While Charlie had been gone to gather Calvin, Ben had cleaned off the top bunk – Charlie had been right, there were a couple of sports bras in there, which he’d immediately deposited in the hamper – and piled everything neatly in the corner. He straightened out the blankets, which smelled a little musty for having been buried under piles and piles of stuff for as long as they had, and took a seat on the top bunk.
His mind, of course, took to wandering. About the question Fiona had urged him to ask. About how, over the years, his feelings for Charlie had tilted the scale from awkward childhood torment to friendship to best friendship to…something else entirely. Ben was not only a boy, but he was a boy who just so happened to be more inept at feelings than any other boy he knew. To him, this ‘thing’ for Charlie was just odd, and it would be just his luck, of course, if she wasn’t interested; not only because of who he was, but because of what his DNA was.
When Charlie and Calvin both entered the room, he smiled a little bit. “Happy New Year to you, too. And don’t you remember? We promoted you cootie police like ten years ago, Cal.”