(You always pick up the ones with the S and yet you're getting the L prize. Every fucking time. How are you doing that, exactly?)
Oh, Internet, seriously. Just stop it. You're wrong on so many levels it isn't funny. It's a freaking song. It wasn't meant for you, as I said right before I left it here.
But here, since one of my resolutions is to stop starting. Stop telling you things and then leaving you hanging with no resolution. The secret buried in the corn field? It's not a body so knock it off. The buried part is FIGURATIVE. Sheesh. I'm not very smart and I can figure out how to write about it, surely you can manage the comprehension part.
To retain my crown of intellect today I'll tell you where I spent last evening. Cruising the harbour on the yacht with Caleb. Because really, one whose life is in danger should always get on a boat with those who want to see her dead, or some such golden rule like so. He met us at the marina and began the evening with a toast, with small glasses of Stoli, neat, to finally having the chance to spend a little time together.
We had our toast, Ben drank to nothing, not even opening his vitamin water that Caleb keeps stocked for him and then they walked up to the bridge and I went out on deck to watch the open ocean, taking the bottle of Stoli with me.
Two hours later I had finished it. Sadly it was only half full when I began. Just enough to give me a lick of courage and a terribly adorable case of the hiccups and when the boys came back down I was wrapped in a blanket staring at the lights of the harbor, almost-crying and hiccuping. I'm telling you, you can't take me anywhere.
Ben told me that he made it very clear to Caleb why we didn't attend the party (right in front of him! He is learning!) and then asked me what I wanted to do now. He always asks, in case you think otherwise. Not because he's a pushover (he isn't) but for reasons that really are none of your business. You think it's easy for him? Jesus CHRIST. You know nothing.
My head is still playing the stupid song and I ask to go home. Caleb's eyes go black because he was hoping we would stay. I don't want to stay. I don't want to be here at all. I want to know what they have to talk about that takes two hours when Ben appeared twenty fucking years after most of our secrets were fixed into place. Don't be friends. Don't get along. Jesus Christ, don't ever align yourself with this man because all he's ever wanted to do is ruin my fucking life, Ben.
Truth serum, after a fashion. Why Caleb prefers other means of bringing me down.
That's not what I want, princess.
I meet Caleb's eyes.
Oh, I know what you want. And you think you have it but what you have is a fucking FRACTION of what he gets. I am poking my finger into Ben's chest. I think I've actually broken my finger against Ben's chest. It isn't the same, you know. It's like two percent out of a thousand. And it will never be any more than that. I laugh and it's cut off by another fucking hiccup.
I think maybe you'd better take her home, Caleb says to Ben. He's going to pretend the poison barbs aren't hitting him and I'm going to keep throwing them until someone stops me or I run out.
You're such a monster.
Goodnight, Bridget.
I really wanted to spit in his direction but I don't believe I know how. I settled for gracefully ignoring him. Okay, ungracefully. Stilettos + boarding ramp + dock + hiccups + disappointed ex-brother-in-law times Stoli divided by my resolve to leave before he changes his mind and keeps us for the night. It happens, sometimes. Beginning under the guise of working through my feelings and ending with me pinned to the floor and then dropping right through it into a world where he couldn't touch me if he tried.
He can't stand for being ignored. He follows us down the ramp and asks Ben for just a moment of my time, alone. Ben makes that face at him, that beautiful, angry face that pretty much answers the question, and so Caleb settles for a public exchange.
We'll talk later in the week, princess. Translation: I didn't get my revenge for you not showing up to the party I threw for you. Also: WANT.
Maybe. I love how he pretends that I have all the power when it comes to this stuff. I have now slipped out of his hands precisely twice in less than forty-eight hours. It's not going to be pretty when he blocks the next escape. Sure I hold all the power. And the moment I let go of that, I will lose someone else that I love very, very dearly (besides Ben). Caleb knows I'm not going to do that and therefore he will exploit me until the day I die. The one you should feel sorry for here is Ben, since the rest of us made our beds and he did nothing wrong. How incredibly amazing he is to put up with this in the first place. To want in when in seems to be a slow train to hell and back and we can never ever disembark.
Glad he's strong enough. I still don't think I am.
