Time Between Us

  We start the day at Reckless Records, deemed by Justin the most amazing music store of all time. First, we all take off in separate directions. Then we reconnect as the couples we are. And even, once, as the couples we aren’t: Justin and me, looking through the ska titles, and Bennett and Emma chatting about the bands in the Classic Rock section.

  “Hey,” Justin says in a whisper. He looks around to be sure we are out of earshot of the others. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you”—he gestures across the room—“about Emma and me. I don’t like keeping secrets from you, but…it just seemed a little…weird. But I’ve known you my whole life, and…I should have told you.” I smile, remembering when he spoke almost the exact same words in the hospital cafeteria.

  “That’s okay, Justin. Emma told me. It’s good. I’m happy for you guys.”

  He bumps me with his shoulder. “Cool. Thanks. In that case, can you give us a little time alone at some point? Your boy Bennett’s making me nervous, and I’m forgetting all my best material. I have some good jokes lined up. Oh, and what do you think of this sweater?”

  I stand on my tiptoes and muss his hair. “It’s perfect.” Justin smiles, and I watch his freckles disappear as the flush takes over.

  We spend the rest of the afternoon browsing through shops. We eat lunch in a crowded restaurant. We make sure that by two p.m.—the time of the accident—we’re in the safest location Bennett can think of: the third floor of the Art Institute. The hour comes and goes. We take the El back to the Evanston station and pile into Bennett’s car again, and because no one’s ready to go home yet, we drive to the closest theater and decide to see whatever movie is playing next. It turns out to be While You Were Sleeping, which wouldn’t have been my first choice, given that it centers on the story of a man who falls onto the El tracks and spends weeks in a coma.

  It’s ten o’clock when Bennett pulls in to my driveway: Two hours later than it was the last time we returned from our date. For a moment, I hesitate, picturing Mom and Dad inside, sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for me so they can break the news about Justin.

  “Will you come in with me? Just to be sure—you know—it’s all different.”

  He nods, and we walk into the house. It’s quiet. I can tell right away that Mom and Dad aren’t at the table, and I let out a sigh of relief. Bennett follows me as I lead him through the dark kitchen and toward the sound coming from the living room. When we turn the corner, we find my parents, dressed in sweats and cuddled up on the couch, watching a movie. There’s a fire going in the fireplace.

  “Hi,” they say in unison. Mom shoots Dad a knowing smile that seems meant for my benefit.

  “I see you told her about the car,” I say to Dad. I smile and look over at Bennett. He hides his eyes behind his hand.

  “Are you sure you can make it here for dinner on Tuesday, Bennett?” Mom looks up at him wearing her huge smile—her nurse smile—and Bennett melts like everyone else does when she puts it on. “Because, you know, we’d be happy to drive over and get you if that’s easier.” She looks at Dad again. “We know how complicated it can all be with the keys, gearshifts, locks…” She laughs, and I can’t help joining in. Dad buries his face in her shoulder and cracks up.

  “Not one of my finer moments.” Bennett’s still hiding behind his hand. He slides it down to reveal his eyes and laughs along with the rest of us.

  “It’s okay. We like that around here, Bennett,” Dad says. “Now we have something we’ll never let you live down.”

  Bennett looks at the three of us and smiles. “Awesome.”

  And for the first time since we began the second version of our day date, Bennett looks like he’s starting to relax and accept what I knew was true at 8:08 this morning. Our do-over has been a success. Emma and Justin are safe. Nothing bad has happened. And Bennett can do a lot more than he thought he could.

  “I’ve had the most incredible week!” Señor Argotta announces after the bell rings and we’ve all taken our seats. Bennett and I look at each other and grin. I’m not sure what made Argotta’s week so “incredible,” but I’m pretty sure we can top it.

  “I’ve had the unique opportunity to travel through Mexico on twenty different routes. It was exhilarating! All of them were just fantastic!” He paces around the room, and we stare at him with rapt attention. “But three trips,” he continues, “three trips stood out. I’d like to share these with you and see if I can get your help deciding who should go home today with this.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a folded strip of paper. “A five-hundred-dollar travel voucher.” He snaps it taut a few times and sticks it on the whiteboard with a magnet.

  I turn around to steal another quick glance at Bennett. At first, I thought working with him on our travel plans would be cheating, but all it took was a smile and a latte to convince me otherwise. On Sunday afternoon, the day after we completed our successful do-over, Bennett showed up for my shift at the bookstore and we sat in our spot on the floor, pulling books from the shelves and reading descriptions aloud. And four hours later, we had mapped two circuitous routes, each different enough to keep Señor Argotta from thinking we’d collaborated, and overlapping only once, in the little beach town of La Paz.

  Now, Señor Argotta flips the light off and the projector on, and the screen lights up with a colorful map of Mexico. The route is highlighted in yellow marker, and each destination is marked with circled letters that correspond to points in the written itineraries. This isn’t my map. Or Bennett’s.

  “This first plan comes courtesy of Courtney Breslin.” The highlighted route circles the perimeter of the country, avoiding the interior entirely. “You can tell from this plan that this unusually long winter has caught up with Señorita Breslin. She’s after some serious beach time.”

  Everyone in the room laughs.

  “At first glance, this looks like she’s missing out on a lot of the country. But I chose this one because—even though she selects a few high-tourist destinations—she also found some wonderful secret beach gems.” He tapes her map to the whiteboard at the front of the room. “Let’s call this one Hora de Playa.”

  When he clicks the button on his remote again, my map appears. I feel my shoulders tense up. “Señorita Greene has a little of both—some beaches, some ruins—but it’s well-paced. Too often, people plan a trip and try to cover too much ground. They’re trying so hard to be sure they don’t miss anything that they overschedule themselves. In my opinion, that’s how you miss out on all the good parts of a country. I like all three of the trips I chose because they don’t try to get everything in. They all save time for surprises. Spontaneous decisions. Señorita Greene’s trip is aggressive, but she’s left room for mystery! For impulsiveness!” He walks to the front of the room. “I call this one La Aventura!”

  Atrevida. He left out the daring part, so I add under my breath: “La Aventura Atrevida.”

  “Our final travel plan is from Señor Camarian.” Alex and I steal a glance at each other at the same moment, and we both look surprised. “Señor Camarian is interested in archaeology and Mayan culture. He avoids the tourist spots altogether. He flies into Cancún, but gets out as quickly as possible. He is the only person who found one of my favorite spots, the Kohunlich ruins, which show more of the influence of Mexico’s neighbors in Belize.” He turns to Alex. “Go there at dusk, when the howler monkeys come out. It’s eerie. And fantastico.” He walks to the front of the room again and tapes Alex’s map to the whiteboard. “El Camino Menos Viajado.” The Road Less Traveled.

  He walks over and switches on the light. “I have to tell you, I enjoyed my side of this assignment. You found some places that I’ve always loved, and others that I’d never even heard of. I was extremely impressed, and now, my friends, I am terribly homesick.” He sighs, smiles again, and says, “So, do you want to know who won?”

  I already know. Alex has clearly won. I don’t have monkeys, howler or otherwise.

  Argotta paces back
and forth across the front of the room, letting the tension build. “These were all great trips, but there was one that was the best-paced, most well-rounded plan. If I were going to see the country for the first time, it would be the trip I would choose.” He walks to the whiteboard and gestures dramatically in front of the three maps. “And the winner is,” he says, pulling my map off the wall and holding it up high, “La Aventura.”

  The class claps as the bell rings.

  I walk to Argotta’s desk to collect my winnings. Bennett walks past me and tells me he’ll meet me in the hall.

  “Muchas gracias, Señor Argotta,” I say as he gives me the voucher. I can’t tell which of us looks prouder.

  “You deserve it.” He looks at me with an earnest expression. Then he holds his finger up and gestures with his head toward the room, as if he has more to say but can’t speak openly until the rest of the students are gone. I start to fidget as I picture Bennett standing outside the door, waiting for me.

  “Señorita, as you probably know, I run the summer exchange program,” he says when we’re finally alone. I nod. “Well, this year, we had more families participate than usual, but we didn’t get as many applications as we typically do. I know it’s rather late notice, but there’s still a spot.” When I don’t reply, he fills the silence: “If you’re interested.”

  I haven’t even considered my summer plans. Come to think of it, since Bennett arrived, I haven’t considered much beyond the current day.

  Argotta opens his desk drawer, pulls out a shiny yellow folder, and hands it to me. “It’s a really fantastic opportunity. You’d get to spend ten weeks in Mexico with a wonderful host family. Here, take this and talk it over with your parents.”

  I take the folder. A few months ago, I would have considered this the opportunity of a lifetime, but now, with the ability to see any location in the world, a single one doesn’t sound quite so appealing. “Thank you. I’m really honored that you’d consider me.” I unzip my overstuffed backpack and push the folder down into it. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Good. The family knows they might not be getting a student, but we need to give them some time to prepare either way, so just get the paperwork back to me as soon as you can—end of May at the very latest. I’m not expecting any more applications at this point, so if you think you’d like to take the spot, it’s yours.”

  “Okay. Thanks again.” I race toward the door, and when I round the corner, Bennett throws his arm over my shoulder.

  “You did it!” He smiles and pulls me to him as we start down the hall. I lose my balance in a good way. “So, where are you going with that ticket?”

  “Mexico, of course. It would be a shame to waste a perfect, well-paced trip that allows time for surprises.” I mimic Argotta’s accent and look up at him with a flirty smirk. “I happen to like surprises.”

  “Yeah,” Bennett says, “I’ve heard that about you.”

  I put my bookmark in between the pages of Rick Steves’ Best of Italy 1995 and turn off the light, thinking about museums and cobblestoned streets and gelato. It’s been almost a month since Bennett took me to Thailand, told me the first of his secrets, and handed me a postcard. He promised to take me to Italy next, but ever since the do-over with Emma, he’s been reluctant to use his little talent, even for tourism. I haven’t asked—I’ve been happy just having him here, and pretending that everything about him is normal—but I’m studying my phrase book just in case.

  I close my eyes and think about him, and just as I’m starting to drift off to sleep, I realize that something doesn’t feel right. Like a weight is pulling me toward the edge of the bed.

  “Hey,” a voice says into my ear. “It’s me.” My eyelids shoot open and the beginnings of a scream escape my mouth. “Shhhh,” the voice says, and a hand covers my mouth to muffle the sound. My heart is racing and my eyes are wide with terror, and I blink until I can finally make out his form in the dark.

  “It’s me. It’s okay.” He repeats the words while I try to talk my heart into slowing down. “It’s okay, Anna, it’s just me.”

  “Whan aer ew uing er?” I whisper-yell it into his palm, so it comes out garbled.

  “What?” He laughs under his breath and removes his hand from my mouth.

  “What are you doing here?” I repeat, clearly this time, as I sit up straight and punch him in the arm. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  He’s still trying not to laugh. “I’m sorry. I would have knocked, but—” he says as he taps his watch. “Your mom loves me, but I don’t think she’d appreciate a visit at eleven thirty on a school night.”

  I feel my heart slow down a little, and I pull the covers tighter around my waist. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, everything’s fine. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just lying in bed, and suddenly, I couldn’t wait until tomorrow to see you. So I got up, put on my sweats, pictured your room, and poof, here I am.”

  “Poof ?”

  “Poof. You weren’t asleep, were you?”

  “Nearly.” I rest my head on my pillows again and sigh. I’m not sure how I feel about him—poof—appearing in my bedroom uninvited.

  He lifts the covers up to my chin. My room is dark, barely lit by the full moon outside, but he must see the look on my face. “Hey…are you mad?”

  I shake my head. “No, not really.”

  “But a little?”

  I crinkle my nose. “Yeah, maybe.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to just show up. I’ll go.”

  Now I feel bad. He looks so sweet, flustered like this, and just as he’s about to stand up, I reach over and grab his arm. “Don’t go,” I say.

  “Really, it’s okay. I’ll just see you tomorrow,” he whispers as he plants a soft kiss on my forehead, and that’s all it takes for my heart to start racing again, but this time it has nothing to do with fear. Five minutes earlier, I was missing him, and now he’s here in my room, sitting on my bed and backlit by moonlight.

  “Really. I’m not mad.” Without even thinking about it, I grab his arm and pull him down on my bed, and he lands sprawled out next to me, looking a little surprised. I roll over onto his chest and smile down at him. He looks adorable on my pillow. “Don’t go.”

  He looks at me for a moment, and then his hand finds the back of my neck, and he kisses me, harder than usual. And even though there’s still a bit of the bulky comforter between us, I can feel the heat radiate from his body, feel the intensity of every one of his kisses, regardless of where it lands. On my lips. On my neck. On my chest. And for a good five minutes, I’m completely lost in him, kissing him, running my fingers under his shirt so I can feel how the muscles in his back tense up every time he pulls me tighter. But then I find myself again, realize where I am, and move away from him, so I can sneak a look at my bedroom door.

  “It’s okay.” He’s whispering in my ear, but I can feel his breath on my neck. “Don’t worry about it.”

  I pull away just a little. “My parents…”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he repeats. And for a few minutes, I follow Bennett’s lead and let myself get lost in his kisses. But I can’t seem to ignore the door for long. I steal another glance at it and he catches me.

  He stops, breathing hard, and smiles up at me. My hair is everywhere, and he sweeps it to the side so he can see my face. He rests his hand on my cheek. “It’s me, remember?” he says. “If they come in, I’ll just…disappear and come back five minutes earlier.” His smile grows more mischievous. “They’ll never know. You’ll never even know. Then you can pull me down on the bed like you just did, and we can do this,” he grins, “all over again.”

  I look away from the door and lean in close to kiss him again. But suddenly, I have this thought. I have no idea where it comes from, why it would be here right now, or why I’ve never thought to ask it before, but here it is, coming at me full force. I pull away and look down at him. “You’ve never actually done that to me, ha
ve you?” I’m smiling, but my face is all crinkled up. “Done something over. And I never even knew?”

  His smile disappears too quickly.

  “Bennett?”

  He doesn’t say anything. His head falls back and sinks deep into my pillow. “Once.” The word floats out with his heavy exhalation.

  I feel the lump forming, growing in my stomach as I glare at him and wait for more. He doesn’t say anything else. He just lies there, waiting for me to make the next move.

  “When?” I sit up, tighten the covers against my body, and wait.

  He faces me. “Remember that first night—the night you came to Maggie’s and I was so rude to you?”

  I nod.

  “I went to the bookstore to apologize, and we went for coffee.”

  I nod again.

  “And I walked you home.”

  I just keep nodding, because, yes, I remember all that. I want to know about the part I don’t remember.

  “I kissed you.”

  “You kissed me?” I would have remembered that.

  Now it’s his turn to nod. And I can only stare at him. Because that’s impossible. All I wanted that night was for him to kiss me, and instead he spoke some nonsense about whatever happened last time not happening again. I didn’t know what he meant at the time, but now I do. He’d kissed me. That’s what happened.

  “It was too much. I was afraid of what it meant for you and—” He grimaces. “I kissed you. And then I went home and realized what I’d done. So I went back and did it over again, the way I’d meant to do it. I walked you home. I said goodbye.” While I stood on the sidewalk, shivering and confused, watching him walk away and thinking I’d done something wrong. While I spent the twenty-four days that followed wondering why I felt something for this person who didn’t seem to care about me at all.

  I can’t look at him anymore, so I recline against the headboard, close my eyes, and rub my temples. When I open my eyes again, he’s looking at me, sincere and apologetic. I shut my eyes tighter this time.