Juliet Immortal

one.
    “You’ve
never
ditched school? Not ever?” Ben nudges my tennis shoe, making me blush again. I’ve missed his question. Because I’m too busy thinking about things that are none of my business. They aren’t, really, not unless some flaw in Ben and Gemma’s sex life is responsible for keeping them from a full, auras-glowing-red commitment.
    “No, Ree is the perfect daughter,” Gemma says, a hint of meanness in her tone. “She never does anything Mommy doesn’t like, including majoring in what she wants to major in at college.”
    “Where are you going next year?” Ben asks.
    “Santa Barbara City College School of Nursing,” Gemma supplies in a falsely chipper voice. “Because her
mother
went there for
her
nursing degree.”
    “Where did you want to go?” Ben pulls his legs in to his chest, ignoring Gemma.
    “I don’t know. I wasn’t sure. I was thinking about art school,” I say. “But nursing is a good field to get into.”
    “If you like blood and germs and wiping other people’sbutts.” Gemma snorts. “And doing what Mommy tells you, of course.”
    “Leave her alone,” Ben says, heat in his tone. “Some of us have to think about how we’re going to earn a living. Not everyone has a trust fund.”
    Silence falls over our corner of the barn. Gemma’s expression hardens before a forced smile works its way across her face. “Totally right. I am
so
spoiled and out of touch. Forgive me.” She tosses back the rest of her wine in one gulp.
    Ben sighs. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. I just—”
    “No, it’s cool.” Gemma jumps to her feet. “I’m going to go grab some chips from my trunk. Anybody want pretzels or sour gummy bears? I hear they pair well with stolen chard.”
    “Gemma, I—”
    “Last chance for snacks,” Gemma says, cutting Ben off again. “Any takers? Going one, twice …”
    “I’m good,” I say.
    “Me too.” But Ben doesn’t sound good. He sounds angry, frustrated.
    “Okay, but don’t try to steal my sour cream and onion chips when I get back because I won’t be sharing. Help yourself to another glass if you want.” She turns and disappears into the maze of barrels, leaving us alone.
    I study Ben’s tense profile, knowing this is my chance to urge him to forgive Gemma but unsure what to say. I feel so confused, my thoughts muddled by wine and concerns that go deeper than anything alcohol-related. Despite the brief moments of connection, Ben and Gemma just don’t seem
right
together.
    “Sorry,” Ben says. “I don’t like the way she talks to you.”
    “It’s okay.”
    “No, really. I’m sorry.”
    “You don’t have to be sorry.”
    “But I am.”
    “You’re starting to sound like me,” I say, getting to my feet and crossing to the tank, knowing I shouldn’t drink any more but filling my pink cup to the top anyway. When I turn, Ben is behind me, holding out his green monster. I take it, trying not to notice when our fingers brush together.
    “Okay. Then I’m
not
sorry. Somebody needs to remind Gemma that most of us are living in a different world.”
    I fill his cup, searching for the right words. “You always stand up for people?”
    “Not all people,” he says, taking his drink, but making no move to return to our spot on the floor. “Just the ones I don’t think can stand up for themselves.”
    “
I
can stand up for myself.” I look up into his eyes, willing him to believe me. He doesn’t have to pity me, or Ariel.
    “Yeah, I know.” He moves closer, until I can feel the warmth of him through the T-shirt and sweatpants I threw on for rehearsal. “But you don’t. Why?”
    I hold his gaze—and my breath—as he takes a drink of his wine, his throat working the chilled liquid down. He licks his lips, and I fight to swallow.
    “I’m not into conflict. And Gemma is my only friend.”
    “So you just let her walk all over you? I don’t think that’s really you.” He narrows his eyes, as if he can see through my borrowed skin to my deepest, darkest secret. “I think there’s a fighter in you, Mermaid. I was watching you from offstage today. I wouldn’t ever want you to look at me the way you look at Dylan.”
    “I never would,” I whisper. “Unless …”
    “Unless what?”
    “Unless you break my best friend’s heart.”
    Ben’s lips press together, but his gaze doesn’t waver from mine. “I don’t know what she’s told you, but there is nothing going on between me and Gemma. Not in that way.