Fifteen

Ben eyeballed the shops along St. Mark’s Place. This place looks like Camden High Street on a bender. Great for going out on the lash, but… He scrunched his nose. “Hope, this is your street?”

“Think I can’t handle myself?”

“I bet you can, it’s just…” If you were mine, I wouldn’t want you to. “Really grungy.”

Across the way, a disheveled old man in a torn coat rummaged in a recycling bin.

“Murray!” Riley hollered. The scraggly guy peered over the pile of bottles and waved a dirty hand. “You hungry?” She ran across the road, giving him the box containing half her wrap.

Did she just…? Wow.

Riley said good night and skipped back to Ben.

“That was your lunch and you…”

She shrugged. “Murray’s a great guy. Piper and I make him sandwiches whenever we can. You should hear his stories about this neighborhood back in the day.” She pointed at the bright yellow awning. “I live here.”

Funky Town? Ben broke out into a huge grin and laughed through his words. “Oh. My God. You’ve got to be kidding. That song!”

“I know!” She stuck her key in the lock, shimmying back and forth while singing. “Funky Towwwwn! Shrek 2 is hilarious.”

“I’ve never seen Shrek.” Ben’s eyes tailed a taxi zooming past

“You’ve never seen Shrek?”

He shook his head.

“What kind of depraved childhood did you have?” She waved him inside.

“I didn’t really watch cartoons.”

“What kid doesn’t like cartoons? Are you for real?” She yanked open the stairway door. “If you haven’t seen the movie, how do you know that song?”

“Ah, I have my ways.”

They ran up the stairs and entered Riley’s room, a wave of heat surging forward.

Woah. “Who turned on the sauna?” Ben took off his cap and fanned his face.

She tugged off her ankle boots and rushed over to the window, hoisting it open with a groan. “The heating needs to be fixed.”

Ben removed his shoes and coat then yanked his hoodie over his head, sending hair tufts reaching for the ceiling. Dropping the two layers on the loveseat, he bent slightly, eyeing a bunch of library books scattered over the cushions. What’s she got here? The Art of Racing in the Rain, A Woman of Independent Means, 84 Charing Cross Road… His fingers briefly tugged on a thin leather bracelet knotted on his right wrist.

Riley adjusted the curtain so no one could see in from the building across the street. “I’ll leave it open, but if you get cold—” Shaking off her jacket, Riley turned around. Ben was reading the books’ spines and flapping the bottom hem of his Police t-shirt, trying to cool down. He looked up, catching her raised eyebrows.

“Oh, don’t worry.” He straightened his posture, a cheeky grin brightening his face. “Nothing else is coming off. This stripper has hung up his G-string for good.”

Riley bit her cheek, avoiding his eyes and diving for the mess on the cushions.

Aw, she’s blushing! Cute! Let’s see if I can make it worse. The smile fell from his face. “Actually, I’m disappointed. My final dance was supposed to be performed…completely starkers.”

“Starkers?”

“Naked.”

Riley juggled the books in her arms. “OH!”

His intense expression cracked. “Your face! Back of the net!”

“Yeah, yeah!” She smirked and squeezed around him. “Very funny!”

“Well, I thought so!” He laughed, smoothing down his t-shirt as he surveyed her place. On top of her drawers, a colorful collection of candy dispensers standing to attention drew a smile. “PEZ fan, eh?” He picked up a Snoopy.

“Um…” Her cheeks gave away her embarrassment—again. “When I was a kid, yeah. I’m not sure why I still have them…”

“You’re nostalgic—nothing wrong with that.” Taking in his surroundings, Ben flicked Snoopy’s chin up and down and returned him to his perch. “You’ve made great use of space.”

“Thanks. I can’t afford anything bigger.” She piled the books underneath her clothing rack, her eyes catching the red and white pattern on his green socks—candy canes. She stood up and bumped into him. “Um, sorry.”

But Ben was distracted. “Riley…there’s a…spider.” He pointed a shaky finger at the wall.

“Eww!” She did a double take—Ben was pale and wide-eyed. “You’re more freaked out than I am!”

“Spiders give me the willies.”

“Well, I’m not killing Charlotte. It’s bad luck!”

“But…how will you sleep…knowing it’s…” Ben gulped and bent over, pulling a tissue from a box on the milk crate. “Don’t… move.” His hand flew at the wall and he scrunched the tissue quickly. “Oh, FUCK. It’s wriggling!” He leapt to the open window and set Charlotte and the tissue free.

“My hero!” She teased. A dark blue design on Ben’s inner arm drew her curiosity. “Hey, what’s that?”

Ben’s face relaxed. “My tattoo? He’s from Pac-Man, a frightened ghost.” He stretched out his arm, showing off the character, which was a little bit larger than a quarter. The top of its head was rounded with pink dot eyes and a squiggly frowning mouth, and its feet were three undulating waves.

“Pac-Man? You a gamer?”

“Not really. The café near school had a beat-up machine, and I’d play for ages. I always felt an affinity with the frightened ghosts, aimlessly wandering…” He chuckled. “Do you have ink?”

“No. I can never decide what to get.”

“Hey, nothing worse than tattoo regret.” His smile dissolved into an eye-crinkling yawn. She probably wants to change, but with me here… “Where’s the toilet?”

“Oh, bathroom’s down the hall. It’s shared—hopefully you won’t walk in on someone having sex in the shower.”

“Hopefully not! Uh, you wouldn’t have a spare toothbrush, would you? I know I’m British and people joke we have bad teeth, but I always brush before bed.”

“Let me see.” She pulled out a box from underneath her clothing rail and lifted its lid, the cardboard packed with toiletries, including an unopened toothbrush. “You’re in luck.” She handed it over with a new tube of paste.

“Cheers, Riley.”

“I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

Five hours ago, I thought I’d never see her again. Now, I’m sleeping over. With a smile, he slipped through the door.

• • •

Riley quickly changed into an NYU tee and a pair of shorts, catching Josh smirking from a photo taped to her wall. What? It’s not like you don’t have female friends. She brushed her teeth at the sink and was hanging up a damp facecloth when a knock behind her head made her jump. “It’s cool, come in.”

Ben squeezed through the opening, careful not to hit Riley with the edge of the door. “Cheers.” His fresh minty breath punctuated his gratitude.

“I’ll just…” Riley pulled a fuzzy blanket from a storage box and snuck past to the loveseat.

“I’m so knackered, I could kip on a bed of nails.” Ben followed, leaving the toothpaste tube on top of the box.

“Ahh, sorry—sold that on eBay last week.”

Straightening up, Ben copped an eyeful of Riley’s ass as she bent over.

“You’ll have to make do with this.” She unfurled the blanket on the loveseat.

“Um…looks great to me…” A nervous laugh broke through his lips as he backed away, inching toward the open window. He nudged the curtain and leaned sideways on the sill, ogling a vintage car parked outside. The frosty air prickled his warm skin, sending his hand on a mission, climbing…climbing underneath his thin t-shirt. The more he burrowed and clawed at his chest, the farther his threadbare tee crept up his stomach. “Christ! So itchy.” His other hand squeezed his toothbrush, absentmindedly spinning it round and round.

Riley looked over her shoulder, catching a fleeting glimpse of letters spelling FCUK on the underwear band poking above his low-rise jeans. A breath caught in her throat, her eyes tracing over those four letters again. Err, who’s dyslexic now? Guilt warming her cheeks, she expected to be caught out, but her below-the-belt peek remained a secret. Ben’s attention was out the window, but his hand mindlessly skipped downward. The movement drew her eyes back down his chest and taut abs to hover below his navel where his hand stopped. Do you know how hot you are? Why don’t you have a girlfriend? She pulled her gaze away. Riley! STOP THINKING ABOUT BEN LIKE THIS!

Watching the street below, Ben winced, his thumb tracing where there had previously been a trail of hair disappearing into his underwear. “I have stubble where no bloke should ever have stubble. Not shaving there again.”

Ben, can you NOT…! Riley gulped and kneeled down, smoothing the throw’s velvety softness, its warmth slipping through her fingers as her mind scrambled to reel in her thoughts—thoughts that had stolen her breath back at the club when she realized the good-looking guy with the wild dark hair stumbling on stage was Ben. Luggage-thieving, five-layer-wearing, cheeky Ben…stripping?! Half-naked! Owner of strong shoulders, a defined back, sculpted pecs, and a narrow waist—lean like a swimmer’s physique—who knew? He was beautiful, sexy, her physical ideal—and those adorkable dance moves? Ready to share, his open, toned arms an invitation…to explore that body.

Her mind shuffled, replaying the brief moment she’d felt his skin against hers, wrapped in an unexpected dance floor embrace. She had felt uneasy at first. Am I being unfaithful? But Ben’s behavior had been respectful, self-aware, not presumptuous or handsy like Hunter was with Leia. No, Ben had waited for a sign—a smile, a nod—before tripping the light fantastic with her. He was a gentleman, not at all what she had expected. He’s cute and courteous. I bet he’s been with a lot of women. Good looks and decency would attract girls like a Black Friday sale at Sephora. How many have peeled away all those layers: t-shirt, hoodie, jeans…sliding their hands, their lips along his ripped abs and slim hips while his mouth sucked and teased, his tongue sweeping over… A dizzying warmth began to throb between her legs. Fuck, he could cut my thighs with those cheekbones, the feel of stubble burn—

“Hope? Riley?”

She shook her head. “Oh! S-Sorry?”

“You okay there, starin’ off into space?” Ben’s hand skimmed the top of his underwear before pulling away, allowing his soft t-shirt to slip down, kissing his jeans. He snickered and tapped the toothbrush against his lips. “You mumbled something about stubble burn.”

A blush coaxed her cheeks into a slight smile as she pretended she wasn’t flustered. “Oh, yeah…uh, strippers…so much stubble, shaving their chests…”

“That’s not all they shave.”

Okay then. “Uh…you can keep that toothbrush.”

“Great!” He pointed it at the loveseat underneath her raised single bed. “So, off to Bedfordshire, then?”

Riley stacked cushions into a headrest and stood up. “Yep.”

“This means a lot.” He paused awkwardly, his arms lost, swaying by his sides like they needed a purpose. “Thanks, Riley…”

Is he going to hug me? I-I can’t… Riley busied her hands, clasping the ladder leading to her bed. “Well, night.” She climbed up and grabbed threadbare Puffin, hiding him under the duvet as she slipped underneath. She closed her eyes but knew sleep wouldn’t come easy.

The springs in the loveseat below groaned then grew quiet. A few minutes passed. Unsure if Ben’s tossing and turning was finished, Riley peeked over her bed’s edge, careful not to give herself away. Ben’s long legs and Christmas socks were hanging off the loveseat, but if he was uncomfortable, it didn’t sound like it. His breathing was restful, quiet. He IS still breathing, right? She hovered on the edge for another minute, listening to him sleep and then returned to her pillow, her mind swirling with the pinky swear she’d made with a hot guy over a California wrap and a vinegar-soaked burger.