How We Stop It ✔️ Reddie Stenbrough Benverly

How Are You

Bev needed a cigarette. She'd painstakingly reapplied her makeup to her face, thinking on the events of the previous evening, then pushed open the windows of her room as wide as they could go, leaning out over the railings.

'Hey,' came a voice to her right, and she jumped.

'Fuck!' she said, clutching her chest, cigarette dangling from her lips. 'You frightened the life out of me.'

Ben grimaced, 'Sorry.' He was leaning out of his own neighbouring window, wanting to indulge in the fresh morning air, wondering what it meant for his relationship with Francesca that she had declined his offer of marriage.

'How was your night?' Bev asked, as nonchalantly as she could muster, as though she hadn't eavesdropped.

Shrugging, Ben said, 'I've had better ones.' Pursing his lips, he said, 'Sounded like you had a good time.'

Bev sighed, lighting the cigarette, 'Why does everyone assume that was me?'

'Well, because you're the only,' Ben explained, then stopped himself. 'Hang on, are you saying that wasn't you and Richie?'

Bursting out laughing, Bev screeched, 'No! Come on. Me and Richie? That would never work.'

'I don't know,' Ben said. 'I could see it. I just remember you were talking to him last night.'

'Yeah. Talking,' Bev clarified, taking a long drag.

Ben held up his hands, 'Alright, alright. I believe you.' He was bothered that he felt so relieved. If Beverly had slept with Richie, that was her business, after all.

Beverly noted that he had assumed based on the fact that Richie and Beverly had been talking, and not based on the idea that they were the only two members of the group who were currently single. She also noticed that Ben didn't seem to much care who it was, as long as it wasn't her.

'I didn't sleep much though, regardless,' she said. 'Don't think anyone did. I talked to Eddie for a bit and then Bill even later.'

Ben pouted, 'Why didn't you come and talk to me?'

'I wanted to,' Beverly admitted, exhaling a thick plume of smoke.

'Then why didn't you?'

She shifted, 'Sounded like you were on the phone. I didn't want to disturb you.'

He tensed, 'Oh.'

Not saying anything, she stubbed her cigarette out on the railing, then flicked the butt away.

'Did you hear anything?' Ben asked quietly.

'No,' Bev lied, wanting to save him from the potential embarrassment or depression that the truth might elicit.

Ben gripped hard at his railing. 'I was talking to Francesca.'

Bev coughed awkwardly, 'How is she?'

He sighed, 'She's fine.'

'How are you?'

Almost crying, Ben turned his head the opposite direction so that Bev could hardly see his face. 'I don't know.' He thought for a moment, then added, 'I don't get asked that very much.'

Musing, Bev said, 'The question doesn't matter so much as whether you feel you can give an honest answer.'

With a hum, he agreed, 'That's very true. Sometimes that's not because you don't want to give it, but more that you think the other person doesn't want to hear it.'

Bev closed her eyes. 'Also true.' As she reopened them, she turned her head to look at him, and he managed to look at her. 'For the record, I want to hear it. If I ask.'