He reaches out a hand toward my face. Is he going to touch my cheek? Wrap his hand around my neck and bend down for a kiss? But then he lets his hand fall. “Come on,” he says. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
The next evening we meet at the gym again, and I’m looking forward to spending some time alone with Ben. Instead of running shorts, I opted for long yoga pants. Because what’s the point of getting turned on by some guy’s beard on your thighs if he’s already taken?
This time the gym is open, a class going on in the second studio. Ben’s set up two obstacles, giant boxes covered in mat material, so I can get the feel of what it’s like to be carried while he’s climbing over things.
“Tessa,” he says with a grin as I enter the gym. His outfit is similar to yesterday’s, and again I am stunned into momentary silence by his lean and strong body. But it’s his smile that really disarms me, genuine and reflected also in his eyes, glinting with mischief.
“Hey, Ben.” I sit down immediately to take off my shoes and socks. I made a point to get a pedicure today on my lunch break, and even though I told myself it was because I needed it, I knew the real reason was because I wanted Ben to think I have pretty feet.Especially since they’ll be in his face while we practice. Also? I bought a pack of baby wipes so I could clean my feet in the car right before practice, just to make sure they didn’t gross him out.
A guy enters the studio, well built and grinning as he gives Ben a tough man hug. “Bro! Good to see you.” He turns to me with interest.
“Joel, this is my new partner for the competition. Tessa. Tessa, this is my long time friend Joel. He owns this place.”
“Hi!” I say, standing up and shaking his hand. “Thanks for letting us practice here.”
“Yeah, no problem. Nice to meet you.” He turns back to Ben. “How come you always get all the pretty ones? One after another with this guy,” he says, pointing at Ben with his thumb.
“Oh, we’re not… we’re just doing the competition together,” I say lamely, not even sure what Joel’s getting at.
“Yeah yeah, I know. I didn’t mean anything.” He puts his hands up defensively. “I gotta get back to my class. Dude, if you finish up early in here, I need to work on my shoulders. Think I could borrow her for a little bit?” He winks at me.
Ben laughs, but it’s not his usual genuine and generous laugh. It’s forced, but I’m not sure why. It could be because Joel’s being a pig. Or it could be because he’s being possessive. Which makes no sense, since we barely know each other. But I can’t help the fact that my heart skips a beat at the tone.
Joel leaves, smiling over his shoulder at me as he does, and Ben kneels down right away. “Let’s get started,” he says.
I approach him, standing directly in front of him like last time. He grins up at me, then urges me forward by giving me the “come here” signal with his finger.
I swear it’s like he’s a magnet and I’m a helpless little metal shaving, unable to resist his pull.
“Get on,” he says with a drawl.
Holy crap.
I straddle his shoulders again, lying my body down his back, and he stands with no hesitation. It still feels weird to be hanging upside down, but not as bad as yesterday.
We practice for about half an hour, broken down into segments of about ten minutes of carrying and a few minutes of rest in between. I’m getting the feel of holding on to him, both with my legs around his neck and my arms, sometimes clinging to the belt and sometimes curled around his body, my hands clasped together over his rock-hard abs.
When we’re done, he’s sweaty, and I have a headache, though I’m more than mildly turned on by clinging to his gorgeous body for so long. We sit on the mat next to each other while I put my socks and shoes on.
“Do you think we’re ready?” I ask. It’s our last chance to practice before the event on Saturday morning.
“Yeah,” he says. “And even if we don’t win, which honestly we probably won’t, we’re still raising money for charity, and that’s what it’s all about.”
“Who says we won’t win?” I ask, tying my right sneaker and tightening the laces on my left.
“Eh, there are people who literally practice all year for this.” He laughs. “Of course, I would love to win your weight in beer and five times your weight in dollars.”
“That’s the prize?”
He nods. “Yup.” Sweat glistens on his neck, and I want to touch it, to run my hand through his damp curls.
“Who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky.” I smile up at him.
“Oh yeah?” He turns to me so our eyes meet. One of his eyebrows is cocked, and there’s the hint of a grin on his lips.
I roll my eyes, but my breath hitches when he reaches out and tucks a strand of hair back behind my ear. His finger makes a trail from my ear down to my chin, slowly, as he stares into my eyes. He puts gentle pressure under my chin, like he wants me to stay just like this, face tilted up toward his. It’s not like I could look away; it’s not like I’d ever choose to.
“Tessa?” It’s a question. He’s asking permission.
All I can do is nod. Yes. Of course yes!
Slowly he bends his head, his lips moving closer to mine. My mouth parts a bit, ready for his kiss.
“Bro! You ready for the big weekend?” Joel enters the studio, loud and boisterous and the worst interruption I’ve ever experienced.
“Yeah. We’re ready,” says Ben, looking at me for a second before breaking his gaze away and standing. “You coming out to watch?”
“Of course, man!” says Joel. “Hey, listen. If you’re done here, could you take a look at my hand? It’s been giving me some trouble.”
“Find a girlfriend and you won’t have to overuse it.” Ben winks at him. “You know I practice in neurology and psychiatry, right? Not orthopedics?”
“Just take a look. Tell me who to see.”
“Yeah. Sure.” Ben looks at me with regret in his eyes, and I wonder what he’s thinking. Was the almost-kiss a one-time deal, with us both caught up in the moment, or something I’ll have a chance to experience another time? “I’ll see you this weekend?” he asks.
“Right. OK.” I wave awkwardly as I take a step backwards, then turn and leave the studio. At my car, I take a deep breath. He was going to kiss me! But what if he never tries again?
Frustrated, I unlock the door and start to slide into the driver’s seat.
“Tessa! Wait!”
I spin around and see Ben jogging to my car, his quads so muscular I’m pretty sure they’d be hard as steel if I touched them. And even though I probably won’t ever find out, I feel a little breathless anyway as he approaches me.
I tilt my head as he gets closer, about to ask what’s going on. But I don’t have a chance. He backs me up against the open door of my car and, with one hand behind my neck, pulls me toward him. Fast. No hesitation at all.
His lips are tender at first, kissing mine gently like he’s asking a question without words. He pulls back to look into my eyes. His are hungry, and any trace of his usual jokey demeanor is gone, replaced by stark and unadulterated desire.
This time when we kiss it’s hard and greedy, like we’re both acknowledging the fact that we want each other. That someday we’ll have each other. That eventually we won’t be able to hold back until we’ve drowned ourselves in the passion we both feel. But for now it’s just a kiss—a promise of what’s to come.
I’ve never been kissed like this. Never felt this weak, like I’d float away if he wasn’t here with one hand wound in my hair and the other on my waist to keep me down here on solid ground. My head is a kaleidoscope, tiny scraps of desire and sexy songs and love poems all spinning and spinning and arranging themselves in an array of unpredictable but beautiful designs.
I cling to the soft material of his worn T-shirt as we end the kiss.
“You all right?” he asks, tilting my face up with a finger under my chin.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“I just… that was…”
“I know.” Another kiss now, this one gentle, quick, lingering for only a promise-filled moment.
“What about Gemma?” I don’t want to ask, but I have to, because if he’s with her I can’t do this.
“What about her?” he asks, taking a step back, a confused look on his face.
“Are you guys…?”
“Gemma and me? No. We’re old friends and sometimes colleagues. I don’t cheat, Tessa. Never have, never will.”
“So you’re not an asshole?” I ask, reaching out to play with the hem of his old T-shirt.
“Nope.” He takes my hand and puts it on his chest, covering it with his own big hand.
“So what about the ringtone in the park?” I wince as I say it. But I’m dying to know.
“What about it?”
“You just let it ring and ring. And it was loud! And you sat there laughing. Kind of like a, well, asshole.”
I shrug and he laughs.
“Yeah, I can see that,” he says after a few moments. “OK. You remember that kid at my office? He’s this really neat kid, and he’s had a difficult time expressing his feelings. He’s repetitive and closed off. Barely shows emotions. Really serious. I’ve been working with him on opening up, and one way he’s starting doing that is through humor. So we’ve got this thing—it sounds stupid—but it’s actually monumentally important. We play practical jokes on each other. I was letting him play a game on my phone during our session before the concert, and when my phone started ringing, I knew he’d changed the ring tone to the asshole calling one as a prank. So it seemed like I was being a dick, but I was so stunned and happy that I just wanted to listen to it until it stopped.”
Shit. Now I feel like a jerk.
“Ben, I’m sorry…”
“I’m not. If you didn’t think I was an asshole, we’d never have met.” He pulls me close and kisses me once more. Regret fills his eyes as he breaks the kiss. “I have to get back to Joel.” He rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’d much rather do this again.”
It’s like we’re teenagers, unable to keep our hands off each other. His hand grasps my ass, pulling me toward him, and I feel how hard he is. I strain my hips forward, feeling his length against my stomach. His other hand slides up my shirt, his hand warming the tender skin of my back.
I moan—it’s unbidden, and I’m a little embarrassed to be so wonton. But he only kisses me harder.
When he stops, he puts his hands on my shoulders and grins, then runs one hand through his unruly hair. “Tessa,” he says in a low voice. “What am I going to do with you?”
I shrug but smile in response. Everything, I want to say. You’re going to do everything with me. But of course I could never say that out loud.
“Be safe,” he whispers. “I’ll see you this weekend.”
“Yeah. You too.” I watch as he jogs back to the studio. Then I get in my car and drive home.
My office is finally starting to look like a real office and not just a room with a desk and lots of cardboard boxes. A really, really small room. I seriously think the closet in my apartment is bigger. But at least it’s mine, with a door I can shut if I need to speak privately with someone or just need time alone. I even have a tiny window, which is streaked and dirty, but I’ll get to it soon.
Classes don’t start for another week, but I’m busy making last minute changes to my syllabi and arranging my office and learning my way around campus.
I’m startled by a knock on the open door, and when I look up it’s Gemma. Ben’s Gemma.
What the hell?
“Oh. Hi.” I stand up from arranging volumes of poetry on a low shelf and cross my arms over my chest. What is she doing here?
“Hi,” she says, looking around quickly. “What a cute little office!” I’m not sure if the condescending tone is real or a figment of my imagination.
“Thanks.”
Her platinum blond pixied hair and elegant pants suit, paired with heels higher than I’ve ever worn, look out of place in this dusty book-riddled corridor of the English department, which somehow is at the bottom of the list for university renovations. It makes me feel at home, like the people who grace these halls care about the really important things, such as how to capture meaning in a handful of words or write a truly unique phrase that expresses what love feels like. But suddenly, instead of feeling proud of my job and position, I feel like a little, insignificant mouse.
“So listen. Tessa. I’ve got great news! The x-rays of my knee came back clear, and after a cortisone injection, I feel like new. So you don’t have to take my place tomorrow in the competition.”
My heart stops. “Oh. Um…”
“You don’t mind, do you?”
Yes! I do! But I can’t say it.
I want to. I try to. But when I open my mouth to speak, all I see is Gemma’s cool confidence, and no words come out. Instead, I shake my head.
“Great. I’ll let Ben know. And thanks for filling in so Ben could practice while I was out of commission.”
“Yeah. Of course.”
“Have a nice day,” she says, glancing around my office one last time. I swear there’s a tiny look of disdain on her face.
“You too,” I mutter, but she’s already gone. I can hear her heels clicking away down the hallway.
“What happened to Tessa’s Time?” moans Jessica. “Why didn’t you say you wanted to do it?”
“I don’t know!” I wail. “She was so… professional and confident.”
“You’re professional too! You’re a freaking professor, Tessa. And you’re gorgeous. I don’t know why you’re so intimidated by her. You need to stick up for yourself.”
“I know.” She’s right. “But the competition is tomorrow morning, and she’s doing it. I was only the understudy.” I stand still to allow the small white dog I’m walking to pee on a tree. Jessica and I are taking two of the shelter dogs from Happy Endings for a walk while I tell her my sad tale.
“You said he kissed you, right?” Jessica clicks her tongue at the German shepherd mix she’s walking to distract him from the squirrel he’s suddenly obsessed with.
“He did.”
“So he likes you. You shouldn’t just let him go.”
“But how can I compete with a gorgeous neurologist who’s already his best friend and, by the way, looks like a Victoria’s Secret model?”
“What makes you think you have to?” she asks.
“Because it’s obvious she likes him.”
“But he likes you.”
“I don’t know, Jessica.”
“You owe it to yourself to at least talk to him. Make sure he wants Gemma to be his partner and not you.”
“All right,” I say, as we turn to head back to the shelter. “I’ll call him tonight.”
But later, after I’ve given myself a pep talk and had a glass of wine for courage and called him, he doesn’t answer his phone, and I don’t leave a message. I think about texting him, but I already called, and I don’t want to seem desperate. I go to bed and toss and turn all night, wishing I knew what he was thinking.
I wake up early and get dressed. I’m stunningly sad that instead of putting on bike shorts and a T-shirt I’m putting on a pair of jeans and a sweater. I know watching him carry Gemma through the course will be like rubbing salt in my wounds, but I need to go. Not showing up would be giving in completely, and I’m not about to do that.
I wish I could bring Jessica with me for moral support, but she took a red-eye out of town to some veterinary conference, so I’m on my own.
The parking lot is packed, and I have to park far away from the course. Smiles and laughter lighten the dark and cold day, and I huddle into my sweater as I make my way toward the course. Competitors, dressed in athletic wear, stretch and chit-chat.
I don’t see Ben and Gemma, and though I know it’s inevitable that I will, I savor the few minutes I have to ground myself before I have to face them.
“
Tessa?”
I spin around and stare into Ben’s eyes. “Hey,” I say, trying to sound breezy.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to, um, support you. And Gemma.”
“Oh.” His usual smile isn’t there. In fact, I swear he’s close to frowning at me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I really wanted to do the race with you, Tessa.”
“I did too! But Gemma came to my office…”
“She said you seemed relieved that her knee was better,” he interrupts. “And that you might have to go out of town? Something about a sick relative?”
I take a deep breath. I’m tired of hiding how I feel. I’m not going to do it any longer. “What? No. I don’t have a sick anyone. And honestly? I was devastated when she said she was back in. I just… I couldn’t say no to her, Ben. She was your original partner.”
“I should have called you after I spoke with her. I was swamped…” His words trail off and he grabs me suddenly, his hand on my back, and looks into my eyes. “You’re the one I want to be with.” His words are savage, his eyes blazing. “I vaguely remember telling you once already that you shouldn’t be afraid to say what you want.”
I take a deep breath. “I want you, Ben. I mean, to race with you.”
He chuckles. “Just to race with me?”
“Let’s talk after the competition.” Then reality hits me. “Wait! I’m not dressed for the race. I don’t…”
“You’re fine. I can carry you in jeans and a sweater.”
“But I’ll get soaked when we go through the water and be too heavy.” I glance at the other teams stretching and getting ready, the women in bike shorts and sports bras despite the chilly morning.
Suddenly I don’t want to play it safe anymore. Something opens inside me, like the sun breaking through gray clouds, triumphant and bursting with light. I pull my sweater off over my head.
Ben stands up straighter and raises an eyebrow at me, grinning as I toss my sweater at him. I shiver slightly in my black bra, then begin to unbutton my jeans.
