On an Edge of Glass
dimpled smile so wide and beautiful that it hurts.  I look at the floor.  I’m confused and a tad off-balance by the huge feeling unraveling inside of me. 
    Like some kind of cosmic joke, Payton’s phone buzzes.  She gets up and walks into her bedroom to answer it, leaving Ben and me alone on the dining room floor.
    There are a thousand things that I want to say right now , but I can’t even breathe properly, let alone get real words out.  Ben is fiddling with his cards.  His dark eyebrows cut a straight line across his forehead. 
    My left foot is hooked under my right knee, and my palms are flat on the floor.  I untangle myself so that my legs stick out straight.  Looking sideways, Ben follows my movements with hooded eyes.  He sucks in a visible breath and curls the hand not holding his cards into a tightly balled fist.
    Imprisoned inside of my ribcage, my heart starts beating faster.  My face is on fire.  Chills are breaking out on my skin, and I wonder if Ben can see the effect that he’s having on me.
    I start to imagine him touching me on purpose.  Not just an accidental brush as he reaches across me for another Oreo.  A deliberate touch.  One that is intended to make a point. 
    I ponder how Ben’s long, slender fingers would feel grazing the bumps of my ribcage.  I picture his thumbs running along the waistband of my jeans, tickling the sensitive skin there.  I think about his warm lips, sweeping over mine and moving down my neck. 
    Payton is still talking in the other room.  I can hear the muffled sounds of her mellow laughter over the music and the erratic pattern of my heartbeats. 
    Ben ’s mouth is parted and he’s placed his cards facedown beside him.  His expression is on the brink of something that I don’t quite understand.  I screw my eyes closed.  I suspect that the wine and the vodka swimming through my system are partly to blame for the churning in my gut.  I silently remind myself the multitude of reasons why pursuing anything with Ben is a bad idea. 
    1)       He’s not my type.  He’s scruffy, whereas I’m put-together.  I wear cardigans for God’s sake.  I think that effectively blocks me from being allowed to date musicians.
    2)      Ben is my roommate.   
    3)       I made a pact with Payton and Ainsley.  I made the two of them promise that they wouldn’t go after Ben, regardless of how tempting he turned out to be.  That has to stand for something.
    I halfway convince myself.
    I stand, my knees wobbling slightly under my weight. 
    Ben looks up at me from the floor.  His eyes are dark in the diffused light.  He frowns and a single line appears between his eyebrows. 
    “I think I need to call it a night,” I say quietly, rocking forward onto my toes.  My breathing is shallow.
    With his eyes still on me, h e shakes his head softly like he’s chasing away a thought.  He says only, “Okay.”
    I feel inexplicably stupid.  I let my feelings get away from me, and now I need them back. 
    I turn and start walking toward my room.  At the corner I have to brace my arm against the wall because my head feels light and dizzy.  I know that I’ve had a lot to drink, but I guess I didn’t realize how much.  Now, it’s hitting me hard.  I close my eyes and start to sway.
    “Whoa , Ellie!”  Ben comes up behind me, slipping his right arm around the indentation of my waist.  He shifts my weight against his side, and draws my head against his chest.  With sure hands, he smoothes my hair back so that it’s off my face. 
      When I open my eyes, he’s watching me.  He’s so close—just a few inches away.  I can feel his warm breath running over my lips. 
    Ben leads me down the hall to my room.  He sets me down awkwardly on the bed so that I’m slouched over some throw pillows. 
    I push the pillows onto the floor and tip back so that I’m flat on my back on top of my green-patterned duvet.  I let my arms trail above me so that my

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