Chapter Text
“Of all people, Rose,” Rey hissed as she tossed in a chunky cable knit sweater into her weekend bag.
Rose’s almond eyes narrowed at her and she crossed her arms. “It’s not my fault. Poe is the one who did the inviting, you know.”
Rey’s jaw clenched and tightened. Of course she knew this wasn’t Rose’s fault; in fact, she also knew she had no business being angry at Poe for his inclusive nature and she ought to be happy to be invited herself, but this knowledge did nothing for her angst and dread.
“I know,” she sighed petulantly as she rolled her panties into tight rolls to fit into the bag. “I’m just complaining, I suppose.”
Rose smirked. “What’s new?”
“Hey,” she snapped at her friend. “What do you mean by that, missy?”
She shrugged, smirking. “Anything involving Ben results in complaint with you. Everyone knows it, my dear.”
If everyone knows it then why is he still invited? She thought bitterly.
“Well, that tends to be the reaction someone like that evokes.”
Rey knew Rose might have questioned and teased her further had this been a few months back, but now she probably thought better of it. She knew better than to get into this conversation with Rey because Rey was relentless when it came to Ben Solo; or rather, how much she dislikes Ben Solo and how much he dislikes her.
Rey generally considered herself a reasonable, accommodating sort of person; it was the survivor within her that cultivated such qualities, really. She knew better than to provoke and be easily provoked, and she usually had a substantial level of self control.
But not when it came to Ben Solo.
If he so much as breathed the wrong way, Rey was on him like a cat was on a rat.
And sometimes Ben reminded Rey of a rat; a large, dark, stealthy, cocky, sinister creature with a hidden agenda.
That agenda being the singular goal to drive her absolutely mad.
It was like some unnatural, wicked cosmic joke had been played out when she met him a year ago. It was as if he had somehow gained access to her owner’s manual that documented every detail of her design and thus he knew exactly which buttons to push. And he did so with the sole intention of messing with her just because he could.
The wicked, smug glint in his eye when he had managed to get a rise out of her was not lost on her; she was well aware that he got some sort of pleasure out of pissing her off, for whatever sick reason.
He was never really cruel or anything toward her; in fact, he usually only spoke when she spoke to him. But when that happened, it always resulted in a back and forth of snide, passive agressive comments. To their mutual friends, their dynamic was akin to banter or friendly feuding. And maybe it was. But not to Rey.
Something about Ben just pissed her off. Even looking at him and that angular, defined, masculine, smug face was enough to make her grind and bare her teeth like a wild animal. The way he’d just sit around and barely talk to anyone and just suck up all the life out of the room like some kind of dashing, manly vacuum drove her crazy.
And he usually was able to attain this level of fury from her without even saying a word. His silence and apathy were the bullets he shot with.
And Rey hated it.
Rey prided herself in her overall friendly, outgoing disposition— another quality she’d cultivated for the sake of survival. She was proud of her ability to strike up a conversation and form a connection with just about anyone; anyone other than Ben Solo, apparently.
From the moment they met, Rey was unspeakably annoyed with his arrogance and indifference.
They met at some cocktail party Poe had; of course it would be Poe to have such a wide range of people at a small, intimate gathering— Poe was even friendlier and even more personable than Rey was, admittedly. She couldn’t fathom how he could be friends with someone like Ben, let alone close friends. She didn’t understand how Ben finagled his way into their circle; he was so unfriendly and aloof, such a stark contrast to everyone else’s collectively fun and lively energy. He hardly ever contributed to the conversation or really participated in any of the things they’d do as a group. If he even bothered to show up, all he’d do was sit around with a disgusted expression, shuffle his limbs like he was bored, and focus those piercing eyes on his phone, a device that looked ridiculously small in his large hands.
And she couldn’t understand how she was the only one so tremendously bothered by him. No one else seemed to have a problem with him. They all seemed to be totally fine with him being around... and he actually seemed relatively fine with them as well. At the very least, he didn’t focus those judging stares at any of them.
Really, it felt like she was the only one Ben seemed to focus all his rude, arrogant attention on.
And if he wasn’t on his phone, he was gawking at Rey with some dumb, pompous, scrutinizing expression. What exactly Ben was thinking or feeling as the lines of his face would gather and his deepset honey eyes would blacken and the cast of his features would darken, Rey didn’t know. What she did know was that she didn’t like it; she didn’t like the idea of him studying her like that, likely looking for some flaw to pass judgement over. He had no business looking at her, forming whatever snide opinions he might be coming up with. So anytime she’d catch him, she’d grit her teeth and hiss quietly: ‘what are you looking at?,’ ‘keep your eyes to yourself,’ ‘turn around,’ and the like. And he’d fumble a bit, mutter under his breath ‘I wasn’t looking at you,’ and eventually refocus his attention to that damn phone of his.
That kind of interaction became routine for them, whenever they found themselves in the other’s company.
The thing that angered her most was that she even bothered to pay tribute to him. That she even bothered to pay attention to him and care what he did or how he acted; it wasn’t like he was interested in anything she or anyone else thought, so it made no sense why he got under her skin the way he did. It was maddening that she continued to allow him to get a reaction from her. She hated knowing he had that power and affect on her.
She hated that she doesn’t know why he does what he does.
And she hated even more that she doesn’t know why she lets him have this hold on her. Even after Rose left and told her to meet them at their usual coffee shop 5 AM so they could all grab something and walk over to the train station to catch the Amtrak, she kept thinking about all of it. How much she loathed Ben and how miserable her circumstances were. And how desperate for a vacation she must be if she’s willing to go on one with him being there for a whole weekend.
Vacations are for relaxing, and that was something she desperately needed. She and tranquility were not friends; she hardly ever slept and when she did sleep, it was shallow and uncomfortable. She was absolutely worn out and needed to rest, and so the idea of visiting the lush, peaceful mountains of Yosemite sounded perfect.
But if she was already losing sleep over this whole Ben situation before the trip even started, she wasn’t sure how she’d survive the weekend.
And just as her eyes went dry from being open and her head throbbed and bones ached from the constant unrest she subjected her body to on the daily, Passion Pit’s ‘Sleepyhead’ blared through her phone’s speaker.
It was her alarm.
Time to get up.