On an Edge of Glass

This Taylor guy seems too self-involved to notice that I’m experiencing an internal meltdown, or that my stomach is burbling with so much anxiety that I’m about to throw-up on his shoes. 
    “ I—I don’t know about that, but I do think I got some good shots.  I’ll make sure to get them to you once I’m through editing.”
    “Cool,” he says as he turns to the others and suggests a drink before the next set begins. 
    Payton’s so absorbed in whatever Nick is telling her that she barely looks at me as she follows the guys in the direction of the bar.  I hang back and so does Ben.   
    “You were great up there.”  My voice comes out all high and squeaky. 
    Like he can sense tha t my heart is wilting, he sets his mouth in a grim line and stares down at his feet.  “Thanks.  It’s been a good show.  The crowd’s been really receptive to all of our new stuff.”
    “Because you’re g-goo d,” I stutter stupidly.  It’s like there are a hundred toothpicks sticking into the roof of my mouth. “I’m so glad that I finally made it to a show.”
    Ben’s eyes swing up to mine and I flush.  His eyebrows are drawn in and the air around us is full of unasked questions.  I’m sure that, like me, Ben is remembering the show at The Hill—the one that I never made it to. 
    His eyes are sliding over the lines of my face.  It’s like he’s reading all the words and sentences that are crammed inside my brain, stuffed under my crazy, aching skull.  All the yeses and nos and shoulda-woulda-couldas.
    My bottom jaw hangs loose.  I snap it shut and brush my bangs away from my eyes.  I blink.  Why can’t I remember what I’m supposed to be saying to him?
    Finally, when the awkwardness has reached a crescendo, Ben asks me why I decided to come tonight.  “Not to be rude,” he says flatly.  “I’m just wondering why.”
    My heart is thumping wildly in my chest.  I know that this is when I’ m supposed to come clean.  This is that sparkling moment—that second chance—when I should apologize and tell him that I want to have the conversation that we should have had two months ago. 
    But, all the bravery that I felt earlier seems to have washed away with the crowd and the music and the searching look in Ben’s eyes.  He’s biting his bottom lip.  He’s waiting.
    I force myself to shrug.  “You asked me to take the pictures before… before winter break.  I never did, and I guess that I wanted to prove to you that all that stuff is behind us now.  That we’re good.”
    “Right.”  B en nods and shifts his weight to his other foot.  He lets out a breath, hushed and fast.  “We’re good and I’m glad.”
    But, he doesn’t look glad.  In fact, he looks the opposite of glad.
    “Did you put that flyer under my door?” I ask because I have to know or I’ll break apart right here.  “The one for the photography exhibit at the Pratt Gallery?”
    Ben winces and looks away.  “Yeah…” he says slowly.  “I thought you might be interested in submitting some of your photos.”
    “Oh.”  I nod and try not to look too closely at his mouth.  At his lips.  “I wouldn’t even know what to take pictures of.”
    “Something you care about.  Something you love.” 
    I try not to pay attention to how his voice cracks on the last word.  Love. 
    “You’re talented, Ellie .  And last week, I al—” He stops mid-word and presses the heels of his palms to his forehead. 
    My brain is scrambling.  “Last week?”
    “Umm.”  His eyes drop.  He tucks his hair back behind his ears. 
    I get it now.  He means the almost-kiss.  The kiss-that-wasn’t.  My lips tingle from the memory. 
    He continues, “That was just—”
    I cut him off.  “Yeah.  That was nothing to worry about.”  I wave my hand.  “We don’t have to talk about it.”  That’s code for: I don’t want to hear you say that you’re not interested in me anymore and that you’ve moved on to Mia, the fairy guitarist.
    “Right.”  Ben’s smile is weak.  “Right,” he says again, but nothing about this exchange is going right .
    We stand there for a bit longer, each of us uncomfortable and awkward in our own bodies.  I imagine that Ben is anxious to get b ack to his friends, maybe Mia.  He clears his throat, but he doesn’t say anything else.
    I’m feeling more and more like an idiot for showing up here.  But, the truth is that I can’t be sorry that I got to see Ben