Say Something | Ben Tyler Cook/Newsies

Chapter Thirty-six

I could've sworn my stomach was auditioning for a dinosaur in Jurassic World.

Remembering that I hadn't eaten since this afternoon, which was eight hours ago according to my practically useless phone, I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from blushing. Normally I'd have a meal every two hours, something Ginger was constantly chastising me for, so this was a new experience. I didn't even know my stomach could be this loud.

In reality, the volume of my deprived stomach was impressive. Which made me wonder if Ben was either dead or deaf when he remained absolutely silent. My sporadic growls had become so loud and frequent, that if the roles had been reversed, than I might've punched him straight in the face. And knowing his short temper and previous annoyance with me, I would've thought he'd at least mention it by now.

The thought of him politely ignoring the irritating sound entered my mind and another wave of guilt passed over me. I didn't want him to remain in a tortured silence because he didn't want to hurt my feelings. I'd grown accustomed to his forthrightness and honest opinions, so having him act the opposite was almost unbearable. It meant it was really bothersome.

I hated that possibility almost more than the actual situation.

Out of all the days for my stomach to start errupting, it had to be when Ben and I were trapped inside his sedan.

"I'm really sorry my stomach decided tonight—of all nights!—to turn into a T-Rex. It never does this," I rambled sheepishly. My eyes focused on the dash, too embarrassed to look at Ben.

"That's probably because you usually eat," he replied, a smile in his voice.

I raised my eyebrows in agreement and nodded.

My stomach released another surprisingly loud growl. I pinched the bridge of my nose with my thumb and index finger, praying that my internal hippopotamus-dinosaur-creature would shut up and go to sleep.

"Aren't you hungry?" I inquired, noticing his stomach wasn't freaking out.

"Not really. I ate a little at the party."

I nodded enviously, not knowing the correct response. I hugged my waist, hoping it'd somehow surpress the cries of my unusually vocal stomach, and gripped the coat.

My gaze drifted to the winter wonderland manifesting outside, trying to distract my stomach. Maybe I wasn't as hunger as I thought. Maybe my stomach was transforming into a Nazgul because I was dwelling on and stressing over it. I needed a distraction.

"How was the party before...?" I gestured to his, now clean, shirt, referrencing the accident.

From my peripheral vision, I saw Ben look in my direction before shrugging indecisively.

"It was a party. Josh is more of the party person," he admitted.

"Really?" A twinge of surprise lifted my eyes to his. "I was positive it was the other way around."

"I like parties, but Josh loves them. He's obsessed with organizing events and decorating for them. We joke sometimes that if he wasn't touring in a musical, he'd been a professional party planner."

I laughed through my nose, a smile ghosting my lips. "Sounds exactly like Ginger."

"No wonder Josh is always talking about her."

That comment startled me. Josh would talk to Ben about Ginger? Jealously shot my heart like a bullet, but was immediately replaced by a rush of excitement. Maybe wishful thinking blinded my rationality, but did Josh like Ginger? I was definitely over jumping to conclusions, but all the pieces fit perfectly: staying at the hospital, getting her number, asking if she was going to the party, and now talking about her.