Page 110 of Burn Bright

His brows hike. “I think he’d rather eat staples.” He takes a handful of popcorn when I hold out the bag. “But I mention it in case you want to say hi to him or whatever. I know you’re friends.”

Not like I’m friends with you. Those words sit on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t seem to release them through my swelling throat. He shoves the popcorn in his mouth, chewing slowly while swiping through movies.

Setting the popcorn bag aside, I sit up a little against the mound of fluffy pillows and hug my legs to my chest. My T-shirt rides up. I’m not full-on flashing Ben, but that’s not even worrying me right now.

I glance over at him. “Does sitting in class together count as friends?” I wonder. “It’s not like I have his number.”

“You’re definitely friends, Fisher.”

I don’t know why that makes my stomach roll worse. I should be happy that he thinks Xander and I are friends, but in a way, it feels a little like betrayal. No?

His eyes are on the laptop screen as he adds, “I would understand if you wanted to be more than friends with him. Most girls would kill for the chance.” His gaze flashes over to me. “He’s Xander Hale.”

This is not where I thought the night was going. Ben giving me permission to date his cousin. I’m so much farther in the friend zone with Ben than I even thought. Does he not feel even a smidge of attraction toward me? Has it been one-sided this whole time?

That…doesn’t make sense.

His muscles are flexed. He’s letting out tighter breaths through his nose.

My cheeks are hot. “I’m not really interested in Xander like that.” And there’s a good chance Xander wouldn’t like me if he really knew me. Not all people would be as cool as Ben hearing about my past blow job deals. Or even proposing to blow their brother.

His shoulders loosen as he leans back into the pillows beside me. “Then he’ll be a good friend to you.” He runs his fingers through his hair before holding on to the top of the laptop. Like he’s bracing for something. He checks behind his shoulder. Coast is clear. Then his voice becomes a whisper. “I’m leaving the city in November, so you’ll at least have him to hang with.”

A deep scowl seizes my face. “You’re leaving New York in November?” I roll those acidic words on my tongue.That’s two months away.“You just talked about taking a P.E. class with me next semester.”

He goes pale. “I shouldn’t have offered that. Sorry.” He places the popcorn bag over on the side table, so nothing is between us, then scrapes another hand through his hair. “When I’m around you or talking to you, I sometimes forget that I’m not planning on staying.” His voice is tight—like a knot is in his throat.

I feel it in mine.

My breath cages, and I try my best to stifle the sudden, swelling pain that permeates through me. “Where are you going?”

Ben’s voice stays hushed. “The wilderness. Somewhere remote.”

“Going to live off the grid, nature boy?”

“Something like that.”

My stomach twists. “I was joking.”

He tries to smile, but it looks pained. “I’m not though.” My future friendship with Ben takes a serious nosedive. I could never live off the grid, and how would I even visit him? I can’t imagine hiking through dense foliage. Mosquitoes alone terrify me. Would there even be cell reception? I hate the idea of losing our phone calls. Of never being able to talk to him again. I think that’s the worst part.

He glances warily at the hallways that lead to the bedrooms. “My brothers don’t know.”

“I won’t tell them.” Another secret to keep. Being quiet, I speak under my breath. “Does being broke have to do with this remote wilderness plan?”

“Yeah, in a way.” Before I ask, he says, “You won’t be able to call. You could write though.”

I swallow hard.“Will you write back?”

He nods.

“Why are you going?” I ask. But the question I really want answered is:Is there any way I can convince you to stay?I can’t manage it. It feels like too much of an ask from me.

“It’s something I just really need to do. I planned to go a while back, before moving to New York, but my brothers—they’re persistent.” Maybe he misses nature, and he has some sort of soul-deep calling to be in the woods.

I don’t know what else to say to him. Tension pulls all my muscles taut, and I’m glad he put the popcorn away because I’ve completely lost my appetite. But I can’t loosen my grip off my legs. Hugging them to my chest gives me protection from feeling utterly fucking exposed.

My eyes burn as I focus on the laptop screen, unable to even glance at Ben.