Last night Caleb asked me over to his wing for horror movies and Mexican food, a true challenge I rarely pass up as Mexican food is loaded with tomatoes and spiciness and I cannot even look at a tomato during a horror movie. Salsa becomes something akin to some sort of immersive 4D experience and I end up losing my appetite. The game is we pick the goriest movie we can find and try and finish dinner before we get too grossed or weirded out to finish. Caleb finds it fun, as he said once 'down to earth'.
(I have no idea what he meant by that. He is thoroughly charmed by how bougie I am, I guess?)
But Ben said no, tucking his arm around me, pulling me backwards ever so slowly as he talked to Caleb in the hallway until I was all but tucked in against his shirt, cheek rubbing painfully against the button on his flannel shirt's front pocket and he put his right hand against my ear and I couldn't see Caleb's expression any more, not that I cared, frankly.
Ben's confidence has returned. His bravado came with it. His ego never came back after that really good stint in rehab, thankfully but he also stood up to Caleb with a fierceness that gave me goosebumps of yesteryear.
Long story, maybe. It's here somewhere.
In any case, we didn't come up for air until almost four this afternoon, thank you very much and in my rush past Caleb to the kitchen, as I hadn't eaten, expending way more energy than I had the stores for, I heard him swear under his breath.
I turned around, forgetting my hunger. What did you say?
He doesn't deserve you, Neamhchiontach.
You say that about everyone. I hold his gaze until he looks away first and then I leave him there, in the hall. My point is made. No hill to die on here, he doesn't have an argument to return.