my mother. Not my boyfriend.”
“You should be. It should be me.” He sounds deflated, defeated.
“I—what?” She’s confused now.
“It should have been me. With you. It was always supposed to be me. But it’s him, and I don’t f**king get it.”
“Where is this coming from, Ben? We’ve never been anything but friends. You’ve…you’ve never given me the slightest hint that you were interested in me as more than a friend. If it was always supposed to be you, then why didn’t you ever say anything?” Her voice is small, wounded, and fraught with tragic despair.
“I—because I thought—you—fuck. Because I thought I had time. I wanted to wait until you graduated, till you were eighteen. You’ve never been even remotely interested in anyone else. Not in our whole lives. And we’re…we’ve always been together. Sure, we didn’t kiss or whatever, but you’re—you’ve always been mine. I thought when you graduated we’d spend the summer together. Go on a road trip. I had—I had it all planned out. We’d head west, and see where the road took us. We’d be friends, at first, like always, and I’d—and in time you’d see how perfect we are for each other.” Ben lets out a long, groaning sigh. “And then he came along and…fucked it all up.”
“Oh…hell. Benji—why didn’t you ever say anything? Why? A year ago? Even six months ago? I’m not saying I would’ve—that anything would’ve happened for sure, but if you’d said something then…there may have been a chance.” She groans, and then her voice raises to a shout. “And why is everyone so f**king concerned about me being eighteen? Is there some magic in being eighteen versus seventeen? I’m not going to suddenly change in the next two weeks. FUCK!”
“Don’t call me Benji. I’m not your Benji.” His voice hardens. “Have you had sex with him?”
“That—” she hisses the word, venomous, “is none of your business.”
“You have.” It’s not a question. It’s an accusation.
“I’m done talking about this.” I hear her footsteps nearing the door, and the knob twists.
“I’ve been in love with you since I was fourteen, Ky. I’ve been waiting for the right time for six years.”
The knob snaps back into place. “Goddammit, Ben.” She sighs. “You waited too long.”
“He’ll wreck your life. You’re choosing him over me, and I promise you, a loser pothead like him will only break your heart.”
“That’s my choice, Ben.” She sniffs, and I hear the hurt in her voice.
“Yeah, well, excuse me for thinking it’s the wrong one.”
“Is there anything else you’d like to say? If you’re gonna call me a whore, now’s the time.”
“You’re not. You’re just…misguided. And you know what? I’ll always love you.” I can almost hear him gearing up for one last attempt. “I’ll wait. You’ll get tired of his bullshit, and you’ll come back to me. And I’ll be there.”
“I’m not sure if that’s sweet or crazy. I’m not coming back to you. I was never yours. You had your chance and you waited too long. You were—my best and oldest and truest friend, Ben. And I—I probably shouldn’t say this, but I’m going to. There were times when I wished you would just stop being my friend and kiss me. I thought you were going to, a couple times, but you never did, so I figured I’d been imagining it. I didn’t want to ruin what we had. I thought there was no way you’d ever be in love with me. You never showed it. And you’ve dated all those girls…Lindsay, Alissa, Grace. What was her name, the redhead? Breanna. Oh, yeah, and Hattie. Who has that name, anyway? Hattie? I don’t know what you saw in her. She’s a lunatic. If you were so in love with me, what was all that about?”
“I thought…if you saw me with other girls, you’d get jealous. And I was…I felt like I’d been waiting for so long, and maybe I was just holding on to how I used to feel. So I thought if I dated other girls it’d clarify things. And it did. It showed me I only wanted you. Those girls, they were fun, and cool. But they weren’t you. And yeah, Hattie was a bit…weird. That’s why it only lasted two weeks.”