“How can you be a bike courier?” asked Casey. “Doesn’t your visa—”
“I get paid cash,” Ben mumbled quickly behind his bottle. He swung the conversation in a different direction. “So, hey, did you lot see Maggie’s cake? It’s a triple-decker!”
“The icing’s sliding off.” Erika fanned her face.
“I hope she’s okay.” Ben’s forehead creased. “Riley said treatment left her exhausted this week.”
“How many more to go?” asked Cicely.
“One or two more, not sure.” Piper shuffled aside to allow Scott, arms full with a box of bottles, to access the counter.
“Ah, boozy reinforcements.” Riley rejoined her friends, the vapers banished to the fire escape.
Ben looped an arm around her bare shoulder, his damp dress shirt—the same one he’d worn to the Salute the month before—cooling her hot skin. His hand slipped forward and for a brief moment, his fingers caressed her arm. This is a first. A jolt of heat sizzled up her spine. “Come on, your cake’s turning into a chocolate puddle.” She grinned. “Want to blow out your candles?”
“Sure!” He squeezed her shoulder and let go.
They eased past their friends to the counter where Riley lit two candles and led the room in an exuberant “Happy Birthday” followed by hollers of “Speech, speech!”
Ben beamed. “I never thought I’d celebrate my first New York birthday with all you lot…” He raised his beer. “Cheers, guys. Thanks to Maggie for this awesome homemade cake”—he locked eyes with Riley and took a deep breath—“and Riles, the girl who took me under her wing when God knows she had every reason not to. To quote those magnificent old biddies from The Golden Girls, thank you for being a friend. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”
“Aw!” Cicely clapped.
“Make a wish!” Piper and Casey shouted.
“Or two!” said Erika. “Why stop at one?”
Riley bit her lip. Two wishes, that’s easy…wait, you idiot—you can’t wish on someone else’s birthday candles!
Ben closed his eyes and, with a quick puff, blew out the small flicker of flame. The partygoers cheered and fell back into conversation. Riley set a handful of forks and a knife on top of a stack of dollar-store paper plates.
“I meant what I said,” Ben whispered in her ear.
She smiled up at him like no one else was in the room. I don’t know what I’d do without you, either.
The crowd at the shabby eighties club was wasted and sweaty, and one by one, Ben’s birthday posse peeled away into the early hours of Sunday morning, spare the last holdouts: Riley, Piper, Cicely, and Casey. Taking a break, Casey went to the men’s room while Piper and Cicely finished their drinks.
“Aw, look at them.” Cicely clutched a weaving Piper, keeping her upright as they watched Ben and Riley twirling and laughing to “You Spin Me Round (Like a Record)”. “They can’t be drunk—all that spinning makes me barfy just watching them.”
“I wish she’d stick her tongue in his mouth or grab his ass or SOMETHING.” Feeling no pain, Piper gulped the rest of her cocktail. “This SONG, it’s—hic—Riley. She’s a freaking record, repeating on a—hic—loop: ‘We’re friends, we’re friends.’ FUCK FRIENDS. She should FUCK BEN!”
“Shh!” Cicely giggled. “They might hear you! But yeah, I agree. I think he’s into her big time. She’s all he talked about. Why haven’t they hooked up?”
“Pfffft!” Piper blew out her lips. “I’m tired of being a spectacle, a spect—hater…spectator.” She weaved forward. “You watch—I’m gonna make magic happen. It’s time to—”
Casey’s head leaned in. “To what?”
“FUCK!” Piper jumped. “You scared me!”
“To go home,” said Cicely.
“Er—hic—ya.” Piper’s sticky hand playfully smacked Casey’s face. “Bwit Twit! You look sssssoooo sleeeepy.”
He swatted her away. “I had a Red Bull when you lot downed shots.” He fist-pumped the air. “I’m buzzed. I could throw shapes for at least another hour—”
“Caseyyyyyyy.” Piper’s eyes widened like she was trying to force him into a mind meld. Her sparkly eyeshadow had migrated, creating silver splotches on her cheeks. “Cice and I need you. It’s…”
“Nearly 2:45,” Cicely filled in helpfully. “Pip’s staying at mine, so how ’bout riding the subway with us?”
“NOW!” Piper stomped her flats.
“What? To the Bronx?”
“Ten points to Gryffindor! Duh!” Piper stumbled out of Cicely’s grip, blocking Casey’s view of Riley and Ben. “You staying at your parents’, right? Makes sense to go togetha—pleeeeease?”
“Coffee’s on me next time at Peet’s.” Cicely batted her enviable eyelashes. Unlike Piper, the dance graduate looked as neat as she had when she arrived at Riley’s apartment.
“Fine! I’ll go, but…” Casey peered over Piper’s slouched shoulder. “Let’s walk Rye home first.”
“No!” Piper foisted her empty glass into the hands of a passing guy. He stared at it like she had handed him a dirty diaper. “She’s got Ben. She’s ffffine.”
“Is she?” He narrowed his eyes. “That bloke—I’m not sure about him.”
Piper smirked. “Yeah, he’s a shapeshifter, all right—aren’t ALL actors? The Tischie ones are…”
“If he wants to act so badly, why isn’t he doing anything about it?” Casey scrolled on his phone. “I was on Facebook. He has like, ten friends—including you, Riley, and Maggie—but no Mark Keegan.” Flipping the phone around, he shoved it in Piper’s sweaty face. “His Instagram is nothing but food.”
Piper chuckled, pulling the phone closer to her bloodshot eyes. “Ooh, noooo! Ben might suffocate Rye with a roti!”
“I’m being serious! I think he’s lying about Mark. We know more about Keegs than he does. Something’s off.”
“Oh, stop acting like an overprotective brother.” Piper shoved Casey’s phone into his chest. “He’s a nice guy, okay?”
Cicely nodded. “He’s lovely! We talked about my move to London to try the West End.”
“See?” Casey pursed his lips. “He never talks about himself.”
Piper’s eyes leapt to the ceiling and fell back to Casey, a jolt of clarity making her stand up straight. “Lay off, Mr. Conspiracy Theory! Cice and Ben just met, for fuck’s sake! He’s not going to download his life story, is he?”
Cicely nodded in agreement.
“So, say goodbye now—or not. Do what you want, but I’m not dragging Riley out of here if they’re having fun together. She needs that right now. Got it?”
“Fine,” he muttered.
Casey followed Cicely and Piper through the crush, not waiting for the song to end.
“Dancing queens! Hic. We’re goin’.” Piper threw daggers at the gyrating elbows jabbing her back. “Have fun, catcha laters.”
“Oh, okay.” Lightheaded from twirling around, Riley breathlessly giggled at Ben, wobbly-kneed and reeling. “We won’t stay much longer. He has to open his present.”
“A present?!” Unsteady, Ben bumped into Riley, his hand skidding down her back. “Hell yeah!” He flicked his hair from his eyes. “Goes without saying, I’ll walk Riles home.”
I’d like to do more than walk… Dizzy, Riley leaned into his chest as Ben’s fingers pressed into her lower back, his warmth setting off goose bumps all over her skin. Does Ben…? Or is he holding on for balance? Looking up, she caught Ben smiling at her.
Casey squinted, his eyes darting between the pair. “Rye, can I talk to you a sec?”
“Sure.” She left Ben saying goodbye to Piper and Cicely.
“I can stay.”
“Case, you can go, really.”
He frowned. “Look, you don’t need any more guy drama, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Overprotective, much? “I appreciate your concern, Case, but I’m a big girl, and Ben and me…it’s not like that. I’ll be fine, really…”
She looped her arm through Casey’s, pulling him back to their friends. “Thanks for coming, guys. Get home safe, okay?”
Piper teetered into Riley, planting a sloppy smooch on her cheek. “All yours, Ben!” Her hazy eyes tried a wink but failed. She resorted instead to her old standby, a high five, but her aim was off and she swatted Ben’s cheek mid-sway.
Cicely cringed and pulled her away. “Okay, night everyone!”
“Bye.” Casey followed behind, glancing over his shoulder.
Ben didn’t move until they were gone. “Casey doesn’t like me.”
“Don’t be silly! C’mon!” Riley grabbed Ben’s arms, encouraging him to jump back into the fast-paced song, but DJ Bob chopped it off mid-chorus with a new tune, slower in tempo with a steady drumbeat and sparse keyboards.
“Oh!” YES! A slower song. Riley giggled as people scattered and a brave few coupled up. This reminds me of junior high. Ew, boys! Run for it.
Ben leaned in, the music urgent and yearning. “You thirsty?”
Not for booze. Damn! Her shoulders slumped. Ben wants to run for it. He was holding on for balance—stupid girl. “Not…really.” Her eyes darted, following the mass exodus they were about to join.
“Um, do you…” Ben rubbed his jaw like it would help loosen the words from his tongue. “Wanna dance?”
Want? Yes! Yes! YES! Her eyes widened, but she gave a noncommittal nod. “If you do…” She suppressed her smile with a quick question. “What’s this song?” Slipping her arms around Ben’s neck, he reciprocated, embracing her lower back.
“Uh, it’s by The Cure.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he moved closer, his cheek resting softly against her temple.
Gentle and hesitant, they swayed together, each movement inviting Ben’s stubble to press and tickle. His fingers shifted, searching her lower back for a safe place to land.
Is he uncomfortable? Being this close? Riley pulled back, meeting his eyes with a smile. It’s okay, Ben. I won’t break. She leaned in again, tightening her grip behind his neck, her confident embrace working its magic, helping him relax.
While I’m here… She nuzzled his neck and inhaled deeply. It’s so subtle…citrusy aftershave mixed with…Ben! And sweat. Holy. Hell! A pang in her chest drew her closer, pressing against him as his words from the party teased. “I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”
She sniffed again and her eyes rolled closed, surrendering…to his scent, his words, and the music, its gentle beat competing with the pounding beneath Ben’s shirt. His pulse is racing. Lyrics about home and love—flying to the moon—joined Ben’s declaration swirling in her mind, hugging her heart and taking her somewhere she had never been.
Ben’s fingers tensed, digging into her lower back. She pressed a soft smile into his shoulder, the firmness lurking underneath his damp shirt making her catch her breath. He tilted his head into hers, his weight comforting and welcome as they disappeared into the music…and each other, as if the song had been written just for them…their breaths rapid, their hearts whirling, everyone else on the dance floor vanishing as the singer crooned, “I will always love—”
Mid-chorus, the room plunged into stunned silence.
“Hey!” “What the fuck, Bob?” Sharp voices erupted around them. “Not a-fucking-gain!”
Riley slowly pried her eyes opened. Fuck! Her pupils recoiled, assaulted by the brightness of the venue’s fluorescents flickering to full strength. Her flinch prompted Ben to lift his head and pull away, but his half-lidded gaze was soft and dreamy, not quite in the room despite the jeers from dissatisfied dancers infiltrating their ears.
“Party’s over, folks.” DJ Bob’s gravelly voice, a souvenir of his two-packs-a-day habit, snarled over the complaints. Dust particles mocked the crowd, dancing alone in the beams of the colored spotlights.
Riley squinted, finding Ben’s eyes waiting for her. “What was that song? It’s gorgeous.”
“Lovesong.” He sighed, and then his lips curved into a sweet smile. “Let’s get you home.”
Forty
Ben fidgeted on Riley’s loveseat, his eyes drifting up to the strings of fairy lights crisscrossing overhead. I feel like I’m taking advantage. “But you already gave me a card…” A second slice of birthday cake waited on the milk crate beside his knees.
“Don’t you know the nonnegotiable birthday rules?” Riley reached past his legs and pulled two gifts wrapped in racing Pac-Mans and ghosts from underneath the loveseat. “There must be cake, and there must be presents.”
Ben shifted back into the cushions, the bag of mini pretzels from the party crinkling between his hip and the armrest. “Two gifts? Riles…you can’t affor—”
“If I told you I used a gift card for one, would you shut up?”
“But—”
“Ben, please.”
She handed him the two presents and sat down, the old loveseat’s springs groaning under duress. “Open them!” A summery nighttime breeze blew a Funyuns bag off the windowsill, scattering yellow rings on the floor.
“Love the paper!” Ben picked up the smaller of the two gifts. This one’s soft and squishy. His thumb popped the sticky tape…pretzel-print socks! His smile did the impossible and grew wider. “My favorite New York snack captured in hosiery!”
“You do have a thing for funny socks…”
“You been copping a sly look at my ankles?” Ben looked down. Santa and Rudolph today. “I hate to disappoint, but the daft socks weren’t really a fashion choice. More like a beggars-can’t-be-choosers thing…”
Riley tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
My mouth—fuck. Can’t change course now. Just…say it quick! “The fucking hairless rat-cat my flatmate adopted got into my room, chewed all my socks. It was the middle of winter, my feet were freezing, and I was completely skint”—he winced, barely pausing for breath—“so I nicked some on Boxing Day from a pound shop.” His expression tightened the faster his words flew. “I mean, it’s not like the shop lost a huge profit because of me, and they’re ugly and Christmas was over, so they needed a loving home—”
“Ben, I get it.” Riley balled up the discarded paper and lobbed it into her bin.
Oh. She’s not…shocked…
“Being broke and desperate…” She grimaced. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of, too.”
“Like what?”
“You’re going to think I’m awful.” Riley stared at the unopened present in Ben’s lap.
I doubt that. “Try me.”
She swallowed. “I only said yes to Josh because…” Her eyes closed. “He said he’d help cover Mom’s medical costs. She still doesn’t know that’s why I said yes.”
Woah. So…you weren’t heartbroken about Josh but…what the split would mean for your mom. Ben swept his hair from his eyes. “Well, nothing to be ashamed of there. You were being selfless, not selfish, and I get it—I’d do anything to help my mum.” He glanced at the socks, a grin rising. “Thanks, Hope. I love ’em. Now I can bench Santa and the gang, mix it up for a while!”
The smile returned to Riley’s face. She pointed at his second gift, a large flat square. “I hope you…ah, I’ll just shut up.”
Ben chuckled and ripped away the paper with one tug. Oh…woah. He froze, his jaw falling open. She bought me a-ha. His finger traced over the album’s cover.
“Do you like it? The guy said it’s their first album.” She deflated slightly when Ben didn’t respond. “I-I checked. That ‘Take On Me’ song from your phone is there, see?”
Flipping it over, he swallowed with a heavy nod. He blinked quickly. Don’t be a wuss. “It’s…”
“Secondhand, I know. I wish I could’ve afforded a new one—if they exist—”
“No. It’s perfect.” Ben pulled out the inner sleeve. A dusty scent accompanied the vinyl. “It’s the real deal—from the eighties.”
“That’s good…right?”
“God, this brings back so many memories. When Mum got sick, I�
��” Shit. He tucked the sleeve back in the cover. Go on. Tell her. She trusted you, now it’s your turn. He inhaled heavily. “I was put in a group home for a while.”
“A group home? Why?”
“I had nowhere to go. Mum’s adoptive parents and brother died in a car accident when she was eighteen.”
Riley’s mouth fell open. “Oh God!”
“So she couldn’t look after me on her own. Doctors said her recovery would be long and painful after surgery. There’d be chemo appointments and homecare visits—too much to deal with. I was twelve and had never spent a night away from her. Mum packed up my bag, put a name tag on it. I kinda felt like Paddington Bear, being dropped off with instructions—Please look after this Ben—but with peanut butter sarnies instead of marmalade.” A hint of a smile graced his mouth. “This record, though…Mum and I danced around to it while she cooked our tea. She gave it to me the day before she went in for surgery. I guess she thought it would help me feel close to her even when I wasn’t.”
“Aww, I bet it did.”
“Yeah, for a while. There was an old record player in the home and I’d play it all the time, but one day after school, I heard yelling and banging upstairs. I shared a room with two other boys and one of them—not sure who—had smashed it to pieces. I burst into tears and they laughed their arses off, called me a ‘sucky crybaby’, which made me cry even more…about the record, about missing Mum—everything.” He rubbed his nose. “The one thing she gave me to look after…”
“But it wasn’t your fault.”
A tear trickled down his cheek and his fist rose quickly, smothering it. “Sorry. This really took me back for a minute.” DAMMIT, get your shit together, mate.
Riley wrapped her arm around his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. I can’t imagine. Twelve years old, being taken away from my mom—sharing a bedroom with bullies…I would’ve been bawling. I probably would’ve thrown up.”
“Yeah. I did that, too.” He cleared his throat. “I hated disappointing Mum then—I still do! You know how it is.” Admiring the record, a soft grin rose on his face. “If we could talk to our younger selves now, eh? Dust yourself off, don’t let the bastards grind you down, and always make your mum proud.”
Until The Last Star Fades Page 24
