Lizzy: Hi, it’s Lizzy. Anne’s sister. We met at band practice the other day, remember?
Ben: Hey. I remember. How u doing?
Lizzy: Good. U?
Ben: Good. How’d u get my number?
Lizzy: Mutual acquaintance.
Ben: Ur sister & Mal don’t want us being friends.
Lizzy: U’ve friend zoned me already? Ouch. I haven’t even made a clumsy inappropriate pass at u yet.
Ben: Ha. U know what I mean. Didn’t realize u were only 20 or connected to Mal. Us talking isn’t a good idea.
Lizzy: Lucky we’re only texting then.
Ben: Bye Liz
Ben: Did u just send me a pic of ur lunch?
Lizzy: No. It’s an artistic representation rendered in fries and ketchup of my immense sadness over u ignoring my texts. See the face in the middle?
Ben: What’s the green stuff?
Lizzy: Those are pickle tears. Stole them off a friend’s burger.
Ben: Cute.
Lizzy: Are u moved?
Ben: Absolutely.
Lizzy: Are u going to talk to me now?
Lizzy: Haha. You’re having pizza for lunch?
Ben: Does it look sad or happy?
Lizzy: It looks lewd. How dare you send such explicit pepperoni. I’m not that kind of girl.
Ben: Ha. Got to work. Later, sweetheart.
Ben: Got no one to jam with & your town’s music scene is crap on Mondays.
Lizzy: Never. Try The Pigeon. A friend goes to their open sessions.
Ben: I’m there. :)
Lizzy: How’d you go last night?
Ben: Good. Thanks for the info. Not Nashville but not bad. Might head up to Seattle for a few days. Friend’s playing up there. Anyway, TY
Lizzy: You’re welcome. Busy day?
Ben: Mal’s walked in. Can’t talk.
Lizzy: Ok. Later.
Ben: Feel shit going behind his back.
Lizzy: Let’s talk later.
Lizzy: Hi! How’d ur day go?
Ben: Busy right now.
Lizzy: Ok
Lizzy: I’m going to assume by radio silence that you’re not comfortable with us being text buddies. Didn’t mean to put u in a bad position with Mal. I’ll delete ur number.
Ben: Don’t.
Lizzy: ?
Ben: I want to know if u need something u can call me.
Lizzy: Thanks. But I don’t want to complicate things for u.
Ben: Problem is I like talking to u. Maybe if we keep it on the down low?
Lizzy: Ok. I’d like that.
Ben: Me too.
Ben: Attached pic is sunset out at Red Rock.
Lizzy: Amazing. What are you doing out there?
Ben: Filling in on keyboard for a friend. His guy broke hand.
Lizzy: Crap. Didn’t know you played piano.
Ben: Grandma taught me. But Dave wanted bass so I learned.
Lizzy: Wow. Play for me sometime?
Ben: How about now?
Lizzy: Over the phone? That would be awesome.
Ben: Calling.
Ben: In the studio in LA for a few. How u going?
Lizzy: Studying for a test. Wish me luck.
Ben: You got this, sweetheart. Won’t distract u. Later.
Lizzy: :) Later
Lizzy: Roses are red, violets are blue, I like u Ben, do u like me to?
Ben: Ur a terrible poet.
Lizzy: True. I think I might stick w psychology. How’s ur day going?
Ben: Slow. Had a business meeting. Boring as shit.
Lizzy: U just want to play music?
Ben: Got me on that. How u doing?
Lizzy: Had an awesome prac. Off to work at book store next. Then got an assignment due.
Ben: Work all u do?
Lizzy: Pretty much. But I enjoy it. Texting u just made my day, tho.
Ben: Fuck ur sweet. Tell me something bad about u. Make it easier for me to stay away.
Lizzy: I see no benefit to me in doing this …
Ben: Go on. I’m waiting.
Lizzy: I suck at sports and I’m messy.
Ben: Can’t imagine you messy.
Lizzy: My apartment looks like a war zone. Anne always tidied. Gave me bad habits. What about u?
Ben: I flirt with girl’s I’m not supposed to. Otherwise I’m perfect.
Lizzy: All that fame and fortune and not an ego in sight.
Ben: Exactly.
Lizzy: :)
Ben: Gotta go, Jim’s waiting. Later sweetheart.
Lizzy: Later Ben
Ben: WTF is that pic?
Lizzy: U tell me.
Ben: A mash up of a lion, a beer, & a girl’s eyes (yours?)
Lizzy: Right on all counts!
Ben: What’s it mean?
Lizzy: I am using my psych studies to mess with your mind. Studies show association with fear encourages romantic thoughts.
Ben: Sly. U uncovered my fear of beer?
Lizzy: Haha. The fear is the lion.
Ben: Ok. So what’s the beer?
Lizzy: You know the phenomenon of beer-goggles?
Ben: Chicks look hot when you’re drunk?
Lizzy: Right. But turns out the beer-goggler doesn’t need to be drunk. Just an association with beer will do. Even a picture.
Ben: Me looking at a pic of beer will make u seem hotter?
Lizzy: You can’t argue with science. You poor hapless male. You never stood a chance.
Ben: Liz, I think ur gorgeous. Save the beer pics for someone who needs em.
Lizzy: Damn ur smooth
Ben: U like that?
Lizzy: Very much
Ben: Good. U poor hapless female. U never stood a chance.
Lizzy: :)
Ben: What do you think?
Lizzy: I think that’s a pic of a banjo. Yours?
Ben: Deering Black Diamond. Thinking of buying it.
Lizzy: U play banjo too? Whoa.
Ben: Want to learn.
Lizzy: And I want to hear you play. You’re a musical virtuoso. Do you sing?
Ben: Ha. U do not want to hear me sing. Trust me. Think I should buy it?
Lizzy: Do it. :)
Ben: Done. :)
Lizzy: ===v=^=={@}
Ben: This another psych test?
Lizzy: No. It’s a rose. I worked on it all morning.
Lizzy: Well … a couple of minutes between classes.
Ben: Beautiful.
Lizzy: :) Why don’t we have coffee?
Lizzy: Is the lack of a response a no or are u shy?
Ben: Shy of Mal shooting me. We better just stick 2 text.
Lizzy: Fair enough.
Ben: Been thinking about u. Talk to me.
Lizzy: I’d love to. Calling.
Ben: U ok? Haven’t heard from u lately.
Lizzy: I didn’t want to seem too obvious. The stalker handbook said play it cool.
Ben: I know ur not a stalker. Ur dangerous in another way.
Lizzy: I love that u said that.
Lizzy: So do u actually have real stalkers?
Lizzy: Apart from me, I mean.
Ben: You’re not a real stalker. They camp across the street with binoculars.
Lizzy: That’s crazy. U get a much better resolution with a telescope.
Ben: You’re a goose.
Lizzy: Our honesty is beautiful.
Lizzy: Psychologically speaking, most relationships fail due to lack of constructive criticism. Obvious we’re made for each other.
Ben: You’re a total goose. Seriously.
Lizzy: See what I mean?
Lizzy: But we were talking about stalkers.
Ben: Not really for me. I’m lucky. The other guys can’t walk down the street without getting hassled. I’m less in the limelight. Not so recognizable.
Lizzy: U kidding? You’re built like King Kong.
Ben: Ha. Jimmy had stalkers that got creepy. One broke into his place a few years back stole some shit.
Ben: Mal had one that ended in a restraining order.
Lizzy: Wow. What did the stalker do?
Ben: No, the stalker had to get a restraining order against Mal. He kept showing up at the guys work, trying to hug him and leaving weird phone messages etc.
Lizzy: Lol.
Ben: Gotta go. Music breaks over.
Lizzy: I make killer cheesy cornbread.
Ben: Do u?
Lizzy: I do. & I just so happen 2 be making some right now. My plans tonight r cheesy cornbread & bad zombie films. Tempted?
Ben: Like u wouldn’t believe.
Lizzy: But ur busy w the guys?
Ben: No. Guys with their girlfriends. I’m busy killing people.
Lizzy: Online I trust?
Ben: Ha. Yes.
Lizzy: I’d better leave u 2 it then.
Ben: I can torpedo & talk to u. How was ur day?
Lizzy: Not bad. Classes mostly. How about u?
Ben: Recording. Fucking frustrating. Jim was in a mood. This is just between us, yeah?
Lizzy: Absolutely.
Ben: Good. Boring night. Portland is no LA.
Lizzy: Come over. We can throw cornbread at the undead on tv. I’ll judge you on your aim.
Ben: Fuck I wish I could.
Lizzy: Me too
Ben: One day
Lizzy: U awake? I can’t sleep.
Ben: Count sheep like a good girl.
Lizzy: Can’t. Too busy thinking about u.
Ben: Shit, Liz. No.
Lizzy: No, what?
Ben: Don’t tell me ur in bed at 2 in the morning thinking about me. OK? U cannot tell me that. Too fucking tempting.
Ben: What are you wearing?
Lizzy: U really want me to answer that?
Ben: Yes.
Ben: No.
Ben: Shit. You’re killing me. You know that right?
Lizzy: You say the nicest things. Night, Ben.
Ben: Night, sweetheart.
Lizzy: Sorry I missed your call earlier. Good luck with ur date with Lena tonight.
Lizzy: Actually, that was a lie. I didn’t mean that at all.
Lizzy: About ur date. Not about missing ur call.
Lizzy: Now I feel guilty because Lena is so damn nice. I’m going to stop acting crazy & go meet a friend at Steel. Over & out.
Ben: The dive bar downtown? It’s a fucking meat market.
Lizzy: Just arrived. Guess I’ll see for myself.
Ben: That place is a pit. Get ur ass in a cab & go home. Ur not old enough to b drinking.
Lizzy: I have fake ID. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.
Ben: I’m fucking serious. U are not going in there. Full of fucking creeps.
Lizzy: Have a nice night w Lena. U deserve someone great like her. Really.
* * *
Still no answer from Ben on my last text.
Emo indie music wailed out of the speakers, as Christy, my ex-roommate, bopped as best she could on the spot beside me.
“Great place, huh?” she yelled.
“Yeah. Great.”
The place sucked. I mean literally—my shoes stuck to the floor. The bar was grossly lacking in hygiene. Also, it was overcrowded and reeked of decades of spilled drinks, questionable hookups, and broken hearts. Pretty much in that order. My clothes were going to stink for days. And if one more person trod on my toes, exposed care of my sweet ’50s-style black heels, I’d scream. When I’d chosen them I’d needed a pick-me-up, I’d wanted to feel pretty. But now all around us people pressed in. Sweat raced down my spine, dampening the back of my black T-shirt and the band of my jeans.
Yuck.
I pretty much wanted to call in one of those toxic hazard teams to hose me down, decontaminate me from this pit of beer and despair. Ben might have had a point about the place being shit. Damned if I’d ever admit it to him, though. Nope, I was going to have fun if it killed me. I slid my cell out of my pocket just for fun, taking a peek at the glowing green screen. Nothing. What a surprise. Time to saddle up ye olde horse of hopelessness and move on.
“He answer yet?” asked Christy, leaning in and yelling to be heard over the music.
I shook my head.
My former dorm roommate sucked back some beer. “Fuck him.”
“I’m trying.”
“What?”
“Yes,” I hollered, giving her a brave smile. “Fuck him.”
“You can do better.” Little lines appeared between her brows. “You can.”
“Thank you.” I highly doubted that. Nice of her to say so, though. I drank a hefty mouthful of my third Moscow Mule. Vodka was the only way I’d get through this. My feelings for Ben were just a weird obsessive-compulsive disorder or something. Or no, posttraumatic stress from meeting manic Mal. I’d inadvertently attached my affections to the first sane and single hot bearded man in the room. A totally plausible analysis. Freud with his own hairy face would be impressed.
Not that I’d be volunteering that analysis for my finals.
Actually, my psych books had been less than helpful in working out exactly what this love thing was about. To be fair, I did learn some fun facts. Turns out a boy rat and a girl rat, both virgins meeting for the first time, can fornicate immediately in a proficient fashion. No messing around working out the mechanics, they’re just into it. But not so with the higher primates like monkeys. They bumble and fumble their way through initial attempts, working out the relationship and requirements. So it was a relief to know it wasn’t just me. Or even just humans. Apes screw up first dates too. And they don’t even have condoms or bra straps to deal with.
Anyhoo, the point is, the books were big on weird facts about animals getting it on but short on the particulars regarding the type of love or lust at first sight that was plaguing my every waking moment—and a good majority of my nonwaking moments too.
Christy’s new roommate, Imelda, glared at me over the edge of her bright blue drink. Lord knows what was in there to make it that color. I’d only moved into Anne’s old apartment two weeks ago. Apparently, however, these two had already bonded to the point of creepy possessiveness.
The bar had been Imelda’s choice.
“Chris says you know the guys from Stage Dive,” she said.
My ex-roommate shifted nervously.
I just shrugged. Photos of Anne and Mal together had done the rounds of the Internet a couple of times. It was pretty much an open secret in Portland these days. Though me talking about my sister’s business didn’t need to happen. Ever. And Christy was well aware of that policy.
“I think it’s bullshit,” the girl continued, standing so close her hot breath hit my ear.
I resisted the urge to recoil. “Think what you like.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Why don’t we dance?” Christy suggested, sounding as fake peppy as could be. “Quick, drink up!”
We did as told. Then, all of a sudden, Imelda was all hands up in the air waving them about without a care. She snagged Christy’s hand and started dragging her through the crowd. Christy in turn caught my wrist, towing me along. Alrighty then. Our progression through the throng was not gentle. Elbows and assorted other body bits bumped into me, sending me reeling this way and that. A hand grabbed my ass.
“Hey!” I growled, spinning around. In the dark sea of people surrounding us it could have been anyone. “Asshole.”
When I turned back, Christy and her new BF had disappeared. Strobe lights blinded me. I could barely see for shit. Crowds have always made me nervy, and this place was a crush. It wasn’t a phobia, exactly, just a distinct dislike I’d been working hard on overcoming.
Surely Christy would realize she’d lost me and come back. Surely. Waiting. Still waiting. Some chick trod good and hard on my toe, bringing actual tears to my eyes. I tried to hop on one foot to give the other a rub and almost landed on my butt in the process. Yeah, Christy wasn’t coming back. Furthermore, I might have never loved crowds, but right now I was deep in the land of hate.
God, screw this.
It was ridiculous. I was a hairsbreadth away from being twenty-one and over the whole scene already. Guess I’d just go back to my lonely girl apartment. As nice as it was to have some space, I’d never actually lived on my own before. I wasn’t lonely, exactly, it was just that the absence of other people made for a definite adjustment. Bet Ben and Lena were getting on like a house on fire. How could they not, what with Lena being all funny and gorgeous and Ben being Ben.
Another body in the near-dark knocked into me, sending me staggering sideways. Since when did you need to wear full body armor to be in a bar? Perhaps I should head back to the bar, where we’d been standing before. But surely I was better staying here, where Christy last saw me. I looked back and forth in indecision. Neither option appealed. Hell, being here no longer appealed.
I blinked furiously. Not crying, just … you know, my toe stung.
It might be time to go catch a cab. I’m pretty sure at home I had all of the ingredients required for emergency mood-enhancing nachos. The bonus being not having to share it with anyone. Call me greedy, I don’t care, and bring on the melted cheese, baby.
Suddenly, two huge hands descended upon my shoulders and I was forcibly turned around. Some sort of mountain stood before me. A man mountain.
“Ben!” I cried happily, throwing myself at him (which of course didn’t move the man an inch). His big hot body felt divine, heavenly. I wrapped my arms tight around his waist and clung ever so slightly. “I’m so glad to see you.”
His hands tensed on my shoulders, fingers rubbing. “I told you not to come in here.”
“I know.” I sniffed, then set my chin on his chest and gazed up adoringly at him. “But have you noticed how I actually make my own choices like a real live adult?”
“You don’t say?” He gave me a dour look and tucked an errant strand of hair behind my ear. Such a simple, sweet move; it worked for me big-time. Of course, anything involving him touching me would.
“How was your date with Lena?”
No reply.
“That good, huh? Oh well.”
“I can see you’re real cut up about it,” he said with a smile.
“Yeah. The pain goes deep. It’s really good to see you.”
He looked at me for a long moment. “Yeah, you too. Still, kinda pissed you came in here, though.”
What a silly statement. I gave him both brows up and Oh really in the eyes. Start out as you mean to go on and all that. Because at no stage would I be answering to the man for where I went and what I did. Trust and respect, etcetera.
He shrugged, unimpressed. “You didn’t like me going out with Lena. I didn’t like you coming here.”
“Both of these things are true,” I said, relenting just a little. “What are we going to do about them, though? That’s the question.”
“Hmm.” He grabbed hold of my hand, giving it a squeeze. “C’mon, I’ll drive you home.”
“I’d like that.”
Without another word he led me through the crowd, clearing the way with his body. In his plain jeans and plaid shirt, no one seemed to recognize him. In Portland, he was just one more bearded, tattooed dude among many. Attached to Ben, no one messed with me. I was neither bumped nor groped, thank god. Ah, togetherness. What a rare and beautiful thing. No wonder Anne was so wacky about Mal if this was how he made her feel. Walking beside Ben, my heart seemed so light I might hit my head on the ceiling.
“Later,” the very pierced bouncer said, opening the door to let us through.
“Thanks, Marc.”
Outside, the air was crisp, decidedly cool. I bundled myself up in my coat. Ben didn’t seem to have brought one. He just shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders. A beaten-up Chevy truck, from the ’80s at best, sat at the corner. It might once have been pale blue. With all the fading and the couple of spots of rust, it was hard to say.
“This is your ride?” I asked, surprised.
In lieu of a response, Ben unlocked the passenger side door, holding it open.
“Huh.”
I climbed up and in, sitting carefully on the cold, cracked vinyl seating. Cassettes spilled out of the glove box. Actual cassettes. “Stunned” kind of fit the situation. The man had money, lots of it.
He swung the door shut, then strode around to the driver’s side. Soon enough the engine was roaring to life with minimal splutter. Clearly the car was kept in good condition.
“Expecting a Porsche?” he asked.
“No. Just something slightly less older than me.”
He snorted.
We pulled out into the traffic, the low hum of some old Pearl Jam song playing. Cassettes. Christ.
“It belonged to my grandfather,” he said. “He taught me how to fix it, handed over the keys when I got my license.”
“Nice.”
He gave me side eyes.
“I mean it, Ben. I didn’t have much in the way of family myself. So I get that’s nice.”
A faint smile. “Yeah. We didn’t have a lot of money so … I thought so.”
The shadows of his face were frankly fascinating beneath the passing street lights, the sudden brightness of oncoming traffic, everything. He had perfect cheekbones. You could almost miss them above the beard, but the lines of his face were both sharp and beautiful. His lips, for instance. I could have stared at them for hours.
“Will you tell me about your home?” I asked.
“Not much to tell,” he said, eventually. “Mom and Dad owned a cleaning business so they were gone most of the time. They were real hard workers. The business was everything to ’em. My grandparents lived next door and they fed us and kept an eye on things.”
“Must have been wonderful to have them around. A stable influence like that can mean all the difference to a kid.”
“You diagnosing me or something, Miss Psychology Student?”
“No. Sorry.” I groaned. “Please continue. You mentioned an ‘us’?”
“Me and my sister.”
“You have a sister? What’s she like?”
He squinted, little lines appearing beside his eyes. “Martha’s … Martha. She’s living over in New York these days, enjoys the party scene.”
“That’s pretty far.” I couldn’t imagine being on the opposite side of the country from Anne, living without my last bit of real family close by. “You must miss her.”
“It’s probably for the best,” he said. “She caused some shit a while back. I didn’t help much either.”
I stayed silent, waiting for him to go on. People usually would feel compelled to fill a silence, you just had to be patient.
“Martha and David went out all through high school, and after, when the band started to take off. Then she did something stupid.” He shook his head. “So fucking dumb.”
“What did she do?”
He raised a brow. “You haven’t heard?”
“No.”
“Huh. Thought Ev might have talked about it.”
“I’ve only met her a couple of times.”
“Yeah, I guess.” His fingers tapped out a beat against the steering wheel. “Martha didn’t like Dave being away so much. We were working hard, touring when we weren’t recording. Thought she understood.…”
A fire engine roared past with sirens blazing, distracting us for a moment.
“We were finally getting somewhere, really starting to make it, playing to bigger crowds, and getting some decent publicity.” He exhaled noisily. “Anyway, she must have figured with him being on the road all the time that he had to be messing around on her. She got pissed one night and cheated on him.”
“Oh.”
“Guy couldn’t have been more crazy in love with her if he tried. Never even saw him look at another woman. They’d been so tight for years. I tried to tell her, but she got this stupid idea into her head, and … yeah.” His low laugh was bitter, horrible to hear. “She took something beautiful and shit on it. Everything went to hell after that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too. Really thought they’d make it, get married, have kids and everything. Live the dream. She worked as an assistant for the band for a while, but when Dave and Ev got married she didn’t take it too well.”
“That’s when she moved?”
“That’s when she moved.” He said nothing for a moment. “Tried one last time to get him back, and I was stupid enough to help. It didn’t turn out so well. Things were tense between me and Dave for a while, and it wasn’t good for the band.”
“I’m sorry.” I took a big breath, choosing my words with care. This had obviously hurt him. It was in the tone of his voice, the shadows on his face. Also, I didn’t want to treat him like a patient or a subject. He mattered to me much deeper than that.
“It seems you guys are closer to brothers than friends, even though he and your sister didn’t wind up staying together,” I said. “But I’m sorry you got caught in the middle of it. That must have been hard.”
“Yeah. Don’t know why I’m telling you all this.” He gave me a look out of the corner of his eye. “You’re too easy to talk to, you know?”
I smiled. “So are you.”
“You haven’t told me anything yet.”
“Ah, all right.” I rubbed my palms against the sides of my jeans, warming them up. What to tell him? His honesty and openness meant I could give him no less. Might as well just lay it all out. “My parents divorced when I was fourteen. It messed me up for a while. But Anne helped me get back on track, helped me graduate and get into college.”
“Pretty good sister.”
“She’s an amazing sister.”
His gaze switched back and forth between me and the road. “You work hard too, though.”
“Yes. But college is expensive and she sacrificed a lot to get me there, so she deserves the bulk of the credit.”
“Sounds like you both hauled ass to get out of a bad situation.”
“Hmm.” I rested my head against the back of the car seat. The man was far too easy to talk to. I liked it. “That’s it really. I work part time at the same bookstore as Anne.”
He half smiled, and sadly even that made me giddy. God, he was beautiful. I never wanted this car ride to end. We could drive to Wisconsin for all I cared. Just point the hood east and keep going until we ran out of gas.
“Messed you up in what way?” he asked.
That stopped the happy. “Not a topic I like to talk about.”
He just waited, drawing me out, playing me at my own game. Sneaky.
“I hung out with some losers. Drank, did drugs. Speed and pot, nothing too hard-core. I ditched school and did things I shouldn’t have. Dangerous things. Dated the wrong guy for a while.” My fingernails dug into me through the fabric of my jeans. All of those memories were ugly. I’d been so young and idiotic. “Then I got busted stealing. The guy who owned the shop kept saying he was going to call the police, but Anne managed to talk him out of it. That scared the shit out of me. Plus, seeing how upset Anne got about it. It finally got through to me that I wasn’t the only one hurting. I stopped sneaking out at night and messing around, started going to school again. I was just so angry that they couldn’t keep their shit together and be like a normal mom and dad.”
“I bet.”
“Though what even is normal? Seems like everyone’s parents are divorced these days.”
“Yeah. Just about.”
“Doesn’t make for much of an example, does it?”
He made a humming noise of agreement.
“So that’s why I’m into psychology. One day I hope to be able to help other kids ride out the rough patches.”
He smiled.
“Anyway, enough of me and my early-teen angst.” I crossed my legs, turning toward him in the seat. “When did you start playing bass?”
“Fourteen or so. Dave was always crazy about guitars, and then Mal’s mom got him the kit. Jimmy’d already decided he was gonna be the singer. I had an uncle who owned an old bass guitar. Grandpa talked him into giving it to me.”
“The same Grandpa who gave you the truck? He sounds awesome.”
“He was, Lizzy. He really was.”
We pulled up outside my apartment building. Funny, I’d never hated the sight of it before, but I didn’t want the trip to end. Time alone with Ben, talking, was special. I clasped my hands in my lap, studying the lines of his face. A moment later, he turned off the engine.
“Thank you for the lift home,” I said.
“Any time. I mean that.” He rested a hand on the steering wheel, shifting slightly to look my way.
Happy chemicals stirred inside of me. Lustful, crazy things telling me to jump him, to climb all over him and cover his gorgeous face in kisses. To rub my jaw against his beard and see if it felt soft or not. To let him see exactly how he affected me, how adored he could be.
“Kills me when you look at me like that,” he murmured.
I just smiled. My tongue was too tangled for any attempt at wit. Thing was, I couldn’t not look at him like that. It just wasn’t in me to be any other way, not with him.
He exhaled hard, staring out the windshield. “I go to that club a couple of times a week to pick up. Place like that? Easy as hell. Pretty much the only reason people go there is to get drunk and get laid.”
“I see.”
“I’m serious.”
“Okay, Ben. You’re not a virgin. Duly noted. Me neither, by the way.”
Dreamy dark eyes pinned me in place, owning me. He licked his lips. Every time he did that my hormones erupted into the song of joy, a full orchestra plus heavenly choir accompanying. The whole shebang. It was ridiculous.
“Fuck, you’re pretty,” he sighed. “Make me wish for all sorts of shit I shouldn’t.”
“Who says you shouldn’t?” I asked, leaning closer.
“Mal. Your sister.”
“This isn’t about them. It’s about you and me.”
“Sweetheart. Liz…” The deep, dirty way he said my name, holy shit. His voice rumbled through me, lighting fires and causing chaos everywhere it went. I’d never be the same.
“Yeah?” I leaned closer, and then closer still, heart thundering and lips at the ready. Never in my life had kissing someone seemed so important. I needed his mouth on mine. His breath and his body, all of him.
Nothing else mattered.
I turned, propping a knee beneath me to help with the height difference. Hesitant but hopeful smile in place, I put my hand on his shoulder, getting closer. Fuck waiting on him to make the first move. Time to go after what I wanted.
“Liz.”
“Yeah?”
That’s when it registered. Ben’s body language was all wrong. The man wasn’t moving into me, wanting me back. I was alone in this.
“You don’t…” Words caught in my dry throat, sticking. I withdrew my hand.
“I can’t.”
“What?”
He stared straight ahead. “You should go in.”
Whatever face I had on, it wasn’t happy. “You want me to go?”
“It’s for the best.”
“It’s for the best,” I parroted, staring perplexed at the dogged shadows on his face.
“I can’t do this, Liz. I can’t do it to the band.”
“And you answer to the band for who you date?”
“We’re not dating.”
I cleared my throat. “No, we’re not dating. But god, we spent hours talking and texting to each other.”
The look he gave me was tortured. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“Right.” All of the emotion inside me felt huge, overwhelming. Still my mind worked, turning all of the evidence over, trying to figure out where I’d lost the track. How the fuck I came to be flailing in the woods. “I think you were a little bored, a little lonely maybe, so you played with me.”
With a grimace he turned away.
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
Nothing.
At least now I knew where I stood. As if that was any real consolation. I pushed open the passenger’s side door, climbing down.
“Liz—”
I slammed the truck door shut, cold metal stinging the palms of my hands. Done with him. I was so damn done with him. The bitter night air slapped me in the face, waking me right the hell up. How fucking embarrassing. I’d felt so much and been so sure. Went to show you how much I knew.
Nothing.
Not a single fucking thing.
Time to put my heart and hopes back on ice.