It’s been a long time since I’ve been here. I moved out about four months ago and I try not to think about the fact that she’s sleeping in the same bed that I did.
Before I can focus too much on it, she opens the door wearing a pair of jeans and a shirt that hangs down on one side, giving me a view of her shoulder. Her blonde hair is swept to the side over the shoulder that isn’t exposed.
She’s beautiful.
Absolutely fucking breathtaking.
The last few years haven’t been kind to me and I haven’t been to myself either. When I lost my leg, I was fucking furious at the world. Sometimes I still am. But right now, I just want to fall to my knees and thank God for allowing me even just tonight to be with Gretchen.
“You look...” I stumble.
“Homeless?”
Definitely not the adjective I would’ve used. “What?”
She sighs. “I have all my stuff in storage until I find somewhere permanent. I wasn’t really thinking of keeping out date clothes when I packed essentials. I mean, I think the jeans make my butt look good at least.” She turns her perfect ass toward me and looks at it over her shoulder. “Right?”
I clear my throat, trying to wipe away the images of her bent over with my hands gripping it. “Very good.”
Gretchen beams. “But this top sucks. Catherine had it in her closet and since she’s in California, I borrowed it because well...she won’t care.”
I move closer. “You look beautiful, Gretch. Beautiful.”
Her smile makes my heart beat faster. “Really? Are you sure? I haven’t really heard...it’s just...”
It’s as if that’s the first time anyone’s ever told her how gorgeous she is. How the fuck did this guy ever let her go?
He’s a fool, that’s how.
“Thank you.” Her hand rests on my forearm. “You look really good too.”
“Let’s head out,” I say before I press her against the door and kiss her until she can’t breathe.
We make our way to the car and she whistles. “Wow.”
I’m a car guy. I love taking something old and making it look new. Liam and I work on our cars every weekend. My baby, Betty, is everything. Betty is a 1970 Dodge Challenger convertible. It’s a metallic purple with a black roof.
Gretchen walks over, her fingertips graze the paint and I have to remember not to act like an idiot. This is a date. I have to not be ridiculous about my car.
“It’s gorgeous.”
“Betty, this is Gretchen.”
“Oh, God!” Gretchen slaps her hand to her head. “You too? Jesus. I know Liam is a little insane about his car...Robert? Roberta?”
“Robin,” I correct her.
“Right. So you’re like that too? Seriously? You’re how old and you’re introducing me to your car?”
I shrug. “You’re about to go inside her. I wanted you both acquainted.”
Her jaw falls slack. “In case, what? In case she wants to kick me out?”
If she did, I would take Betty’s side, but I don’t say that. Since I would sound ridiculous.
“You never know.”
Gretchen shakes her head like she can’t believe this conversation.
“If it makes you feel any better, you’re the first girl to ever ride in her.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Gretchen steps close to me, her hip resting on Betty. “Why is that?”
Because you’re the only girl I’ve ever given a fuck about.
Because you’re the only girl I’ve ever thought about.
Because I fucking dreamed that one day this could be reality.
Instead of spouting shit and looking ridiculous, I tell her the truth. “Because no one else was worthy.”
I pull the passenger door open, and she grins. “Good answer.”
“Get in, babe. We’ve got a date to go on.”
I close the door and walk around the back. This date is for her, not me. I tell myself that a few more times as I make my way to the driver’s seat. I want to show her what it should be like because she never should’ve had to wonder.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Yes.”
I’m glad one of us is.
* * * *
“You’re taking me to a chick flick?”
“Of course I am.”
“You’re nuts!”
Did this guy never take her to a fucking movie? It was bad enough that through dinner she kept talking about how weird it was to be in public.
I’ve never wanted to kill someone as much as I want to with this guy. He not only made her doubt herself, but also gave her the lowest expectations possible. I want her to get everything she could ever want. She deserves that and more.
“No, I’m being a dude hoping at the end of the night you’d let me stick my tongue in your mouth. This is what happens on a date,” I say with a hint of sarcasm laced in truth.
Gretchen laughs. “Most guys I know don’t want to see this.”
“You think I do?”
Hell no do I want to sit through two hours of some stupid movie where I’m going to want to punch not only the “hero” of the movie but myself by the end. However, this is what guys do for girls they want to woo.
And wooing is what is happening here.
“I feel bad for the guy who takes me out after tonight,” she says and rests her head on my arm as we walk into the theater.
Yeah, me too because I’m going to kill him. No one else should ever get to know her like this, only me.
I stop moving when I think the last part. I’m not the right guy for her. I’m far from worthy. She’s perfect, unmarred, not scarred or broken. Gretchen isn’t walking around with a life’s worth of anger because she’s alive.
Nope. That’s me.
“You okay?”
Shit. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“We can see something else.” Her voice is soft with a hint of sadness.
Damn it. Me and my fucking issues. “No. No way. I’m excited to see all this love and smiles.”
Gretchen’s smile is timid. “Seriously, Ben, we don’t—”
“Stop it. This is a date. We’re going to see a date movie and you’re not going to try to fix this. You’re going to just enjoy it, got it?”
I can see that it’s eating her up inside. She wants to make everyone else happy but herself. I bet right now, if I said we were going to see some action movie, she’d do it just because it’s what I wanted.
She’s spent her entire life, and relationship to the douchefucker, worrying about everyone else’s happiness instead of her own.
“Fine. You seem really firm on it, so we’ll go see the sappy movie.”
Good.
“Let’s go. The previews are the best part and you need to experience the awkward pre-date sitting.”
She hooks her arm through mine and we make our way to our seats. One thing that the movie companies finally did right was reserved seating. It’s nice not to have to try to get here thirty minutes early just to not be stuck in the front row.
We sit down and she grabs the popcorn. I forced her to share a drink with me, part of the fun is reaching for the cup at the same time, and the lights dim.
Now I just need to keep my hands to myself.
Chapter Eight
Gretchen
He’s so close.
He’s so close and all I want to do is reach my hand over and take his, but this isn’t a real date. This is him trying to teach me, and I need to remember that.
It’s not like he likes me. He feels bad.
I’m so stupid.
I can’t believe I let myself start to wish otherwise. When I was getting ready today, I kept wondering if he’d think I was pretty or if he liked my hair up or down. I fussed over everything.
My nerves are shot and my muscles are tight. I’m crazy because this is Ben. The boy who used to eat dinner at my house every week because my mother likes him more than me. He’s the kid
who watched movies in my bedroom and made fun of me the entire time.
He makes a yawning noise, lifting his arms over his head and then around my shoulders.
I let out a giggle and lean close, my voice is a whisper. “Smooth.”
His lips brush my ear. “Wooing. I’m wooing you.”
I bite my lower lip to stop myself from laughing. “It’s working.”
“Good.”
If this is how dates are supposed to be, I’ve been missing out. He’s so sweet by opening doors, helping me out of the car, paying for the movie and snacks. I lift the arm rest between us, tucking my leg up and nestling into his chest.
His body locks and then releases a second later. I don’t look up at him, instead I force myself to focus on the crappy movie playing. My pulse spikes when a few minutes later, his fingers begin to idly play with my hair. Almost as if he doesn’t know it’s happening.
This was our thing as kids.
We’d watch movies and snuggle.
Now we’re adults. I’m ridiculously attracted to him, and this has danger written all over it.
The movie ends and I realize I missed the entire ending. I laid on his chest, with my eyes closed, enjoying the way his hands felt on me.
Pull it together, Gretchen.
“Did you like it?” Ben asks as we walk out.
“Sure.”
He laughs. “I knew you weren’t even watching!”
Shit. Now I’m busted. “It was stupid!”
“God you’re still the same in so many ways. You never watched the movies when we were kids and you would pretend.”
I definitely did that. I was comfortable then and apparently now.
“Whatever. You’re the same too.”
“How?”
I hook my arm in his as we walk. “You’re still very sweet. You play with my hair. You still have no issue telling me what you think.”
Ben snorts. “You still don’t listen then and you’re nuts if you think I’m sweet.”
“Nope. You’re wrong. You’re very sweet.”
“Doubtful.”
“I know sweet Benjamin Pryce and you are a big teddy bear with a heart of gold. Now, how am I the same?”
“You still argue.” Ben nudges me.
“Ha!” I laugh and then shrug. “That’s an occupational hazard. I argue for a living.”
Ben takes my hand in his. It’s so innocent and sweet, and I pull it out.
“Sorry,” he says with a hint of sadness.
What the hell is wrong with me? I’m so ridiculous. “No, I am. I’m sorry,” I say, stopping in front of him.
“You don’t have—”
“I do! Please, let me explain.” I know this is going to go over like a ton of bricks but there’s a reason I’m such a mess. “I told you how Harold and I had to spend our entire relationship in secrecy. Well, that was the same with touching. I could never hold his hand if we were walking like this. Just in case. Just in case someone from the firm or a client saw us. It was just reflex and I’m sorry.”
Ben steps forward, his hand cups my cheek and my instinct is to move, but his other hand comes up, trapping me between his strong grasp. “You don’t owe me an explanation, but I will say that I can’t begin to understand how he could stop himself from touching you. I know you miss him and wish you were with him, but God, I don’t understand it. I don’t know how the man could keep any distance from you.”
“There’s something wrong with me,” I confess. “That’s the thing. It’s clearly me.”
Through this entire night there was something bothering me. Through dinner and then the movie I never once missed Harold. I wasn’t wishing it was him instead of Ben. I didn’t think about Harold other than to think how stupid he was.
“No, there’s nothing wrong with you.”
My hands wrap around his wrists, but he doesn’t pull his hands down. “I just mean that I don’t miss him. I was engaged to him, and I don’t miss him. I haven’t thought about him. I haven’t wondered what he’s doing or thought about how he must feel. Because I don’t care. It’s crazy. I mean, there has to be something wrong with me because no one doesn’t miss someone they were going to marry a few weeks ago, right?”
Ben’s eyes are filled with so much emotion. “There is nothing wrong with you, Gretchen. Nothing.”
I shake my head and a tear falls. “I was going to marry a man I didn’t love. I would’ve stood at that altar and said I do. All for what? To follow my plan? To fulfill some stupid idea I had about life? I would’ve done it. I would’ve spent the rest of my life with him, had those kids, lived that lie.”
I look at him to give me the answer telling me I’m crazy. It would at least explain what’s wrong with me. How could I not think about Harold? How is it that Ben is what consumes my thoughts at night?
There’s something about him holding me that made me feel secure, which I haven’t felt in a long time. Deep inside, I know that Ben will protect me, my heart, my feelings. Hell, he’s doing it now. He isn’t running and hiding for fear that someone might see us. No, he’s taking me in his arms—in public.
His hands are out for me to hold, not making me a secret.
And then there’s how my body reacts to him—which is a whole other problem. He’s...Ben. He’s the sweet guy who carried my books. The one who always made sure I didn’t sit alone at lunch. He’s always taken care of me, and he’s doing it again.
Ben’s voice is low and cautious, but underneath I hear something else that I can’t name. “Thank God you didn’t.”
My heart races at the inflection in his voice. I want to ask him why he feels that way or said it at all, but instead, Ben wipes the tear from my cheek and takes a step back. “Now, no more talk about what’s wrong with you. We have part two of the date. Okay?”
He puts his hand out, allowing me to take it this time. I nod, untrusting of my voice at this point, and put my palm in his. Knowing he might have just taken a part of my heart back again.
* * * *
The second part of the date is probably my favorite. Okay, it definitely is. Ben took me to the boardwalk. It’s not like what I’m used to in New Jersey, but it reminds me a bit of home.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I say as we walk with his arm around my shoulder.
“Yes I did. You’re a Jersey girl and I know all too well what we grew up doing.”
“You left before all of that,” I remind him.
“I still spent my summers at the shore, eating cheesesteaks at Midway and riding rollercoasters. And if I remember correctly, you and I spent time there too.”
I smile as the younger version of us comes to mind. We were in eighth grade, right before he left, and my mom drove us down to Seaside Heights. There was something so simple about my generation when it came to living. We didn’t have this insane fear that we would be taken or lost. We could go down that shore, walk the boardwalk as long as we were back before the lights were on or we checked in. I didn’t have a cellphone and there were no tracking devices, but there was trust.
Ben and I were allowed to walk the boardwalk with our ten dollars, spending it on ice cream and the arcade.
“It was one of my favorite memories with you,” I tell him.
“It was because of my impeccable kissing skills.”
I laugh and playfully smack his stomach. “Please. You sucked. You were all tongue and braces.”
Ben snorts. “You were no better.”
“I was too.”
“Nope. You were definitely one of my worst kissing partners.”
I scoff and stop walking. “Is that so?”
“Sorry, babe, I just speak the truth.”
“I’ll have you know I’m a fantastic kisser.”
“Doubtful. No one could improve that much,” Ben tosses back with mirth in his tone.
I know for a fact I’m a good kisser. No one has ever complained before and the guys I was with always wanted more.
I’m taking t
hat as a testament to my skill. I also know I’m walking into a trap, but the truth is, it’s one I want to walk into.
I want to kiss him.
I want to feel his lips on mine as a grown woman.
There’s not a doubt in my mind that he wants it as well.
“I’ll prove it.” I throw down the first gauntlet.
“No.”
My stomach drops. Oh, God, I’ve been reading it all wrong. He really was just being nice and trying to show me a real date. He doesn’t like me that way and I was so stupid just now. Damn it.
“Right,” I say with wounded pride. I start to turn, but he grabs my arm, stopping me.
“No, you don’t need to prove it.” Ben takes one step, his hands returning to my face. He cups my cheeks, tilting my head to the side. “I’m going to kiss you. Right. Now.”
And then he does.
But it’s nothing like our first kiss. It’s not fumbling, unsure, or soft. This kiss is powerful and full of passion. Benjamin Pryce kisses like he owns the world. My lips are molded to his and my hands grip his elbows. The heat from his touch is felt down in my toes.
I have never in my entire life been kissed like this.
When his fingers slide back into my hair I gasp, and he uses that opportunity to slide his tongue in. At the first feel of it against mine, I lose it.
He controls the tempo, moving swiftly and then slower, making me crazy in the middle of the boardwalk. People move around us, but I don’t give a flying fuck. All I want is to drown in this man’s warmth.
“You’re so beautiful,” he tells me and then his mouth is on mine again.
I move my fingers to his solid chest, feeling the muscles pulse underneath my touch.
God, he’s so good at this.
I melt, my body molding to his in one of those movie type kisses.
He pulls back, giving me two chaste kisses and I stand here, eyes closed, savoring the best kiss of my life.
After another heartbeat, I open them, finding his deep brown ones looking down at me. Ben’s lips turn to a sly grin. “So, do I still suck at kissing?”
“No. Definitely not.”
He leans back down again, kissing me softly this time. “Neither do you.”
Evermore Page 5
