Crossroads ( One-Shot )

Enemies to Friends to Lovers

The first time that she saw Ben Tennyson again, following what her therapist had decided to call "The Incident," he was waiting outside as Jennifer left her state-mandated therapy appointment.

There was a second where she wasn't sure what to think. Ben was alone — she had never seen him by himself before. There was always someone shadowing him, from his teammates to old enemies to the cameras that had recently become obsessed with him.

Then again, the same could be said about Jennifer. The only reason that her therapy sessions weren't already on the front covers of every tabloid in the country was because her team of publicists had paid millions in order to turn reporters away and convince the magazines that the official police report was the only "truth" they needed to worry about.

It seemed that Jennifer's publicists hadn't managed to turn away everyone, though.

It was hard to refuse the boy with an army attached to his wrist.

Jennifer scowled. Seeing Ben brought on a fresh wave of tears. She was caught between burning anger (he took away everything that she had been living for) and crushing grief (fuck, she really had been about to kill him).

She opened her mouth, prepared to yell at Ben for daring to show his face, only for him to beat her to it.

"You okay?" Ben asked. He had left his spot by the curb while Jennifer was lost in thought. Now, Ben stood in front of her, his posture relaxed and nothing but earnest concern in his eyes, shinning like emeralds.

And she hated using such a romantic term for someone she loathed, but really, what other description could describe a gaze that was so unnaturally, perfectly green? Greener than his out-of-style letterman jacket and his clunky watch.

Jennifer struggled to find the right words. Should she apologize for trying to kill him? Would it change anything if she did?

A part of her knew that she should, but she didn't want to let the apology past her lips. That would mean admitting that she had done something wrong, but all she had wanted was for him to go away. If Ben had just left when she told him to, if he had just let her be with Carl, if he didn't think that he knew better like everyone else in Jennifer's life... Then she wouldn't have been forced into a situation where killing Ben was even a possibility.

Her eyes narrowed in indignation. That must be why he had shown up here, where he knew she would be vulnerable and alone: to berate her and to make her feel guilty for something that he had caused.

"Why are you pretending like you care?" Jennifer snapped. Her composure, so carefully crafted for the cameras, cracked right down the middle. "If you're here to chew me out, forget it. My agent already read me the riot act and I can't go anywhere without a police escort."

Ben gave a fugitive glance towards the limo parked up along the curb, eyeing the stone-faced officer waiting patiently for Jennifer to finish her conversation. "Yeah, I noticed," he muttered. Then, louder, "But I didn't come here to lecture you or anything, I wanted to—"

"Save it." Jennifer brushed by him, stalking off towards the limo. "That hack my manager hired can't convince me of anything and neither can you."

His brows drew together in confusion. "'Hack'? You mean Dr. Borges? She's just a therapist, and she wants to help—"

"I don't need any help!" Jennifer shouted, whirling on him. The only thing that kept her from clawing his eyes out with her nails was the fact that an officer was watching her like a hawk. She really couldn't afford another slip-up. Her career in acting was hollow, but now, it really was all that she had. "Why can't you just listen to me? You and everyone else! I don't need help, I just need to be left alone!"