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She shouldn’t be doing this.

She should turn around, go back to the living room, and not think about this room again.

But still… this is Ben Solo’s bedroom. A room she never dreamed she’d see. A room belonging to the boy she’d spent most of her senior year being hopelessly hung up on.

…a boy who, to this day, likes to pretend she doesn't exist.

It’s funny how even now, moving into her second semester of her freshman year at Alderaan State— that memory still stings.

But never mind that.

When Leia asked her stepmom, Maz, if Rey would mind house sitting while they visited Ben’s grandparents in Colorado— Rey hadn’t hesitated. She isn’t even sure why. It’s not like she’s still… hung up on Ben.


Maybe she just wanted a chance to understand him better. It’s insane to her that she lived next door to him for nearly two years but barely knows anything about him— except for the fact that he can’t seem to stand her, that is.

Okay, maybe she’s still... a little hung up.

It’s not her fault he’s ridiculously tall with hair that should be criminal and that mouth of his— regardless. It’s entirely unfair and Rey will not be held accountable.

But what she’s considering now… borders on creepy. She’s fully aware of that. Entertaining the idea of snooping through his room while he’s unaware … not her most shining of moments.

It’s just a peek, she tells herself. Just a quick look around, and then you’ll go back downstairs and pretend it never happened.


She pushes open his door cautiously— almost as if she’s afraid he’ll jump out of the closet to scold her. Ridiculous, as scolding her would mean actually speaking to her— something Ben can never be bothered to do. Even now, around campus, he can barely even spare her a glance.

Ben’s childhood room is… much neater than hers is. Neater than any room she’s ever seen, really. Every little thing seems to have its own place, and she feels as if she’s upsetting the room just by standing in it.

There is a shelf lined with various awards and trophies that she shuffles over to study— grinning at a Chess Club here and a Debate Club there.

There hadn’t really been an available club that Ben wasn’t a part of.  

She lets her fingers brush against a framed picture of Ben and his parents around a half-pitched tent— Han scratching at his hair and smiling into the camera as Ben looks down at the fiasco grumpily with a bucket hat lodged over his hair, making his ears stick out a little.

It should be ridiculous— but it sort of makes her heart hurt.

She’s never quite been able to pinpoint what it is about her that makes Ben dislike her. She’s been nothing but friendly since she moved here. Being placed in Maz’s care would turn out to be the best thing that’s ever happened to her— but living next door to Ben Solo would turn out to be the worst.

It didn’t help that Maz is insanely close to Han and Leia— and that Rey had been forced to attend every dinner, every barbecue, every odd-ended party that they could dream up— having to endure Ben ignoring her not only at school but outside of it as well.

She just wishes she knew why.

She sighs as she moves to his desk— taking into account the neat row of books near his computer. She wonders if she thinks she’ll find some clue in here. Some insight into his mind. 

Maybe the truth is simpler.

Maybe there isn’t any real reason.

God, what is she doing in here? She’s such a creep.

She turns on her heel with every intention of leaving— stilling for a moment as she lets her eyes rake over his well-made bed. Somehow it just seems so Ben.

His wardrobe rarely deviates from your standard black or grey— so it comes as no surprise that his bedding follows this color scheme as well.

She chews on her lip a little— knowing this is the pinnacle of creep— but what the hell. While she’s here…

She flops onto his comforter— pressing her cheek into his pillow. If she breathes deep, she can catch the lingering scent of his shampoo. Yes, it’s sad, she knows that, but she spent over a year (just a year— she is not still hung up on him) pining after this jerk and he owes her a consolatory pillow sniff, damnit.

She takes another deep breath for good measure.

Okay, she chides herself. Enough with the stalker routine. Get out of this room and go back to minding your own business.

She heaves out a sigh as she sits upright— pushing off the bed only to notice she’s severely mucked up the covers with her acrobatic landing. She frowns as she reaches to tuck the edges of the comforter back under the mattress like they’d been before— pushing the fabric back into a neat line underneath just the way she found it.

Her hand meets something hard near the head of the mattress, and she furrows her brow in confusion. Her fingers close around a thick weight, and she pulls out a leather-bound book that looks like some sort of journal.

Oh no, she immediately scolds herself. Don’t you dare. You will not read Ben’s diary. You’ve already exhibited some Joe Goldberg level behavior here. You will not peek at this. No. Not a chance.

She sits on the bed slowly— running her hand over the cover and letting her fingers toy with the leather flap that keeps it shut. She works at her lip nervously, knowing she should put it back.

But no one will ever know, a more devious voice whispers. Just a quick peek won’t hurt.

She glances around as if there is actually someone to catch her doing this, finally working the flap through its clasp and running her fingers along the edges of the pages.

She isn’t sure what is the proper place to start when grossly invading someone’s privacy— finally deciding on cracking it open to a random point in the middle and letting it fall flat to read.

Just a peek, she promises. Then I’m hanging up my proverbial binoculars. Scout’s Honor.

She opens the book to read, quickly finding out that she’s about to get a lot more than she bargained for.

Rey slams the book shut— mouth hanging open as she lets it rest in her lap. She feels… dazed. Trying to wrap her head around the fact that Ben wrote this. That Ben wrote this about her.

She steels herself as she does a quick flip through the book— confirming what seems to be an entire book’s worth of erotic and strange short stories about her and Ben from his point of view.

None of it makes sense.

He hates her. He barely looked at her for the four years they went to high school together, and yet, judging by this book— he apparently had no problem using her as the central focus of any perverted fantasy that popped into his head. What’s worse, he wrote them down.

There are years worth of stories in this book.

She glances down at the salacious secret resting in her hands— knowing she should put it back. That she should pretend she never even found it. Hiding it away under his mattress surely means that he didn’t want anyone to find it… right?

But she’s not going to do that.

She already knows that with the three days she has left in this house…

...she’s going to read every single one.