Beautiful Things Never Last (27 page)

             
He grabs the duffel bag he dropped by the front door on his way in and walks out. Gone. And for the second time, I’ve told Ben to leave. I’ve pushed him out of my life.

Maybe for good.
Alone.

Again.
 

S
eventeen

QUINN

I wake up on the sofa, drool running onto my hand, and the sound of knocking on the front door pounding in my ear drums.

             
I open the door just wide enough to see who it is.
 
 
 
 
             
"What are you doing here?" I ask. I fidget with the end of my braid, weaving my fingers in and out of the hair.
 
 
 
 
             
Ben pushes past me without bothering to answer.
 
 
 
 
             
Come on in, please.
 
 
 
 
             
"I know you asked me to go last night, I know," he says. His eyes are heavy. Red. Wounded.
 

             
“I did. So, maybe you could like, respect that?” I clutch my hip, trying to look like I’m standing firm, when really I’m just trying to steady myself.

             
"You've just got to understand. You’ve been gone for
weeks
. I haven’t seen you. I haven’t
touched you….
” I’m pissed.
Beyond
pissed. But the mention of his touch forces a chill down the length of my body. “A
nd now you’re back and I’m supposed to stay away?”

             
His hand grazes over my shoulder lighter than a whisper. More like a memory.
 
 
 
 
 
"We've been over this," I say.
 
 
 
 
 
"W
e've been over a lot of things.
" he says. He rubs his scruffy, unshaved cheek.
“We made it through last year. We can figure this out, too.”
 
 
 
 
 
"
Maybe
. Or maybe
w
e
just
don't work.
I mean,
really. D
id we ever even really have a chance?
Did you ever feel the way that you said you did? Or is it that once you got me, you didn’t want me anymore?
" I start back toward the front door and open it for him.

             
Take the hint, Ben. I don't have the willpower I used to. Not after everything we've been through.

             
“Don’t say that. I c
an fix this. We fixed it before.W
e can do it again.”

             
“I’m not sure you can. I just
—
I just need to figure something’s out. I need some time.”

             
“I’ll give you all the time you need, baby, just please don’t end this. Please.”

             
“I don’t know what I’m doing right now, Ben. I need sleep. And to try to make sense of why in the world you would up and leave to go visit your ex. I need to—”
             
"Marry me."
 
 
 
 
 
He wraps his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me in.
 
 
 
 
 
I'm stunned to silence.
 
 
 
 
 
"What are you talking about?" Is all that I can choke out.
 
 
 
 
 
He presses his forehead to mine. It's the closest we've been since we said good-bye at the airport last month. So much has changed since then.

             
He's changed.

             
I pull away. In all the ways it’s possible to pull away from someone.
I back away until I’m across the room and
slouch into the windowsill, wishing it would swallow me up. That it led to some gateway to a magical place where hurt like this doesn’t exist.

             
“Don’t you understand that I trusted you? You of all people know how hard that was for me, Ben. And you killed that.”

 
 
 
 
 
"You told me a long time ago that beautiful things never last. But I think you're wrong. I think they can. If you fight for them. If you let them change, Quinn. They can morph into something even better. If you make it work."

             
I
do
remember saying that to him. On the deck at my parents’ house, the summer we first met. When I first fell in love with the boy who opened doors for me, refused to kiss me the first time without permission, and wouldn’t make love to me until he was certain I loved him back.
 
 
 
 
 
He closes the space between us.
 
 
 
 
 
"Marry me," he repeats.
 
 
 
 
 
I push him away. “I’m not marrying you, Ben.
I’m not.
And I really think you should go.”
 
 
 
 
 
“That was part of the reason that I was late coming home,” he says. He tosses an enve
lope onto the coffee table and runs his hand along the back of his neck.
 
 
 
 
 
“Don’t bullshit me, Ben. You already told me the reasons.
She
was the reason.”
             
“You’re right. I was a bastard. I know that. I know I never should have gone there in the first
place. And I never should have felt tempted, but I did.
And
when I was, I knew I needed to get out of there and back to you
.
I went back
to Atlanta
not knowing what the fuck I was looking for, and what I figured out was that there is this part of me that can’t ever be changed. And it’s because you own that part.”
             
“What does that have to do with this?” I ask, picking up the envelope and hitting my palm
on one of the corners
over
and over
again.
             
“Open it.”
             
I open the envelope and pull out a small piece of paper. I have to admit, I was expecting a photo. Something dramatic that would somehow articulate how Ben feels about
me
and everything would be good again. Instead, it’s a check. A big check.
More money than either one of us thought we’d see till we were long out of school and established, respectable, real-life grown-ups.

             
“What is this for?” I ask.
The check is
made out to Ben.

             
“I sold a photo. Well, a pile of photos, actually.”

             
I want to r
ush to him and congratulate him.I want to tell him how completely proud of him I am, and how I knew all along that this day was coming for him—sooner than later. I
t’s what he’s wanted for
for
so long. But I can’t. I just can’t.

             
“Before I left town,
I got a call from Ron that a friend of his owns a company that wanted to acquire some of my prints. They wanted to turn them into posters to hang in restaurants and offices and stuff.
I had already arranged to meet
the guy that day that I came home
. I had to stop by his office on my way home and
sign the paperwork and
pick up the check.”

             
“I’m happy for you,” I say. I mean it. Or I’m trying.

             
“Aren’t you going to ask which pictures I sold?”

             
“They’re all good, Ben. Which ones?”

             
“The
photos
of the sunsets that I took for you.
O
n
es that I had had all along, that I didn’t put enough value on.”
The same way you didn’t value us.

             
He’s slowly walking toward me.
I back up into the kitchen.
I’m running out of places to back away from him.

             
“I will earn your trust
back.
I just need you to give me some time
.
I can fix this,
I promise.
” he says.

             
“Really? You broke my heart, Ben. Can you fix that?”

             
He reaches out for me again, but
I put my hand up to stop him.