Can't Turn Back Now, I'm Haunted (A Ben Willbond Rom Com)

Chapter Fifteen | Parade of Fragility

I felt the color drain from my face as Ben looked over at us, wearily. He acknowledged the joking pitch with a polite half-smile, then walked away to confer with the director.

"Grumpy git," joked Kiell under his breath. "This is all his fault."

"Hey," I laughed wanly. "If it weren't for him I wouldn't have been able to be here at all, and that's something I'd never trade away."

We spent the entire morning shooting the scene. Finally, the Coopers had had enough of Annalynne Font's reality show shenanigans and were throwing her out. It all went well, except for one unfortunate shot that involved Ben, as the Captain, shouting at me for being insolent and insubordinate. We were both professional, but it was fairly excruciating, standing so close next to each other in miserable silence every time they adjusted the camera between takes. We didn't make eye contact, but I could smell him — the familiar faint smell of his deodorant and aftershave and whatever natural, pheromone-laden scent of his skin that made me so addicted to him. It was torturous.

As we moved on from that setup, my eyes flicked over to Martha who had been watching us carefully. She had an expression of concerned questioning on her face. When our eyes locked, she began to walk over to me but I demurred, shaking my head as I silently begged her not to ask. She stopped, nodding in subtle understanding.

By the time we broke for lunch, I was more than ready to get out of there. I just needed a break, a half hour where I could be alone and fall apart. I strode over to my things, pulled on my sweatshirt, and walked out into the cold. The gravel of the wide, sweeping driveway crunched beneath my feet as I began walking over to my trailer — a luxury I almost never used, preferring to be with everyone at all times. Just now, it looked like a port in a storm.

I was only a few strides across the drive when I heard a soft voice call my name behind me. My breath hitched as I froze in place before slowly turning around. It was Ben.

"Hi," I said cautiously.

"Hi," he answered, walking over slowly to meet me. "Sorry, I know it's cold, I'll let you, um— I just wanted to, erm..."

He came to a stop in front of me. Finally, he met my eye, and for a moment we were still and quiet. Finally, he reached into the pocket of his costume.

"Here," he murmured, handing me a crisp white business card. "Cassandra Folger's contact information. I didn't cancel the meeting."

"Ben—" I began, not even knowing what to say.

"I know," he said, holding up a hand. His voice was weary and low, but I was relieved that through the hurt, there was a noble thread of wryness. "I know I'm bossing you a bit, but... she's a good contact to have, and... if I were you I'd take the meeting. It's nothing to do with us, really." He made a wan effort at humor. "We're done, but your UK television career doesn't have to be."

I looked up from the card, an ache rattling my chest. The attempt at mirth fell quickly from his face as we locked eyes, sharing a moment of grief.

"Ben, thank you," I murmured, overwhelmed. I took a step toward him, unable to stop myself. "Seriously, this is so—"

He took a step back from me and I felt a painful stab of rejection.

"It's fine," he said with a tight, closed-lipped smile. "Your stuff is good. If you want to cancel it, though, that's up to you."

He put his hands in the pockets of his uniform and strode back inside. I stared down at the card, biting my lip to keep from breaking down.

I found myself unable to eat, opting instead for sitting in my trailer and playing Tetris on my phone — the one thing that could genuinely turn my brain off to the point of numbness. I turned my text alerts off. Martha had shot me a worried text, and with Kamie's concerned check-ins — I had let her know what had happened in the middle of the night in a tearful, sleep-deprived voice memo that I instantly regretted — I was too overwhelmed to deal with reality.