Craving Forbidden (Craving Series Book 8)

by Crave Publishing

  Did he just call me hot? That was maybe the first time he’d ever commented on my looks. I resented that my anger began to subside. I wanted to hold on to this anger that I’d had for so long.

  “So you couldn’t be my friend because your girlfriend—who, I might add, isn’t here tonight, so how did that work out for you—because she had issues? I called you repeatedly. I almost became a stalker trying to get ahold of you. I thought I did something wrong. I thought I made you mad, or hurt you, and it killed me. For a decade I have wondered how I wronged you. You could have told me that you, that she, needed space. I would have respected that.” Tears were threatening to spill from my eyes.

  “I was immature. I didn’t know how to handle the situation.”

  My eyes quickly darted to his left hand, which was currently playing with the condensation on his glass. He held his left hand up for me to see that there was no ring on his finger. Apparently, my glance hadn’t been so subtle. He gave me a sad smile.

  “No. I became a surly jerk after I ghosted on you, and I eventually broke up with Chrissy.”

  “So why not tell me all of this?”

  “I was an ass. I swear, I wanted to so many times. I couldn’t bring myself to call you.” Benji lowered his eyes to my wheelchair. “Now I feel even worse.”

  “No. No!” If my legs worked, I would have jumped up and dumped my beer in his lap. Even from my seated position, I was tempted to do that. “You don’t get to feel pity about my accident. You don’t get to feel bad. You chose to not be in my life. And guess what, I’ve managed without you just fine.”

  That was a lie. There were so many times over the last decade that I wished he’d been around. When I lost the use of my legs, I’d wished he was there to comfort me. Benji would have made dumb wheelchair jokes and laid in my hospital bed with me watching terrible television. But, without him, I learned how strong I was and that I didn’t need him.

  “I just wish you would have told me.” Benji’s eyes were soft now as he looked at me. All of the anger left, now replaced by regret.

  “And I wish you would have told me about Chrissy.” I felt the muscles in my neck relax. What if I had called him after I became paralyzed? We could have hashed it all out years ago and moved on with our lives. I could have reached out to him again, but I had fed my anger and resentment toward him. Now I just felt sad. And I realized how much I had missed being around this man.

  “That’s what we call a breakthrough,” Robbie said.

  “I’ll cheers to that.” Jill lifted her drink in the air.

  The next hour at the bar passed quickly, considering the weight from the anger transformed into an even heavier sense of sadness labeled ‘missed opportunities.’ It was still awkward with Benji. But at the same time, it was as if I had seen him the day before. He had the same dry sense of humor. Benji was now in real estate, something I never would have guessed for him. He’d always been so into music that I thought he’d be in a band or producing or managing. Something music related. There was nothing wrong with real estate, but it didn’t seem to fit him. A guy named Benji should be strumming a guitar making girls squeal, not showing moderately priced condos in beach adjacent communities. It seemed like someone had given him a career book and he absentmindedly flipped to the ‘real estate agent’ page and decided to just go with it. Although, given his goofy sense of humor, it wouldn’t surprise me if that’s exactly how he ended up in the business.

  “Let’s go play pool.” Benji was seated next to me at the table.

  He leaned close to me as he spoke, which made me feel tense in a way that said I used to have a crush on you, but then you were a jerk and I hated you until about point two seconds ago and now my body is confused and my panties are wet just looking at you.

  Robbie and Jill had really hit it off. He currently had his arm on the back of her chair. She faced him, playing with the sleeve of his shirt as she spoke to him.

  “Wait, can you play?” Robbie asked as I started to leave the table.

  “Of course I can play pool! Don’t you remember that I was practically a shark back in the day?”

  “I meant in your, uh, your current situation.” His gaze once again fell on my wheelchair.

  “Yes, Benji. I’m still able to play pool. My legs don’t work, but the rest of me is fine.” The last part had been like a mantra on repeat to people since I became paralyzed. Some people didn’t know how to treat me and were amazed when I said I could do normal things like drive or work. I didn’t fault Benji for being new to the wheelchair territory, just like I didn’t fault anyone else. Well, anyone other than the perverts who felt it was perfectly acceptable to ask me during a first date if I could still have sex. One guy actually used that as a pickup line in a bar. He did get a drink thrown on his lap.

  “So you’re saying you’re still a shark?”

  “Do you want to find out? Loser buys the next round.” I rolled away from the table, letting Benji trail behind me.

  A classier bar would use the large separate room toward the back to hold private parties. Turn it into a plush lounge with table service. Pete’s was decorated with cheap wood paneling and held his pair of matching, scuffed pool tables that had seen better days decades ago. Stained glass fixtures bearing the name of cheap beer companies were hung over the tables, providing the only light in the dim room. As we entered, I glanced back over my shoulder at the waitress, who watched us as we left. I couldn’t tell if she was relieved there would be no thrown glass or if she was upset that our leaving Robbie and Jill meant her shot at the only two good-looking men was dwindling.

  I grabbed a cue from the wall and chalked the tip. “You rack, I’ll break.”

  “Oh, you’ve just decided that?” Benji’s laugh was still the same.

  “I think you owe me that much.”

  “Fair enough.” Benji leaned over the table as he racked the balls. He bowed when he finished. “Madam.”

  “Kind sir,” I said as I lined up my shot. The seated position gave me a better vantage than if I had to bend over. I missed the days when I could lean over the table and wiggle my cute butt in the face of a good-looking guy, but I had to admit that the seated position helped my shot and cut down on the number of creeps who checked me out. My life was all about pros and cons. And as winning this current game was my sole focus, I appreciated these particular pros.

  The break landed two striped balls in the corner pocket. My next shot did not sink any balls, but it did bury the cue ball, so I considered that a good shot and winked at him for good measure.

  “Impressive, kid.”

  Benji stood behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder as he studied the table. I fought the natural urge to shrug it off as I reminded myself that I wasn’t angry at him anymore. Maybe there were still some unresolved emotions that I had to work through, but I could do that later. For now, we were being friendly, almost flirty, and it felt nice. I didn’t plan on seeing him ever again, so I decided that I may as well enjoy this one night of being around my old friend.

  “Lucky shot,” I said as he somehow managed to sink the yellow ball.

  “Don’t be a sore loser.”

  “Game isn’t over yet.” My voice was a challenge. His smile was an answer.

  The waitress appeared in the room balancing a black tray in her hands. “Your friends sent me back here with these.”

  She set two shots and two beers on one of the lower tables as Benji was bent over, his back to her, attempting a trick shot to land the purple four ball in the right side pocket. I followed the waitress’s gaze to Benji’s bent over form. She gave me a thumbs up as she turned to leave the room. I couldn’t contain my laugh as I nodded my approval. The man was immature, but he had learned to fill out a pair of jeans.

  “Did I miss something?”

  “It was nothing worth noticing. Girl talk.” I shrugged as I laughed some more.

  “Glad to see you’re still super weird.”

  “Yeah, I thought about o
utgrowing that, but I kind of like it.”

  “Weird always worked for you. What do we have here?” Benji picked up the shot glasses, holding one out to me. “Cheers.”

  Our fingers brushed as I took it from him. “Thanks. Cheers,” I said without meeting his eye.

  “It’s bad luck to not make eye contact with a person when you’re cheersing.”

  I raised my gaze to his face and was surprised his eyes didn’t seem to have the same hard anger in them anymore. “Cheers.”

  The liquid didn’t burn as much as I thought it would as it went down my throat, but I quickly sipped on the beer just to make sure.

  “Whiskey.” Benji shivered as the word came out of his mouth. He guzzled his beer until half of the liquid was gone. Apparently taking shots was something I was better at than him.

  “When did you start drinking?”

  “Don’t make fun of me.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “I’m not. Serious question. Back when I knew you, I didn’t drink.”

  “Oh, right. I don’t really drink that much. Only when I’m having a blast in fancy places.”

  I couldn’t stop the snort laugh even though I tried. At least he was having about as much fun as I was.

  “Did you snort? I really thought you would have outgrown that.” He laughed. Not a fake, forced laugh, but the natural laugh I remembered so well. We could still make each other laugh.

  I felt my shoulders relax for the first time since I saw him that night and didn’t know if I had the alcohol to thank or if it was just sheer exhaustion. Staying angry was taking way too much effort and I just didn’t want to try anymore. I knew that I could have just left, but part of me wanted to stick around. Being around him brought up some fun memories along with the painful ones.

  “Remember when we ate an entire bottle of ketchup at that burger joint?” I don’t know why that was the first memory that popped into my brain or came out of my mouth.

  Ben’s laugh echoed off the walls. “Oh my God! I forgot about that. We were sick for days after. And I don’t think I wanted ketchup for like six months.”

  “The waitress thought we were insane.” I rolled over to the table to take my shot, not really paying attention as I lined it up, but somehow landing the thirteen ball in a pocket.

  “We were insane. But we had some good times.”

  “Awesome times.” My voice sounded more wistful that it should have, but I didn’t bother trying to hide it. I had missed him.

  ACDC came through the speakers on the wall. Benji’s laughter rang out in the air between us. “Dunder chief! Remember when that’s what you thought they were saying?”

  “Well, is it my fault that the lyrics were unclear? They could stand to enunciate a little more. I mean, it really doesn’t sound like done dirt cheap.” I took a swig from my beer to hide the fact that I was smiling at that memory.

  “Yes, it definitely sounds like the actual lyrics of the song!”

  I playfully swung at his stomach. He caught my fist and held it for a second. I was shocked at the heat that ran through my body. I hated this guy. He broke me ten years ago. I shouldn’t have anything in me other than anger. My panties definitely shouldn’t get moist with the slightest touch from him.

  We continued with the game, making small talk about our families. He asked about my older brother. I asked about his parents. We were being friendly, polite even, which I didn’t know was a good thing or not. We went back and forth taking turns until I had no more balls on the table and he had one left. The cue ball was lined up with the eight ball in an easy shot. I actually thought about missing on purpose as a peace offering. Or was I just trying to prolong our game? Benji bent over behind the pocket making faces at me in a simple attempt to distract my shot. I knew I had to make it. And with one quick thrust, I sent the cue ball into the eight ball, which slid easily into the pocket.

  “Good game.” Benji came around to give me a high five.

  “I think you owe me a drink now?” I raised my hand to meet his. His palm was warm against mine, and his fingers wrapped around my hand. He gave a little shake before releasing me.

  “I think I can arrange that. Though, you know you cheated, right?”

  “What? How?” My voice raised a few octaves.

  “The rules strictly call for at least one foot on the floor at all times, and you didn’t do that once.”

  There he was: my friend who could make a dumb joke that would offend some people, but which made me laugh hysterically. For the first time that night, Benji appeared just as I remembered him. Lighthearted. Fun. Devastatingly handsome.

  “You’re an ass,” I said through my laughter.

  “I probably owe you two drinks for that. Want to play again?”

  “How about darts? You should have a fighting chance of winning a different game. Maybe our friends want to join?”

  Benji turned, sticking his head out the door. “I think they’re busy.”

  I moved to look through the door. Robbie and Jill were in the middle of a heavy make-out session right in the middle of the bar. “I think we failed as chaperones. I guess they don’t need us to stick around. Maybe I’ll take off.”

  “Are you afraid to lose at darts?” Benji raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m not afraid of anything.”

  “I remember that about you. I’m going to get us another round. You go get set up to be defeated.” Benji left toward the bar before I could protest.

  I downed the rest of my room temperature beer, barely gagging the warm liquid down. Was that number three? Four? The fact that I couldn’t remember made me extremely grateful that I hadn’t driven. I didn’t want to leave my car here and deal with retrieving it tomorrow. From the looks of things, I didn’t know if Jill would be around to drive me back to get it.

  The dartboard was located on the wall separating the bar from the pool annex. I sat in front of the board as Benji came over, placing two cold beers on a table.

  “May as well level the playing field.” He dragged a chair over next to me and sat down.

  I thought about protesting, telling him he didn’t need to handicap himself for me to keep up. I hated when people treated me differently, treated me with pity, or like I was special. But it was a nice gesture on his part, so I accepted it.

  “How about we bet truths on this one? For each bullseye, we get to ask the other person a question they have to answer truthfully.”

  “Interesting. I’m in. Winners first.”

  I threw my first dart, barely managing to keep it on the board. It was nowhere close to the middle. “Warm-up shot.”

  Benji threw his first dart with ease, landing square in the bullseye. “Okay. My question. Why didn’t you tell me you were paralyzed?”

  “I thought about you and wanted to, actually. But we hadn’t spoken in years. How would that conversation go? I didn’t even know if you’d care or if you’d answer the phone. I couldn’t take that rejection again on top of everything else I was dealing with.”

  “I would have answered. I would have cared. I do care.” Benji’s eyes softened completely. “How did it happen?”

  “Sorry, Benji, you already got your question. My turn.” I threw my next dart, this time not making it onto the board at all. “Apparently I suck at darts. Too late to go back to pool?”

  Benji grabbed a dart, throwing it rather than answering my question. He made another bullseye. “How did it happen?”

  “I was coming home from a party and I was hit by a drunk driver who blew through a red light. Not uncommon. But I promise that I’m okay. I live alone, work, drive. I’m super independent. Stubbornly independent.” I gave a weak laugh and noncommittal shrug. I had told the story so many times over seven years that it was almost a memorized routine. This telling hit a little closer to home, though.

  “Jesus! I can’t believe what you must have gone through. You’re so strong.”

  “I just did what any other person would have done. Wh
at other option did I have? Just give up on life?”

  Benji turned to face me, his eyes boring holes into the side of my head. I couldn’t look at him.

  “It doesn’t bother you being at a bar?”

  “Nah, it’s okay. I’m obviously very anti-drunk driving, but I’m still me. I’m still a normal person. Just, you know, shorter and seated all the time.”

  “Shit.” Benji shook his head. He was clearly struggling to process everything.

  I took a dart and threw it, already knowing it wouldn’t land in the center. And of course, it did not. Luckily for me, Benji missed his next several shots too. It was beginning to feel like an interrogation, so I appreciated the reprieve, even though the truth game had been my idea. After three missed shots, Benji threw a bullseye.

  “Did you say that?” Benji turned to face me again.

  “Say what?” I knew what he was asking but wanted to buy a few more seconds. I took a long pull of my beer to fortify myself with liquid courage.

  “Did you say you had a crush on me?”

  “Yes.” I quickly raised my beer to my lips again as I wondered if he could tell that my hand was shaking. After ten years, I had finally voiced it.

  “Did you mean it?”

  “You already asked your question,” I said quietly.

  Benji picked up a dart, throwing it easily to the center of the board. My mind was blown at how good he was at darts. Why was he not a record holder somewhere?

  “Did you mean it?” he asked again as he stared at me.

  I turned in my chair to face him. His eyes were unblinking. His face serious. I chewed the inside of my lip for a second as I thought about what I wanted to say. There was so much inside of me dying to get out.

  “Yes.”

  Neither of us moved for a few seconds. He was thinking, but I had no clue what about.

  “Well, shit.” His statement did not help me figure out what he was thinking.

  “My turn.” I missed.

  Benji did not miss. Was he cheating? “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “What would I have said, Benji? It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. We would be in this same position no matter what.”