Back Let It Be Me
Chapters (37)
  1. Half Title Page
  2. Books by Becky Wade
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright Page
  5. Dedication
  6. CHAPTER ONE
  7. CHAPTER TWO
  8. CHAPTER THREE
  9. CHAPTER FOUR
  10. CHAPTER FIVE
  11. CHAPTER SIX
  12. CHAPTER SEVEN
  13. CHAPTER EIGHT
  14. CHAPTER NINE
  15. CHAPTER TEN
  16. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  17. CHAPTER TWELVE
  18. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  19. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  20. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  21. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  22. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  23. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  24. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  25. CHAPTER TWENTY
  26. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  27. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  34. DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
  35. About the Author
  36. Back Ads
  37. Back Cover

She might be wrong, because she could never trust her conclusions about such things, but this did feel datelike to her, despite that she’d driven herself here.

As she met Ben’s beautiful eyes from across the table, her nerves stretched. The intimacy of this dinner was confirming for her that she still wanted the same thing she’d always wanted from Ben. Friendship.

The relationship they already had was not a small thing to her. It wasn’t as if she had a large and close-knit circle of adult friends. She had Tess and Rudy. Ben. And a few more casual friendships at school and church. That was it. She was more than grateful for their current relationship.

But the hopeful look on his face was substantiating what Sebastian had told her—that Ben wanted more. Which made her feel like an appalling human being because she truly, truly did not want to hurt him. He was one of the kindest people she’d ever met. Encouraging, thoughtful, supportive. Dozens of times he’d paved the way for her at Misty River High. He was a fantastic listener and, like Sebastian had pointed out, he was loyal.

She’d been eating with a fork, but now fiddled with the unused chopsticks lying next to her napkin.

“Is something wrong?” Ben asked.

“I . . . have an awkward question to ask you. Do you think our friendship can handle an awkward question or two?”

“Absolutely. What’s your question?”

She stilled the chopsticks, mounded her hands in her lap. “I’m interested in knowing if you like me as more than a friend.”

His head pulled back a few inches with surprise.

She waited.

“Come again?” he said.

“I’m interested in knowing if you like me as more than a friend.”

“Uh. Well.” He fidgeted. “What motivated you to ask that?”

“Curiosity. I’d like to be sensitive to where you’re coming from, but I can’t tell where you’re coming from. In order to find out, I have to ask.”

He gave her his thoughtful look, the one that he gave students when he wasn’t sure how to respond. “Do you like me as more than a friend?”

In her life, she’d often been too much of something for other people. Too much of a brainiac. Too nerdy. Too interested in things no one else was interested in.