by Mj Fields
I start to ask about his music at the same time he asks if I’m single.
“You first.”
“I don’t have time nor patience for a boyfriend.” I shrug.
“I get the patience thing, but why no time?”
“I’m six years through eight years of college and—”
“Eight?”
I nod. “I’ll graduate with my Doctorate in Pharmacology.”
“Impressive.” He nods.
I laugh. “Says the guy standing on stage before screaming fans, slaying it on the guitar.”
“Not my norm.” He smirks. “Just filled in for a buddy tonight.”
“Dana, my traitorous guide, mentioned an American songwriter. That’s you?”
He nods.
“Impressive, Ben Sawyer. Your parents must be proud.”
“They really don’t know yet.”
“Huh?”
“Just happened. Pretty cool, but Dad wants me to take over back in Watkins, and I keep trying to get him to retire, sell the place, and live, you know?”
“I do know.”
“Raised by the same kind of people,” he acknowledges.
“I’m grateful for the way I was raised, but when I travel, there’s a piece of me that feels sorry for my parents for never getting to experience it all.”
“I know exactly how you feel.”
“Then I feel guilty that I’m able to.”
He sighs. “Same damn feeling I have.”
“But we’re both doing it.” I force a smile.
“Why the sad smile?” he asks.
I look up and see such deep sincerity in his eyes. Sincerity I felt before … a very long time ago.
When I don’t reply, he cocks his head again, waiting.
“Although my parents encourage me to follow my dreams, it’s, well, you know.” I shrug.
“Your brother Alex took over the farm, correct?”
I nod. “He converted one of the old barns into a veterinary clinic.”
He laughs.
“What?”
“Must be your folks told my parents about that. My mom talked about converting the big red barn into a rustic wedding and reception venue. She has a harebrained idea that Dad, her, and I could run the business part, and I could continue my ‘music hobby’ by playing at them.”
My father, John, and Ben’s father went to college together. They were fraternity brothers and have remained friends. They still even hunt together.
“Do they know how well you’re doing with your ‘hobby’?”
His eyes light up. His smile, too. “They have no clue.”
“What?” I gasp. “Why?”
When he looks down, I realize I’ve grabbed his hand from across the table. When I attempt to pull it back, he holds it a little tighter as he looks up at me.
“Just became real a week ago. I wanna surprise them. Tell them in person.”
He looks back down at our hands, dragging his thumb across the back of my hand. “Let’s cut the small talk and discuss what’s happening here.”
I pull my hand back and clear my throat. “It’s obvious that neither of us had a clue as to who each other were, so let’s just forget—”
“Not a chance,” he deadpans.
“I won’t hold it against—”
“I wish you would.”
“Oh my God, Ben, really?” I force a laugh and make a joke out of it in an attempt to make it less awkward.
“Something happened up there. You know it, and so do I.”
As sobriety comes calling, I set my feet on the floor. Confidence follows suit. “I got swept up in the music. So did you.”
“Bullshit, Ross.”
“Dismiss it all you want, but it’s what happened.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not ready to do that without exploring it further.”
“I’m not like …” I stop because what I want to say would sound judgmental and disrespectful to my sister, which is not truly how I feel.
“You do realize that the thing that went on with Tessa and me was brief.”
I shake my head. “You loved her all the way from her senior year in high school through all of college.”
He literally laughs out loud.
“Ben,” I shush him as I look around. The whole place is looking at us. Well, him.
“Little Ross,” he grabs my hand and leans nearly all the way across the table, “with age and experience comes wisdom and knowledge.”
I again attempt to pull my hand back, but he holds it a little tighter.
“Wanna know a secret?”
“Not really,” I grumble as I look around at the curious faces in the crowded café.
“I never loved her in that way. I hated Lucas for breaking the heart of the girl whose finger I pulled a thorn out of when I was probably too young to remember doing so.” He laughs, and I freeze. “A girl who gave me my very first kiss. Stupid shit, but there it is. See, Kendall,” he releases my hand, and I continue staring at the crowd, “it’s not only little girls who buy into fairytales. Sometimes guys fall for the bullshit, too.”
5
Wild Honey
Ben
When she stands abruptly, knocking over her chair in the process, I start to rise as well. Then she jets out the door.
“Well, fuck.” I run my hand through my hair then do some stupid shit, shit I’ve never done with a girl.
I chase her.
Outside the café, I look left and don’t see her. Then I look right as she slips into a cab.
I hear someone yell behind me, “Your lass left her bag.”
I turn around and look at the tiny, little patchwork quilted purse and think, perfect.
“Thank you. I’ll get it to her.”
Watching her cab pull away, I legit jump in front of another then hurry inside. “Dude, follow that cab.”
“All right then.” He laughs.
Pulling up behind Kendall’s cab, I toss a twenty to the driver then scramble out just as the cab pulls away from.
I sprint toward them. Luckily for me, traffic stops, and I’m able to get to them before they pull away from the hotel.
When I open the door, I see her sparkling blue eyes filled with tears.
“The lass needs to pay her fare,” the cab driver snarls.
“Watch your fucking tone,” I snap as I toss a twenty at him then pull her out.
“I left my—”
I hold up her purse.
“Thank you.”
She reaches for it and ends up stumbling over the curb and into me. And then … we fall.
I’m soaked, she’s shocked, and I can’t help laughing at the situation.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, pushing up off me.
“Don’t be. This is almost exactly how I pictured this night ending while I was on stage.”
She sighs as she stands.
“Well, I’d have been on top, and you’d have been the one soaked.”
“Ben Sawyer.” She stomps her foot and manages to splash us both.
Laughing, I jump up and pull her behind me toward the hotel entrance.
Once at the elevator, she pulls her hand away, and I turn to look back at her.
“I’m not having sex with you.” She whispered sex.
“Wouldn’t expect you to on a first date.”
“We haven’t had a date.” She sighs. “You should go.”
I search her eyes, seeing perplexity gleaming in them. “How about you let me come up and clean my sorry ass up a bit?”
She steps back into the empty elevator car, and I step in next to her.
When the door closes behind us, I turn to look at her, but before I have the chance to say a word, she whispers, “I’m not looking for anything. And by anything, I mean, anything like—”
“Even before I knew it was you, I’m pretty sure I said what happened after breakfast was your call.” I have no idea why I’m so annoyed right now, but I am. She’s acting like I
’m some dick who doesn’t understand the word no. “Just want to clean up, and then I’ll be out of your hair, Kendall.”
When the elevator stops and the doors open to the third floor, I step out and to the side so that she can pass me.
Inside her room, I pull my drenched shirt over my head as I walk over and hang it over the heating vent.
“Might want to rinse it first.”
“Wouldn’t want to put you out any more than I already am.”
“Ben, it’s already soaked.”
“It’s fine.”
I walk into the bathroom, shut the door behind me, drop my jeans, and then look in the mirror. “Jesus, what a mess.”
My hair isn’t just soaked; there are clumps of mud in it.
I open the door and peek my head out, seeing her back is to me. “You mind if I wash off?”
“Of course not.”
Apparently, I take too long in the shower because, when I come out, she’s asleep in a ball on top of the bed, shivering as she hugs a pillow.
After covering her up and pushing the golden waves away from her face, I realize her hair is wet, too.
I pull her little shoes and soaked socks off before lifting a part of the cover to fold over her. She moves ever so slightly, revealing a wet spot on the pillow.
“Little Ross, you need to wake up and get changed, or you’ll catch a cold.”
She doesn’t move.
I turn around, walk to the dresser, and pull open a drawer. Nothing.
I walk to her closet and, again, nothing.
On the opposite side of the bed is a medium-sized suitcase. Surely that can’t be all she brought.
I pick it up, set it on the bed, and unzip it. The damn thing nearly explodes with clear zipper bags.
“Well, fuck.” I laugh as I pick one up.
In black marker, it’s clearly labeled “panties.”
As tempting as it is to unzip the baggy and check out what covers what I am now vividly imagining her soft pale skin looks like, underneath the ones she has on right now, I don’t. Instead, I set it down and rummage through the suitcase.
Pulling out a navy-blue sweatshirt, I shake it out and read, Blue Valley Saints, and see the crossed field hockey sticks in a circle beneath it.
I set it down then sit behind her. “Okay, I’d really like you to wake up and do this yourself.”
“Tired,” she mumbles as she shivers and leans back against me.
“Kendall, sweets, it’s Ben, and you are gonna wake up and think I’m a dick, but—”
“Sorry, Ben,” she says, teeth chattering.
“You’re soaked, and we need to get you out of this.” I pull her jacket slowly down her back.
“N-n-n-n-o.” Her teeth chatter. “S-s-s-so cold.”
“The quicker we get you naked, the quicker we get you warmed up.”
She turns her head and scowls.
“Sweatshirt,” I assure her.
She nods then turns away. Pulling her arms out, she sniffs. “C-c-c-cold.”
“Dress.” As soon as I say it, I realize my voice sounds thicker.
She turns around and looks at me again. Teeth chattering, she divulges, “I’m a virgin, so …”
Fuuuuck, I think.
“Gonna change you out of wet clothes, not pop your …” I stop when she narrows her eyes. “You’re in good hands.”
She leans her wet head against my shoulder. She fits so damn good against me. Her shoulders are almost as broad as my chest. Perfect.
I grab the sweatshirt and set it down next to me. “One of the last times I saw you was when you were playing hockey. You still play?”
Teeth chattering, she nods. “Scholarship at Syracuse University. Now Albany.”
“No shit?”
I lean us forward and grab the hem of her blue dress. “We’ll do this quick. I won’t look, and I won’t cop a feel.” Before she can respond, I pull it up as far as I can. “Lift your bum.”
She does, and then I pull it the rest of the way up, toss it on the floor, grab the sweatshirt and, against all that my body and mind want to do to Kendall … the virgin, I pull the hoodie over her head, covering her. She shoves her arms inside, and then I force myself to move off the damn bed.
I’m in such a hurry to escape, fearing my half-stiff dick is going to nudge her and annoyed that my intentions may be good, but his aren’t, that she falls backward.
When I turn and look at her, I notice one hand is on her tummy, the other is over her mouth, and her normally beautiful complexion is turning a funky shade of green.
Scooping her up, I hurry to the bathroom and make it just in time.
Huddled over the toilet, she throws up everything in her slim waist.
When she turns around, tears are running down her beautiful face.
“Happens to the best of us, Kendall.”
“I need a minute.”
6
When I Look at The World
Ben
Pacing outside the bathroom, I rap on the door when I hear the shower start. “Kendall, you’re fucked up, sweets; shouldn’t be in there alone.”
“I’m fine.”
Her voice sounds anything but fine, so I tell her just that. “You don’t sound fine.”
She doesn’t say a thing, so I plaster my ear against the door, making sure she hasn’t fallen, or if she does, I’ll hear her. When the shower turns off, and I hear her step out, now knowing she hasn’t slipped and fallen, I step back.
After a few minutes, she opens the door just a crack and slips my jeans out. “I rinsed these. You should hang them over the heater. I have a couple pair of sweatpants in my suitcase. You can wear a pair if you don’t mind.”
I call behind me, “I’ll grab you a pair, too. You want a T-shirt or sweatshirt?”
“A freaking snowmobile suit.” She sighs.
“Sweatshirt it is.”
I hand her the first ones I find, and then I toss my soaked jeans on the heater and crank it up. I grab the only other pair of sweats in her suitcase. The pink ones.
When she walks out, she looks fucking incredible but exhausted. Then she walks by me, not looking in my direction, and tells me, “You should rinse your shirt. They should be dry in a couple hours. If you want to rest here, you can.”
Hell yes, I do, I think.
Shirt in hand, I hurry into the bathroom, rinse my shirt, wring it out, and then walk back out and throw it over the back of the desk chair before dragging it as close to the heater as I can. When I turn around, she’s snuggled under the covers, completely.
I walk over and sit on the edge of the bed. Crystal blue eyes pop out from under the covers, and she tells me, “There’s a blanket and pillow in the closet.”
When I stand to get them, I hear a soft laugh and look back. “Laugh it up, little Ross. A real man isn’t afraid to wear pink.”
With blanket and pillow in hand, I walk to the side of the bed. “Scoot over a little?”
She shakes her head.
“So, I get the floor?” I laugh, thinking it’s a joke.
It’s not.
I take the floor.
After trying to get comfortable for what seems like hours, Kendall turns off the side lamp.
“Ben?”
“Kendall?”
“Thank you, and I’m sorry.”
“For what? Making me sleep on the floor?”
“It wouldn’t be appropriate.”
I sit up. “You ever sleep in a bed with that Jòse?”
“Of course not,” she says on a yawn.
“Didn’t you date him for a hot minute?” When she doesn’t say anything, I ask another question, which will either be ignored or get me thrown out. “So, you really are still a virgin?”
As expected, she doesn’t answer.
“Not poking fun, Kendall; just trying to understand why you’ve never taken the step.”
She sighs then turns on the light, sits up, and looks down at me. “A million reasons.�
�
“Wanna give me the top ten?”
She holds up one finger. “I don’t want to just sleep with anyone. I want to give that part of me to a person who will cherish me. And before you make a joke about that, I mean for more than ten minutes. Two, I’ve watched people I love nearly break because their relationships were built on attraction, and that’s not going to be a solid enough foundation for me. Three …” She stops, and I see a blush spread across her cheeks.
Sitting up, I say, “Go on.”
“I’ve never felt head-over-heels for someone. Some may think there’s something wrong with me, but—”
“I don’t think there’s a damn thing wrong with you; just trying to understand.”
“I know what I want, and I’m not going to waver.”
I nod, then ask, “What do you want?”
“I want me, and the man I will someday fall in love with, to be best friends but not smother each other.”
“Explain smother each other.”
“If I want to go on a trip for two weeks, I don’t want to be told no, to be made to feel like it’s selfish, or to worry about that person cheating on me. I don’t want to be told what I can and can’t do. If I decide I want to go back to school at thirty-five, even if I have a bunch of kids, I want to be able to do so without feeling guilty.”
“You’re referring to Tessa’s issues with Lucas and your parents’ split.”
She nods.
“And Jòse?”
She hugs her knees and shrugs. “He wanted to do the long-distance thing, and I didn’t. When I changed my mind, he’d already slept with someone else.”
“So, he said no to getting back together?”
“No,” she shakes her head, “I said no. I know that whoever I fall for isn’t going to replace me that quickly.”
“Not trying to stick up for the guy, but you did break up.”
She smiles slightly and shrugs. “And if he truly loved me like he said every time we made out, and he wanted to take it further, he wouldn’t have been able to do that.”
“Sweets, men and women view sex differently.”
She looks down at me. “That’s all well and good, but I’m not looking for sex to come before love.” She lies down and turns her back to me. “I’m looking for one love, and that one love won’t want anyone else but me.”
