On an Edge of Glass

The red-headed drummer is standing just inside the door with his arms crossed over his chest.  He looks uncomfortable.  He’s wearing a bright green shirt that says The Hulk, and a pair of clashing army green cargo pants.  He’s got a smear of face paint down one cheek like someone started to paint his face but got bored and stopped halfway through.
    “I have no idea, ” I say honestly, glancing down at my ridiculous high heels.
                  Payton is staring hard at Ben now.  I can almost see the wheels in her head turning, scraping against the inside of her skull. 
    “ Oh my God.  Are you two…” she points to me first, then to Ben.  Her eyebrows waggle.  “Are you, you know—”
                  Ben and I intercept her meaning at the same time.  Both of us put our hands up and nearly shout in unison, “No!”
                  “Okay, okay,” she says with a wan smile and takes a step back. 
    I’m not sure if she believes us.  She folds her hands on her hips and angles her chin so that her short dark hair fans around the collar of the sparkly red halter top that she’s wearing. 
    “Then please explain to me what happened out there.”  She points at Ben. “ You almost got into a brawl at our party and I want to know why.”  
                  Ben slumps into a chair by the desk.  He drags his hands over the back of his head. 
    I realize that I haven’ t been in this room since he moved in.  The walls are bare except for a single black and white charcoal drawing pinned above the headboard.  The comforter on the bed is still Hannah’s light blue one with a delicate pattern of white flowers.  I recognize the green pillows as the ones I helped her choose over the summer. 
    A few articles of clothing lay scattered on the floor near the closet, but mostly it’s clean by college guy standards.  In the corner of the desk there’s a stack of books and a plastic cup that holds about a half dozen Sharpies and a single yellow pencil.  A black guitar case is propped against one wall. 
                  To my surprise the drummer takes a step away from the door and is the one to speak.  His voice is gravelly like he doesn’t use it very often.  “Drew used to be our lead guitarist and Ben’s best friend.  He fucked it all up by sleeping with Lily awhile back.  Ben came home early from class one afternoon and walked in on ‘em.”  He motions to Ben, whose head has fallen into his hands so that I can’t make out his face.  “The shit hit the fan and we all decided to ask Drew to leave the band.  Then Ben moved out of the apartment he shared with Lily and in with you guys.  The rest…” he shrugs his shoulders. “Well, you pretty much know the rest.  I’m Nick, by the way.”
                  Even at a moment like this, Payton has the wherewithal to flash a charmingly flirtatious smile and wiggle her fingers in a sort of wave.  Maybe she spotted the wrist tattoo peeking from the sleeve of Nick’s shirt.  It’s a known fact that Payton Moorehead is a sucker for ink.
                  Payton clears her throat.  “So Drew…”
                  Ben looks up.  His eyes are watery and red.  He nods once.
                  My stomach swims.  My limbs are heavy like I’ve been running for too long.  If I could melt into the wooden floor right now, I would.  I can’t believe that Drew is the asshole that slept with Ben’s girlfriend.  And worse, I can’t believe that I was flirting with him.
                  Ben turns his head in my direction and his eyebrows go up.  He seems expectant, like he’s waiting for me to do or say something.  Like the explanation that Nick just gave was for my benefit.  Like he needs to know what I think.  Like he wants to turn over and examine all the words and secrets that are hidden inside of me. 
    I don’t understand it.  Payton’s the one asking questions and I’m the one standing here like a fool.
    I blink.
    Ben is still looking at me hard.  His brown eyes are boring holes into my skull. 
                  The room tilts and I get that weird queasy, nauseous sensation that comes right before you’re about to throw up.  Maybe I’m way past drunk, or maybe I’m just a mess and my insides want to purge all of me. 
    U nder the intensity of Ben’s gaze, I know that I’m about to vomit, or pass