CHLOE BAKER'S LOST DATE

Chapter Fourteen: Enter Ben

"He knows Dave," I say to Kit over the phone an hour later. "Can you believe it?"

"I guess New York really is a small town."

"Beyond."

"What are you going to do?"

Hide on my couch under a blanket forever? "I'm not sure. I've been gathering intel."

"Do tell."

I adjust my laptop on my legs. I've spent the last hour cyber-stalking Fake Jack. I mean Ben. Ben. His name is Ben, because of course it is. Only my favorite boy name ever. Damn it.

"His name is Ben Hamilton. He's twenty-nine and runs an indie record label."

"Interesting."

"He's from New York, but we knew that already."

"Right."

"And get this—he does have a girlfriend."

"What?"

"Well, they might be broken up, it's not entirely clear. Her name is Rachel Wise and she's beautiful."

I toggle to a photograph of Rachel that I found on her Facebook page, which isn't set to private. She smiles at me through the camera, her head slightly tilted back and laughing. She's everything I always wished I was—two inches taller, hair a little blonder, ten pounds lighter. Like I'd been put through some Instagram filter that shows you an idealized version of yourself. She seems much nicer than me also. She volunteers as a Big Sister, loves hiking on the weekend and is a freakin' kindergarten teacher. She also hangs out with her parents on a regular basis and probably never had a serious fight with them. She also has a younger sister—dark-haired, luminous, alive. She doesn't have her relationship status set, but there are plenty of pictures of Ben on her feed, none of them that old. There are a few of her on his page too, but he doesn't post that often. They look happy in those photos, the way Jack—Ben looked when we were sailing the boat or having lunch. The way he looked right before he kissed me.

"We hate Rachel, obvi," Kit says.

I do kind of hate her, which is stupid. She hasn't done anything to me other than get to Ben first. "She seems nice. She, like, volunteers for things."

"You could do that."

I grab the mohair throw from the back of the couch and wrap it around my shoulders. It's hot out, but I feel cold, chilled, like I'll never warm up. "I don't though."

"True. So, what now?"

"I don't know. Can you imagine if I'd gone to that party at Dave's? I would've died."

"Or maybe you'd be dating him by now."

I try to imagine it. Us running into each other in the small kitchen in Dave's apartment each of us looking for a drink. Would he have smiled or looked horrified when he saw me? I want to think smile, but I keep seeing his face fall in a way that breaks my heart. "Do you think it's significant that I didn't go to the party?"

Kit laughs. "The universe again?"

"Maybe."

"Nah. You found him didn't you?"

"Basically when I'd stopped looking."

"That's the way it is. It doesn't have to mean anything. But you did find him, so if you want meaning, there it is."

I expand a picture of Ben from a year ago, and my heart gives a strange beat. He's wearing a polo shirt with the collar open and his face is tanned. His eyes are hidden behind sunglasses, but they're crinkled around the edges, a wide smile on his face. He looks happy and free, attractive, and open. And he does look like Jack, real Jack, but something about him is more appealing. I don't know why; relationship alchemy is an odd thing.