Lace and Paint (True Colors Book 1)

by Ally Sky

  “Ben Storm?” he asks in a business-like manner. I look away so our eyes don’t accidentally meet and give away our previous acquaintance.

  “Here,” Ben raises a cold beer bottle.

  “Special delivery.” He approaches Ben and hands him two wooden boxes tied together with a ribbon.

  “For me?” Ben’s eyes are wide with surprise. My heart is beating like crazy, a million beats per minute. I’m dying to see if he’ll like it. What guy wouldn’t love such a present?

  “Yes.” The assistant smiles. “Have a good day.” He nods slightly before he leaves.

  All eyes are turned to Ben, as he opens the top, brown box, the bigger one of the two. He looks stunned.

  “I’ll be damned…” Ben says and shakes his head, a huge smile spreading across his face.

  He’s pleased…really pleased. I make a supreme effort not to smile my biggest smile, which is just bursting to come out.

  “Something good?” Danny asks him, as he takes a sip of his cold beer.

  “Montecristo,” Ben shows him the box.

  “What?”

  “Yeah.” Ben shrugs and smiles his amazing smile, which manages to melt me. I try to remain indifferent, but it excites me to see how much he likes my gift. He lifts the small box with the lighter and opens it. He picks up the lighter from its bed of red velvet and reads the inscription. If he had any doubts before, he will definitely know now whom it’s from.

  “Dying to get burned. By you.”

  He doesn’t stop smiling, nor does he take his eyes off the lighter. It’s obvious he’s not going to look at me. I try not to smile. One small smile will give me away. Give us away.

  “Who’s it from?” Danny grabs the lighter from Ben’s hand and reads the inscription. Ben shrugs, keeping up the pretense, and claims that he has no idea.

  “Looks like you have a secret admirer,” Danny smiles playfully.

  If he had any idea who it was, he wouldn’t be smiling like that.

  “Looks like it.” Ben continues to smile without giving me a single implicating look.

  “At least she has taste.” Danny gives the lighter back to Ben, who puts it back in the wooden box and closes it.

  “Bring her to supper sometime.” John smiles at Ben, completely unaware of the fact that he eats supper with Ben’s secret admirer almost every night.

  “We’ll see,” Ben answers awkwardly. He straightens his legs and puts the boxes on his knees. My heart is bursting with happiness. He loves his gift.

  “Well, it looks like Ben has arranged a men’s night for us,” Danny winks at Ben.

  “It seems that way,” Ben smiles at Danny. “The whiskey’s on you. And don’t be stingy. I’ll be spoiling you with Cuban cigars!”

  Danny passes me a beer. The beer is wonderfully cold. Everything is wonderful today on the grass in the park. My man looks happy, his hand resting on the wooden boxes, his fingers stroking them. And no one has any idea who the present is from. Only the two of us share the secret.

  “The break is over, you lazy mob!” one of the guys shouts out loudly, jumps to his feet, and everyone starts getting up. I’m pretty sure they would prefer to stay like this, lying on the grass doing nothing but drinking their cold beer.

  Ben gets up reluctantly. It seems as though he’s dallying, waiting for all the other men to leave. The boisterous group gets farther away from us and then it’s just the two of us. Ben leans over toward me and hands me the boxes. “Do you mind watching them for me?” he asks and smiles, his eyes shining.

  “No problem.” I stare into his eyes, my heart racing. As he hands me the wooden boxes, his fingers brush against mine, sending a tickling sensation up my arm.

  “We’ll still discuss this present. I know how much money you’ve spent on me,” he continues with a smile, and I’m not so sure he’s pleased about that.

  “It’s my money. Who’s asking you, anyway?” A huge grin appears on my face. He runs off and joins the loud group. John comes toward me with slow strides.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask in concern.

  “Yes, it’s my turn to sit out.” He sits down next to me, stretches his long legs, and looks at the wooden boxes I’m holding on my knees. I decide to take the opportunity to investigate a bit.

  “So,” I try to sound uninterested, “Ben has a secret admirer?”

  “Ben has a lot of secret admirers,” he smiles and looks straight ahead at the group of noisy men in front of us.

  What?

  “Really?” I carry on with my pretense. Ben has a lot of secret admirers? Well, I suppose that’s only logical, what with his good looks and his flirting.

  “Yeah.” John shrugs with no concern.

  “Doesn’t he want anything serious?” I ask before I have time to think whether I should be asking John such a suspicious question.

  “Probably not. At least not since Jenny.”

  Jenny! He wanted kids; she wanted to travel. I don’t like her.

  “Ben told me about her. She preferred to go to India,” I murmur. The thought of that girl makes me sick.

  “Yes, it really hurt him,” he says, staring at the scampering group.

  “Hurt?” I’m taken aback by his choice of words.

  “Yes, Ben was pretty crushed afterwards. I think since then he generally just pretends.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He doesn’t want to get hurt again and I don’t blame him.” A thousand hammers are hammering at my heart. Ben was hurt. That explains a lot. I look at the group of men on the grass, and at one amazing guy in particular with his broad shoulders and green eyes and I can’t help but wonder what happened and what it did to him.

  That night, Danny and John return home, extremely boisterous. I’m in my room and I can hear them laughing. I assume they’ve had a successful evening at Ben’s.

  My laptop is open and I’m checking Facebook. My chat box opens. Ben wants to talk.

  Ben Storm: You missed an excellent evening

  Talia Blum: A guys’ night out? Your hand inside my bra should’ve clarified that I don’t fit in that criteria.

  Ben Storm: Good point. I saved you a cigar

  Talia Blum: What am I supposed to do with it?

  Ben Storm: Don’t you like cigars?

  Talia Blum: I’ve never tried one.

  Ben Storm: You bought me Cuban cigars without understanding a thing about them?

  Talia Blum: The guy at the shop understood enough for both of us.

  Ben Storm: Look, I know how much those things cost. Don’t go overboard, ok?

  Talia Blum: Calm down. “Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.”

  As usual, I quote Freud.

  Talia Blum: And again, it’s my money. Who asked you, anyway?

  Ben Storm: Talia, I’ve had a lot to drink tonight and I may not be able control what comes out of my mouth. Don’t irritate me.

  He’s drunk? Now, that’s something I’d like to see…

  Talia Blum: I like your mouth

  Ben Storm: Are you starting?

  Talia Blum: I never stopped.

  Ben Storm: Thanks for the cigars and the lighter.

  Talia Blum: You’re welcome.

  Ben Storm: Why aren’t you asleep?

  I take a deep breath and stare at his simple question. Why aren’t I sleeping? Because my head is filled with thoughts of him. Sleep has eluded me in the past few days. I know myself well enough to understand what it means. My body is beginning to celebrate, and I don’t want to stop it.

  Talia Blum: I’m in bed.

  Ben Storm: Go to sleep.

  Talia Blum: You go to sleep. I have lots to do.

  Ben Storm: You’re so full of nonsense.

  Talia Blum: You love my nonsense.

  Ben Storm: True.

  Talia Blum: Come over here; we’ll do nonsense together. I can be fun

  And I’m dying to show you just how much.

  Ben Storm: You’re always fun, when you’re not being u
nbelievably irritating. And I’m not coming.

  Well, that’s what you think. But I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.

  Talia Blum: We’ll see…

  Ben Storm: Talia, I’m not coming, not tonight or any other night. We’ve discussed this.

  Actually, we’ve barely discussed it. He just mentioned he didn’t want a girlfriend. I’m beginning to collect pieces of information, trying to piece together his broken picture.

  Talia Blum: If it’s because of Danny, I can come to you

  Ben Storm: I think this ‘friend’ thing is getting out of control.

  Talia Blum: So log out.

  Ben Storm: What?

  Talia Blum: From Facebook. You can log out.

  Ben Storm: If you don’t want to talk, you can log out

  Talia Blum: Hey! No one kicks me off my Facebook!

  Ben Storm: Mark Zuckerberg on the other line begs to differ.

  Talia Blum: Mark Zuckerberg can kiss my ass.

  Ben Storm: I’ll tell him sometime. And you’re avoiding the subject.

  Talia Blum: Which is?

  Ben Storm: What you’re trying to get from me and what I don’t plan on giving you.

  He doesn’t know what I want. God, I’m still trying to figure it out myself. All I know is I can’t stop thinking about him, and my body is sending out such intense signals of longing that it surprises me. Even scares me.

  Talia Blum: Again, you assume incorrectly. You don’t know me.

  Ben Storm: I read what you wrote, and it gave me a lot of food for thought.

  He probably thinks I’m completely insane. Demons and fairies…

  Talia Blum: It’s just an old piece. Calm down.

  Ben Storm: Your ability to minimize everything is impressive.

  Talia Blum: Thanks.

  Ben Storm: It wasn’t a compliment.

  I know.

  Talia Blum: Whatever. Are you coming over or am I going to sleep alone?

  Ben Storm: I don’t know whom you’re going to sleep with and it’s none of my business. But it won’t be with me.

  For now. We’ll see about that.

  Talia Blum: I thought you liked kissing me.

  Ben Storm: I like kissing you a lot and now I realize I shouldn’t do it again.

  What? He’s not serious! He’s not going to start regretting it now. No. No. No. This isn’t happening. Okay, he’s drunk and I need to raise the odds.

  Talia Blum: Pity. I’ll have to find someone else to kiss me.

  Ben Storm: Good luck.

  Damn! Does he really not care?

  Talia Blum: Asshole.

  Ben Storm: Think whatever you want.

  Talia Blum: I think you’re playing an annoying game and you’re more screwed up than me.

  Ben Storm: Let me repeat myself; think whatever you want.

  Talia Blum: And FYI, you’re not such a good kisser.

  He’s not a good kisser. He’s an amazing kisser.

  Ben Storm: Hmmm.

  Talia Blum: Really, I’ve had men that kissed me a thousand times better than you.

  Very good. He doesn’t need another stroke to his inflated ego.

  Ben Storm: Talia, I told you already I drank too much tonight and I’m really restraining myself here.

  Talia Blum: You, restraining yourself? You don’t have a drop of restraint in you!

  Ben Storm: I’m dying to come over and kiss you again.

  What? Didn’t he just say that it’s not going to happen again? Damn it, will he make up his mind?

  Talia Blum: So come over.

  Ben Storm: If I come, I won’t stop at kissing your sweet mouth.

  Talia Blum: Even better.

  Ben Storm: No, beautiful, it’s not even better. It’s bad and it’s not going to happen.

  Make up your goddamn mind!

  Okay, if he’s unable to make a decision, I’ll decide for the both of us. No problem, so he needs a little more convincing. I’m sure that I, or one of my readers, can think of something. He can’t just send me hints that he wants me, and not expect an appropriate response.

  Talia Blum: I love your kisses.

  Ben Storm: What happened to a thousand times better?

  Does he think I can even think of anyone else? I’m addicted—to Ben, to his mouth, to the words he says to me. I drive him crazy and he drives me insane.

  Talia Blum:

  Ben Storm: I need to sleep.

  Talia Blum: Dream about me?

  Ben Storm: I really hope not.

  Talia Blum: You asshole.

  Ben Storm: Good night, beautiful…

  Talia Blum: Good night, my asshole workaholic.

  He logs out first. I flop down on my back, dizzy from the chat with him. Not a chance I’ll be able to sleep now.

  I get up, pull on cargo pants and my blank tank top, which I washed after Ben pushed me up against the orange painting, and go downstairs. Music is playing in my head and in my ears. I turn up the volume, lost for hours, and then let my words burst forth onto my blog. I see how direct they’ve become, how I don’t put up any filters. My entire life is spread all over the Internet, naked and exposed.

  It’s noon when I open my tired eyes on Sunday. I get up and go into the shower, hoping the warm water will wake me up. The water runs over me. My thoughts are all over the place.

  I’m on a high.

  I’m on a high and my entire body wants to shout, and dance, and go wild.

  Entering the kitchen, the water in the kettle has boiled. I assume John is smoking out on the patio, as I can smell his cigarette. I make myself a cup of coffee and go outside. John is sitting in his usual place on the large sofa and, to my surprise, Danny is there as well.

  “Hi,” I mumble tiredly and fall down on the small loveseat, which I love.

  “Good afternoon. Did you just get up now?” Danny looks at me wearily.

  “Yes…” I answer, hoping he won’t ask too many questions.

  “When did you go to sleep?” He stares at me, and I know I’m out of favor and he’s not going to like my answer.

  “Late…” I try to evade his question one last time. Danny doesn’t look happy.“How late? And don’t lie to me,” he says quietly.

  “Four?” I stammer, knowing there’s no point in lying to him. I take a sip of my coffee and try not to catch his eye. John pretends to be indifferent to the confrontation brewing on the patio. His ability to remain uninvolved is astounding. He can sit silently, close his eyes, and smoke his cigarette, as though Danny and I aren’t on the verge of a showdown.

  “Talia!” Danny reprimands me.

  “What? It’s Sunday! I don’t have to work. I can paint all night if I want to.” I try to make excuses for the late hour I went to bed.

  “Who are you kidding?” He gets angry. He’s not stupid. He’s known me long enough.

  “I’m not kidding anyone. Anyway, I slept till now,” I try to appease him.

  “Tonight you’re going to bed at eight,” he insists angrily.

  What?

  “You think?” I shout. He’s not my father.

  “Talia, don’t argue with me. You need to sleep properly. I can’t take care of you, if—” he stops abruptly.

  He’s scared to say it. To even think it.

  “If what?”

  “You know very well.”

  “I’m not on a high,” I say defensively, well aware of how untrue that is.

  “You’re really close to it.”

  “How do you know? Did you study psychiatry while I wasn’t here?” I snap. I need to calm Danny down quickly. He can’t realize the true state I’m in.

  “I know you. And the more you deny it, the more worried I get.”

  “And sending me to bed at eight o’clock will make you worry less?” I retort.

  “I’m begging you. Eat and sleep properly. I don’t want to worry about you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Thank you.”

  I put out my cigarette and go dow
n to the basement.