Pucked Over (Pucked 3)

I scan the shop, once I’m sure no one is paying attention to me, I slip my phone out. I sigh as Benji’s name comes up, along with three new messages. He wants to meet up, presumably to give me my stuff back, but he’s vague. I make the mistake of telling him I’m working, so I can’t.

Half an hour later he shows up. The counter is a great barrier, keeping him from hugging me. He looks the same as he did the last time I saw him, which was almost a month ago when he stopped by with some girl. I went to the back and made one of the other girls wait on them. He texted a thousand apologies later and said she was one of his coworkers. I know better. He did it to make me jealous.

He’s still growing that awful beard, which isn’t really a beard. It’s a bunch of patchy scruff. It’s not attractive. He’s wearing a shirt I gave him two years ago for his birthday. He doesn’t have a bag or a box or anything with him, but it could be in his car.

“Hey, Lily.”

“Hi, Benji.”

He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “You look great.”

“Thanks.” I roll back on my heels and wait.

The awkward silence drags on until his face starts to turn red. “Think you can take a break?”

“I’ve already taken it.”

He sighs, and my toes curl in my shoes, like they want to be fists and punch him in the knees.

“Aren’t you, like, kinda the manager? Can’t you take one whenever you want?”

“We’re short staffed.” It’s a lie. There are only three people in the shop, and two other people are working with me. One of the girls is in the back checking inventory; the other one is cleaning tables.

Benji glances pointedly at the girl across the shop. “Come on, Lily.”

“I can’t. It’s her break in five minutes. She has to have one. It’s unfair otherwise.”

“Well, what time do you get off?”

“In an hour. I have to go straight to the rink after that.”

“I’ll drive you.” Benji knows I don’t have a car, and that it’ll take almost an hour to get from downtown to the rink at the university by bus.

“Fine. Sure.”

“Great.” He smiles.

I used to find it charming; now it seems more of a leer. He thinks he’s going to convince me to get back together with him. He orders a coffee and a scone and takes a seat on one of the couches. He watches me while I work, which I find highly unsettling. I don’t feel like doing this with him today. But I suppose now’s as good a time as any to let him know this is really over.

At five, I clock out. Benji’s right there, opening doors for me, being all sweet. He’s good at faking nice, as well as guilt-tripping and manipulating. It’s a game he likes to play. I think I’d gotten so used to it after seven years, it seemed normal. But seeing Sunny and Miller together, and even Violet and Alex, I’m getting a much better sense of how dysfunctional my relationship with Benji truly was.

He puts his hand on my lower back, guiding me out of the shop. “You teach at six, right?”

I walk a little faster to get away from his hand. “Yeah.” His car is parked in the lot.

Here’s an interesting fact about Benji: he dresses like he’s homeless, but his family is fairly well off. He drives a brand new Jetta. He didn’t pay for it, though. His parents did, just like they pay for everything else.

He hits the button, unlocking it. I grab the handle before he can and slide into the passenger seat. He closes the door for me, his smile wavering a little as he walks around the car. He’s back to his grinning, fake-pleasant self by the time he’s in the driver’s seat.

“How’ve you been?” he asks, buckling himself in.

“Fine. Good. How about you?”

“Oh, you know. Keeping busy.” That’s Benji code for boinking other girls, or trying to make me think he has. I don’t care if it’s true.

“That’s good.”

He glances at me, lips pursed under his scraggly mustache. He stretches his arm out over the back of my seat as he reverses out of the spot. He nearly hits a customer and has the audacity to flip her off as he pulls out onto the street. I slouch in my seat so she can’t see me. It’s a ten-minute drive to the campus rink. I’m hoping we can manage not to have a screaming match.

“You know, you can always call me if you need a ride.” His fingers graze the back of my neck.

I lurch forward. “Thanks. That’s probably not a good idea, though.”

“Come on, Lils. How long are you planning to stay mad at me this time? I know I’m not perfect, but neither are you. We had a fight. It happens. It’s over now. I know you were mad at me when we were camping, and that’s why you kissed that hockey douche. I’ll forgive you for that.”