Forty-Three
“RILEY! WAIT!”
A taxi screamed its disapproval as Ben stumbled into its path.
“Oh, fuck it!” The Brit went for it, darting north across West 39th Street, his sudden sprint unleashing a shrill chorus from the barrage of cars grinding to a halt.
Riley didn’t dare look back. Keep going, get to the subway—oww! Her boots pinched as she rushed toward the colorful pandemonium of Times Square.
“WAIT!” Skirting bumpers and rude hand gestures from passing car windows, Ben swerved around the curb, turning right and crossing Seventh Avenue before a red traffic signal had a chance to end his chase. Legs pumping, he fought with his jacket, stuffing his arms through the sleeves. “RILEY!”
The glow of her phone caught her eye. Mom? No, Erika. In a texting frenzy.
Everyone’s gossiping—I said no drama!
Srsly? Ben and Leia? WTF???
You OK?
Riley shook her head. NO! Turning it off, she began to run, jamming the phone in her purse. She frantically dug around inside, her fingers searching, the subway entrance half a block away. Shit! She flicked past her BBC security pass, Sephora name tag, and wallet. Stupid MetroCard! Where is it?! Boot heels scuffing the pavement, she looked over her shoulder. Ben was stomping to a halt, something on the ground grasped his attention.
He stooped, picking up her MetroCard.
FUCK! She turned away. With twenty dollars loaded on it, she couldn’t afford to leave it behind.
“Riley! We need…” Heavy breaths fought through his words as he ran, meeting her on the corner of Seventh and West 40th. “To talk…please.” His shaky hand grasped her elbow.
“Talk?” She whipped her arm away. “Why? We’ve talked for hours and it turns out I don’t know you at all.”
“Please, let me explain.”
“No, let me explain.” She leaned in, not backing down. “Your little secret with Leia embarrassed me in front of my friends, in front of my ex, and God knows who else! There were TV people there, Ben!”
“I’m sorry. I’d never hurt you on purpose, especially like this.” An ambulance stuck on Seventh raised its shrill siren, urging traffic to move and prompting Ben and Riley to cover their ears.
“You slept with Leia!” she shouted and spun around, racing quickly past the crowd crossing West 40th Street, the chaotic flashing billboards around them no match for the electrical storm inside her head.
Ben darted after her. “I didn’t even know her name was Leia until you told me. She said her name was Lisa!”
“Oh, spare me.” She crossed her arms and kept walking, her boots barely touching the Fashion Walk of Fame disks embedded in the sidewalk.
“It’s true! Look, I know you’re pissed—you have every right to be—but give me a minute and I’ll tell you everything.”
“A minute?” She huffed.
“There’s not much to tell. Please?”
She yanked her MetroCard from his hand. “One minute!”
“I met her my first night at the strip club, in the bar watching the guys. She introduced herself as Lisa and said she was checking out venues for a bachelorette.”
“And?” The pedestrian crossing blinked 05, 04, 03—Riley didn’t wait. She ran across West 41st with Ben’s long strides overtaking her. They reached the other side without a second to spare.
“She kept buying me drinks and flirted—a lot. I was flattered. A club full of fit blokes and she was giving me the eye.”
“You weren’t flattered, you were horny.”
He exhaled heavily and looked up. Airbrushed actors and models, all Hollywood smiles and picture-perfect lives, passed judgment from gigantic ads. “Hunter came over and asked if I could stay out for the night. He was bringing some girl home. I had told Lisa—Leia—I was sleeping on his couch. That’s when she offered.”
“Sex…” Riley grimaced, weaving through the non-stop onslaught of people.
“Not upfront—no. She just said I could stay at her place for the night.”
She shook her head. “She wanted to fuck you. You wanted to fuck her.”
His face fell as he tried to catch her eye. “I needed a place to kip! And Leia never mentioned hockey or you. She told me she was a student, working on her master’s at some fashion school.”
“The Fashion Institute of Technology.” A bus wheezed by with a Lairds and Liars season three advertisement stretched along its side, but everything beyond Ben was just a noisy blur.
“I swear, I didn’t know she was married.”
Yeah, right. Riley stared ahead, the dazzling billboards advertising everything the heart desires—cars, clothing, jewelry—but nothing she craved most: honesty, loyalty…love. “So that huge rock on her left hand didn’t mean anything, huh?”
“No ring—her fingers were bare. I noticed at the bar.”
“So, you were interested. Don’t pretend you weren’t.”
“Riley, what hot-blooded single guy chatting to an attractive woman doesn’t check for a ring? I checked your hand the minute I met you. And don’t deny it—women do it, too.”
Damn. Yeah, he’s got me there. “Well, you would’ve seen wedding photos in her apartment. She has tons.”
“I saw paint cans, a ladder, furniture covered with drop sheets.” He scratched his head. “And to be honest, after five minutes, I wasn’t exactly hunting around for evidence she was married…”
“Don’t paint me a picture.” Riley stopped abruptly, the dancing lights above the door to the West 42nd subway entrance inviting her in. Your minute’s up.
“It was a mistake.” He swallowed heavily. “I left in the morning. We didn’t exchange numbers.”
“No, just bodily fluids.” She crossed her arms again and swayed back and forth, as agitated as she was chilly.
Ben dipped his head. “Two weeks later, she’s at the club, you’re at the club—I was fucking gobsmacked. Riley, I really liked you!”
And I liked you! You were lovely and respectful, dancing with me, and then… “You were a dick at the bar.”
“I figured Leia told you about us sleeping together…but when it never came up, it was like…I dunno, a second chance.”
“What? A second chance to fuck me? Yeah, ’cause that’s what you do.” Her palm tightened around her MetroCard. “You’re just a fuckboy. You’re all attentive and sweet until you get what you want.”
“I know you think I’m a dog, but I’ve only slept with two women here, that’s it, both one-night stands, and neither meant anything.” He moved closer. “Riley, please, don’t be cross—”
“I can’t believe you slept with her. Of all people…”
“Yeah, she’s not my type. You’d never catch Leia eating a chicken dinosaur.”
Wha—? Oh. Riley’s angry glare softened into a defiant pout.
“You said she wasn’t a close friend, Riley, so I thought, great, lucky escape—it’ll never come up. I was stupid thinking you would never hear about it. I should’ve mentioned it…”
“Yeah, you should’ve. I guess I was a real disappointment to you, offering a place to stay that night, without benefits…”
“Please don’t think I stayed at yours expecting sex, Riley. You’re…different…”
Here we go again. He thinks I’m some fragile born-again virgin. “I’m not a prude!” Her chest rose and fell as she spit out her response, earning a “You tell ’im, girl!” from a passing clique of women out on the town.
Ben edged closer, ducking his head to keep their conversation private. “I know you’re not.”
Riley lowered her volume. “What you or any of my friends do behind closed doors is none of my business.”
“So then why does any of this matter?”
Chasing breaths, her mind raced. Why? WHY? Because of Christmas socks and candy heart hellos, peanut butter breakfasts and bedhead hair. Because you make me laugh even when my heart is breaking. Because you ask and really listen to my answers. You see me like no one else has…you were my escape. Her mouth gaped. You were my island.
“Riles, why do you care who I was with?”
Because… Riley swallowed, her heart pounding, leaping into her throat. “Because I—” She flung her arms around his neck and pulled him in, capturing Ben’s mouth with her own. Soft and warm, his lips responded immediately, parting with a surprised moan as his hands claimed her waist, fingers digging in, tugging her close.
His lips…oh, wow…I’m not imaging this—this is happening! A pleasurable tingling sensation swept from Riley’s chest through her body. She tilted her head and slipped her tongue in his mouth, kissing him harder, deeper, tasting him as her hands weaved into his hair, so fluffy and thick. She clutched fistfuls, refusing to let go, holding on so her knees—trembling with relief, excitement, lust—didn’t give way and end their impromptu clinch.
A heavy warmth grew in her cotton panties and she pressed her hips against his, prompting Ben’s fingers to grip her sweater. The sounds he’s making…little moans in my mouth, and his kiss—so eager, so…confident, it’s all unraveling me deep inside and it feels…amazing! HE feels amazing. She reluctantly left his mouth, catching her breath.
Ben gasped with a smile and returned to her mouth, his tongue flirting along her lips. Riley let him in, desperate to taste him again, desperate to prove how much she cared. His hands roamed up her back, pressing her into his chest as if he was afraid he would lose her to the neon circus beyond their embrace.
More! Oh, God, I want more! Riley melted into him; all her pretending, all her denial surrendered to her desire and their kiss. The roar of impatient taxis and the glare of glittering billboards faded away as two lost souls found their escape in one another.