by Vi Lily
My eyes widen at that. “It’s kinda amazing how someone could get that rich off a stupid game, but yeah, I could see it happening. They’re addicting.”
He shrugs. “I never have free time to play games.”
I ask him why that is and then we talk a bit about his schedule. I realize that his comment was an understatement — the guy is crazy busy. I’m surprised he found time to go out on a date.
“Why does your dad expect you to do all that?” I ask after he tells me that, in addition to all the sports he plays, plus maintains an A-average, he’s acting as equipment manager for both the soccer and the lacrosse teams, both of which his dad coaches.
Ben’s shoulders lift in another shrug. “I think he just wants to keep me outta trouble. Doesn’t want me going down the same road he did.”
The waitress comes with our food before I can respond. I lean back so she can place my plate in front of me and wince when she practically slams it down. Some of my salad actually falls off the plate onto the table.
I glance at her and she smirks at me, daring me to say something. Challenge accepted, bee-atch.
“You gotta problem with me?” I ask with raised brows.
I almost laugh at the way her eyes dart to Ben, like she’s mortified that I called her out. And she certainly looks embarrassed.
“Uh, no — “
Before she can make some lame excuse, Ben interrupts. “Maybe you oughta get Carmine to take over for you, Shay.”
His voice is rough-sounding and sends a shiver down my spine. It’s a tone of voice I would expect to hear coming from an adult, some tough-guy dude, not a high-schooler. It’s pretty startling.
But the most shocking thing is the way his face loses its beauty while he gives the woman a stony look. I cringe and almost feel sorry for Shay in that moment; I never want to be the recipient of that look from him myself.
“No!” Shay blurts out. “No, I’m sorry, I’m just, uh, clumsy. I’ll be careful,” she stammers, then she glances at me and gives me a smile that looks way too fake. I know if I gave her the chance she’d probably shank me with a butter knife to the kidney.
Ben glares at her until she walks off, then looks back at me. “Sorry,” he mutters. “If she’d been a dude, I woulda dropped her right here for that crap. But I’ll be sure and tell Glen about it.”
I’m pretty warmed by the fact that he’d be willing to “drop” some guy just for being an jerk to me, but I shake my head as I cut into my lasagna. It smells delicious and I shove off the slight fear that she might have done something to it. I doubt she’d be that bold, considering food tampering means instant firing in any restaurant. And depending on what they do to it, jail time.
“Nah, don’t bother. She didn’t really do anything. I just don’t like being messed with. I’m probably too sensitive.”
It’s not true; I’m actually not that sensitive at all, and I did just tell him I don’t bet “boo-boo’d” over stuff. But if taking the blame and a little humiliation keeps the woman from getting fired, especially after Ben told me she had two kids, it’s worth it.
I know the truth; that’s all that matters.
The past week at Athole has proven I’m not “too sensitive,” considering I’ve ignored a lot of the snobbery I experienced, being called such fun things as “mansion trash” and “trailer park transplant.” I just rolled with the punches while rolling my eyes.
But I’m not going to put up with jerks messing with me either. While most everyone else was pretty lame with their attacks, Raine was making it her personal mission to ensure I “knew my place.” She’s made “looking down one’s nose” an art form and has an uncanny way of making me feel like a bug under a microscope… one that was going to be squashed after inspection.
Every freaking time I’ve run into Raine and her bunch of clones that I’ve started calling “the clouds,” she’s made some really bitchy comment about me to her friends, causing them to either glare at me, or laugh.
And every time, I flipped them off when I’d really like to throat punch them.
After dinner, we go back to my house to watch a movie. I had told Ben about the cool surround sound mini-theater we have and he’s anxious to see it. Bearing doesn’t have a movie theater and he said it had been a few years since he’d seen a movie “on a big screen.”
It’s nice being able to tell him about the stuff we have without worrying that I’m somehow bragging, or, worse, rubbing it in his face. He knows we come from lower middle-class, although that might have been a stretch, honestly. I would say we were more like upper lower.
So, whenever I tell him about something I really like about the “new life” we’re living, I don’t feel like I have to hold back on the enthusiasm like I do with Sheila or any of my other Cali friends, who seem to be jealous that I escaped the upper lower while they’re still stuck there. Ben even laughs at my excitement and he told me it was like “watching a kid at Christmas” when I described some of the things I was experiencing.
It feels like that too.
We watch some lame action movie and Ben falls asleep half-way through. I feel bad about waking him, especially when I have to shake him several times. Poor guy probably doesn’t get much sleep with his crazy schedule.
We walk to the door holding hands. He’s sorta touchy-feely, which I’ve never liked. I have some pretty strict personal boundaries, but with Ben I have to admit I really like his hands on me.
“Thanks again for dinner,” I smile up at him. “You didn’t have to pay, you know.” We had a bit of a fight at the restaurant over the check.
Ben shrugs. “I’m old-school that way. If I invite, I pay.” He grins at me. “If you want to pay next time, then you have to ask me out.”
I laugh. “Deal.” I continue smiling up at him, thinking how amazing he is. I’ve really never met anyone like him.
Something in the way I’m looking at him must trigger some unnamed emotion, because his expression changes, and his eyes soften. I know then that he’s going to kiss me.
I think the first kiss must always be nerve wracking. I mean, is there anyone who’s ever kissed someone for the first time who didn’t have doubts, fears, whatever? At that moment, when Ben leans over and I know the inevitable was coming, while I’m excited to kiss him, I also worry I have garlic breath.
But then I figure he probably does too and hopefully we’ll cancel each other’s mouth b.o. out.
I know right away the kiss is going to go bad, even before his soft mouth touches mine. Not because he sucks at kissing, or because I do, but because he’s a freaking giant and I’m… well, hell, I’m a pixie.
The height difference doesn’t stop him, though. He’s practically bent in half and I’m up on my toes when our lips meet. I throw my arms around his neck and he wraps his around my body and helps support my weight.
Our kiss starts out like any first kiss should — tentative, tender, slow, two sets of lips getting to know each other. But at the first touch of our tongues, it turns hot. Steamy. Drool-worthy.
Okay, maybe “drool-worthy” isn’t the best description to use for kissing, because gross. I had a boyfriend at my old school who didn’t last long with me because his kisses were the equivalent of getting loved on by a Golden Retriever… after he drank a big bowl of water. Although the dog’s kisses probably would have been better than Rudy’s slobbering efforts.
Yuck.
Ben’s arms tighten then, shaking me out of my thoughts. He pulls me right off my feet as we continue counting each other’s teeth. Man, the guy sure can kiss. I wonder how much practice he’s had. And of course, I worry because I haven’t had that much.
I know it’s lame for an almost-eighteen-year-old to still be a virgin, but honestly, none of the guys interested me that much at my old school. Other than Matt Chavez, who was That Guy back in Cali, I didn’t really find any of them hot enough to give my V-card to. And Matt was going out with Desiree White, so he had been off the market.
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nbsp; As Ben deepens the kiss, he lowers me to the floor again, then slides his hands under my butt and lifts me completely off the floor. I immediately hook my legs around his waist as he backs against the front door.
It’s probably a good thing that he has both his hands full of my butt cheeks, because my inner hootchie is really wanting him to yank my clothes off. It’s shocking to realize that, while I barely know the guy, I would gladly throw my V-card at him, right here in the foyer of my house. With my parents upstairs. Well, my mom for sure. Dad is probably still missing.
“Oh!” My mom’s surprised squeal has us quickly breaking the lip lock and Ben immediately drops me on the floor, then grabs my arms when I almost fall. I’m already off-balance, so that makes me fall forward and I put my hands on his chest.
I can feel how much he liked our kiss poking me in the upper stomach.
“Sorry,” he mutters, and I glance up at him. His red face probably matches mine. I give him a wide-eyed look, my eyes saying Oh my gawwwd!
“Uh, I was just going, Mrs. Hanson,” Ben says, his voice even huskier than normal, as he releases me and quickly opens the door. Pretty sure he doesn’t want my mom seeing how much he enjoyed our kiss.
“Be careful driving home, Ben,” my mom calls, way too sweetly if you ask me. I glance back at her as Ben waves and steps out. She’s standing at the foot of the stairs in her robe and slippers, with her arms crossed under her breasts.
“See ya later, Tink,” Ben winks at me from the front porch.
“Laters,” I say as I close the door, then turn to my mom. She cocks an eyebrow at me, totally judging me, like I just threw myself at poor, sweet, defenseless six-foot-three Ben. Whatever. I tell her goodnight and make my way upstairs to my bedroom.
I barely make it in the door when my phone chimes.
Ben: damn that was cringey
I laugh as I answer.
Me: i know, right?
Ben: is she mad?
Me: nah don’t think so
Ben: thank god. Thought i’d blown it for sure
Me: well it takes 2 to swap spit, so…
Ben: lmao yeah, but that was outta control. Couldn’t help myself tho
That makes me grin.
Me: guess what? Me either. You’re a seriously good kisser
Ben: you too. Damn, would like some more of that
Me: play your cards right and you might get it
Eek. I know that sounds like more than I meant it to sound like. I’m hoping he doesn’t think he’s going to get “it,” not yet anyway. I mean, seriously, we just had a first date. Thankfully, he doesn’t comment on it and instead, we make plans to study together Sunday afternoon.
Ben asks if we can study at my house, making some lame excuse that makes me wonder why he doesn’t want me at his place. I wish he would have told me the real reason.
Then maybe my life wouldn’t have gotten turned upside down.
Chapter 4
I KNOW I’m not a math maven, but seriously, that’s not how you find where the tangent is horizontal!” I laugh.
“I honestly can’t believe you just used the term ‘math maven’. Again, I ask, what century are you from?’’ Ben asks with a grin.
After our first date, we settled into a friendly, easy relationship. While we had a lot “more of that,” other than a little groping, we’ve never gone past kissing.
Yet.
I figure that it was just a matter of time before we hit that milestone. I definitely want to when the time is right, because I’ve decided Ben is the one getting my V-card. I even went the doctor to get on birth control, just so I’ll be ready in every way.
But it’s been a month and a half since we started going out and I’m still a virgin.
Not that I’m complaining, really. We’re having fun, with or without sex. Ben and I go out at least once a week. We once drove to Stevens, the closest town with a movie theater, to see a new action movie. We went ice skating — which was more me falling and Ben trying to catch me, but laughing too hard — and he even took me ice fishing, which constituted sitting inside a little hut on a frozen lake and drinking hot chocolate while waiting for a trout to take a bite out of the stinky salmon eggs we’d strung on a hook.
For my birthday/Valentine’s Day, Ben took me back to Glen’s restaurant, surprising me with a small party that they closed the restaurant for. My family was there, as well as Glen’s — who turned out to be married with two kids — and a few friends I’d made at school. Aleen, for one, and Becca, a girl going out with one of Ben’s lacrosse teammates, plus a few of the guys Ben was close to that we sat with for lunch every day.
I even had my very first actual birthday cake with not a freaking heart anywhere to be seen, made out of chocolate with chocolate frosting and fudge filling — can’t have too much of the dark, sweet heavenly stuff — with Jergen’s Ice Creamery Sneaky Turtles ice cream, which I was seriously shocked to see. Jergen’s is in a town even smaller than ours about an hour away, but our family had gone there once when we’d first moved and I fell in love with their ice cream and had mentioned it to Ben. Once.
Ben is amazing, let me tell you. He pays attention to everything I say — like mentioning I adore chocolate, that I would bathe in the stuff if I wouldn’t come out of the tub a sticky mess — and he tries hard to make sure to get me things I’ll like and that I’m always comfortable, safe, happy.
Athole Academy has been a lot better than I thought it would, thanks to Ben. So far, we’ve had a lot of fun.
He insists on driving Rod and me to school, especially when the weather is bad or threatening to be bad, which, I discovered, is like every day during New England winters. I really appreciate his chauffeuring us. I think Rod appreciates it, too, since he gets to sit with Gwen in the back. I know my little brother is crushing on her, but the girl is seriously shy.
I’m always in awe of how Ben handles his Jeep in the snow and ice. I’m still not used to the white stuff and black ice freaks me out. Thankfully, I haven’t experienced driving on it yet.
Ben and I have even started doing our homework together at least three times a week. Always at my house. In fact, I’ve never even been to his house. I finally asked him about that.
He’d grimaced at the question. “My dad is…” His voice trailed off, and I expected him to say “My dad is an alcoholic,” or “My dad is abusive,” or something along those lines. What he did tell me made me frown.
“My dad’s kinda pervy, I guess,” he said as his dark skin took on a red hue. “I would just rather keep you away from him.”
Okayyy… that really wasn’t what I was expecting to hear, especially regarding a teacher at a high school. I figured it was a good thing the guy was the coach of boys’ teams.
“He’s also, uh, well, seriously good-looking.” He’d shrugged. “At least, that’s what all the girls say. They all think he’s hot. More than one of my girlfriends have thrown themselves at him.”
My eyes had bugged at that. I mean, yeah, I’d seen Coach Penn around campus and he was seriously good-looking, for an oldish dude. But the idea that some chick would do that to her boyfriend, then knowing that several girlfriends had done that to Ben, the Polynesian god of hotness, plus the fact that he was obviously worried that I might throw myself at his dad… it sort of pissed me off.
I wonder if Ben had taken things as slowly with his other girlfriends as he was with me and had to ignore the way my chest constricted at the thought of him being with anyone else. But, if he moved that slow, taking a month or longer to make a move on them, maybe they’d decided to move on to the next best thing with his dad.
Which is seriously gross if you ask me.
I’d wait a lifetime for Ben to make his move before I hit on his dad. Just the thought of it makes me throw up in my mouth a little.
While I know that I could make the first move with Ben, I’m honestly not quite “there” with my confidence, especially when pitted against the aforementioned god. Plus, mayb
e he just isn’t into me. I mean, I’m not egotistical enough to think that I’m all that. I know people think I’m pretty, or cute or whatever, but maybe Ben doesn’t like chicks whose pale looks rival Viking vampires with a bad case of anemia.
He probably likes girls who look like Raine, with her thick chestnut hair, bright blue eyes and skin that doesn’t look like it would turn to ash when the sun hits it. Plus, Raine has the figure that every girl envies — tall, slim curves in all the right places and perfectly perky boobs that I’m pretty sure are the result of a trip to a hospital.
And while I’m not that curvy, my boobs may not be perfectly perky, but are more perfectly quirky… like one is almost a full cup larger than the other. Then there’s the fact that I’m fun-sized. If it weren’t for the quirky boobs, I’m pretty sure I’d get mistaken for a little kid most of the time.
But I know Ben doesn’t like Raine’s bitchy personality. He’s called her out on it whenever he’s been with me and heard some of her jerk comments. Plus, he told me that they’d gone out Freshman year and he’d decided then that she definitely wasn’t worth the effort.
And then there are those heart-stopping, panty-dropping kisses we share. And I definitely have felt just how much he is interested pressed up against me during those kisses.
“You wanna come watch my lacrosse practice tomorrow?” Ben asks, interrupting my thoughts.
I know my face is red as I look up from my math homework and hope he doesn’t notice. I shrugged. “Yeah,” I say as I grabbed a handful of the caramel corn I’d made earlier. Ben loves to watch me in the kitchen; he says he had no idea you could make things like caramel corn and cheese crackers yourself.
“I’ve never seen lacrosse before,” I continue after I swallow.
He grabs a handful of popcorn himself. “I’ll tell Gwen to have you sit with her; she can explain it to you.”
My mom comes out of the den then. “Are you making dinner, or should I?” she asks.
I side-eye Ben when he softly snorts and turns to focus really hard on his own math. I can see his mouth twitching and I elbow him slightly.
