Authors: Evan Reeves
He laughed.
“That would seem sensible, wouldn't it?” Ben sighed a little. “But I am glad you came over. I do need to tell you something.”
“Bad news?”
Ben shook his head, but his expression was far from reassuring.
“Not exactly, though not necessarily ideal,” he said. “I'll be leaving at the end of the semester to spend a month in in California. We're at the last stretch of filming, and I would be there to offer input. They offered me the opportunity, and I'd like to take it.”
“It makes sense,” I said, although the thought of him being away for a month sent an immediate stabbing sensation through my chest. I fought to keep my composure, reminding myself that
yes
, I am an adult.
No
, I will not allow myself to get emotional. “If I wrote a book that was being made into a movie, I'd want to be there, too. Especially if it means this much to you.”
He nodded. I took a sip of my tea, wincing at the scalding temperature as it burned down my throat. Setting the mug down on the counter, I walked over and rested my head against his chest, his stiff stance weakening beneath me.
“Do you have any plans made yet?” he asked, his breath tickling through my hair. “For after the semester ends.”
“No,” I answered. “Though I'm contemplating whether or not I'd be better suited in a large television box, or a refrigerator box.”
Ben laughed. I did, too. Because it was a little bit funny.
“You know, if I won't be here, you're welcome to stay.”
I pulled away, and he looked down at me.
“I swear that this isn't some sort of cunning sorcery to suade you into my home so that I can keep you prisoner in my basement,” he grinned.
“Help,” I said firmly. “This would be another form of
help
, I assume.”
“If you'd feel better giving something in return, you're welcome to keep up with maintaining the property. Keeping the space clean, making sure the lawn is tended to once the snow has melted and the grass grows in.”
I stepped back a few paces, crossing my arms. It's not that I wanted to seem rude, or skeptical – but was this acceptable?
“I just don't know,” I said. “I mean, you and I...I'm not even sure what this is. And the thought of living here, in this place...”
Stopping myself, I took a quick breath, trying to sort through my words so that they didn't come tumbling out in a nonsensical mess.
“You're my professor,” I finally said. Ben smiled weakly. “At least, for the next few months.”
“I know,” he said. “But I like you. I like you a lot, Gemma. I know that we didn't exactly plan on the circumstances unfolding the way that they did, but there's nothing that either you or myself can do about it. You and I are completely star-crossed.”
“No Shakespeare,” I begged. “For the love of all things holy. This is
not
start Romeo and Juliet. I do hope that you aren't planning on offing yourself.”
He chuckled.
“If nothing else, consider this an act of friendship. A friend helping a friend.”
I looked at him, locking eyes and feeling my face grow hot.
“But I don't want to be just your
friend
, Ben.”
And there it was. Word flying from my mouth like unexpected missiles launching into the air.
I dropped my eyes to the ground, unable to say anything else.
“I've never felt this careless before in my entire life,” he said quietly. “It's stupid, I know. I mean, this is my job – temporary position or otherwise. But I look at you, and I just can't help but feel a pull that calls for me to come closer while at the same time screams for me to stay away. I meant it when I said that you were an enigma.”
“I'm not so mysterious,” I muttered, finally deciding to look up at him. His eyes were wide as silver dollars, warm and wavering. He lifted my chin with his fingertips, smiling his half-smile. I couldn't help but follow, too.
“Consider the offer, at least?”
“I'll consider it,” I told him. “On one condition.”
“Anything.”
I smiled.
“Brandon gets to stay, too.”
We both laughed, and I immediately envisioned Brandon walking around McMansion and yelling at the top of his lungs just to hear the sound echo. Playing Ghost Hunter even though there were no ghosts to hunt. Insisting, probably during the hours where I was trying to sleep, that he heard strange noises. Oh, and not to mention the large staircase that lead from the first floor and stretched to the top floor. He would likely attempt to slide down the railing. And probably fall.
Taking my hand, Ben pressed his lips to my skin with a soft kiss.
“Could I fancy you in a tour of the rest of this place?”
“Is there anything to actually see?”
“It's called imagination, Gemma.”
If he wasn't so completely kind and also attractive, I would have playfully elbowed him for his sly remark. With my hand still wrapped in his, he led me around the rest of the mansion that carried the same empty, almost lonely sort of air. Each room was stunning, even if the pieces that made up the room – a single chair, or several paintings set down on the floor – were scant.
Walking up the steps, I peeked into a library that contained shelves and shelves of books. A desk was situated in the corner, right beneath a small window that I couldn't quite look out of. It was much too high for my vertically-challenged stature.
“This is my office,” he said, sounding pleased. “It's quite honestly the only room that I've given any real care towards. The rest of them, as I'm sure you can see, have suffered.”
“There's still such a tremendous story to it all, though,” I said. “Like you could write an entire book centered around this house.”
“That's an intriguing idea,” he smirked. As we walked down the hall, my feet stopped at the threshold of a bedroom. Inside there was a single bed, a golden coverlet draped lazily across. A beautifully worn dresser sat against the wall.
And above the dresser, I saw, was the drawing I'd made of Ben. Framed, nonetheless.
I took a step further, my feet crossing the invisible line between hallway and bedroom.
“You actually bothered to keep it.”
There was no way of hiding the astonishment I felt. That's not to say that I felt my work was worthless, of course. But all things considered, that particular drawing of Ben felt slight in comparison to what I
knew
I was possible of creating. However, Ben appeared entirely unphased and completely delighted.
“Oh, yes. I love it. You're the first person that's ever bothered drawing me before.”
He was giddy as a schoolboy, and I swear, I nearly melted. Seating myself down at the edge of his bed, I gazed across the room as he remained in the doorway, his dark eyes narrowed just slightly.
“I'm not sure that this is the best place for the two of us to be,” he said, his tone low. “Especially since I haven't exactly been able to shake the lingering withdrawal of having not kissed you in what feels like ages.”
“A little melodramatic, don't you think?” I asked.
He smiled. Sweet and boyish and just a teensy bit playful.
“Some things cannot be helped.”
He slid over and sat down beside me, leaning in and kissing me on the cheek. His breath was soft, quickening almost immediately as his hand reached across to pull my hair aside. Slowly, his lips traced across my jaw and down my neck, his tongue grazing lightly just behind my ear in a way that made me want to pin him down right there on the bed and at the same time, run for the hills. It was borderline frightening just how badly I wanted him. My hands moved up his biceps, the muscles beneath my palms tensing as I found my way beneath his shirt and my fingernails dug just barely into his skin. He groaned, his mouth still on my neck as he responded with even harder kisses, his teeth skimming over the most delicate of spots, biting down and pinching in a deliciously reeling pain.
When his mouth met mine, it was like a shot straight into the vein of the sweetest, most foreign drug. His lips crushed against my own, his tongue skillful and timid, each kiss gentler than the next. We were both overthrown with desire, my body aching and hormones begging for him to just rip into me. But he didn't. He wouldn't.
As he drew away, his breath ragged, I relished the glimpse of that wicked grin and dark flicker in his gaze.
“I still remember, you know,” he whispered. “How I felt inside of you. How you looked, naked and totally vulnerable. God, it was sexy.”
Pulling me onto his lap, I resented the layers between us. The fabric that kept us at such a horrible, horrible distance even though we had our hands and mouths and for some, that's enough. For us, it should have been.
But I still wanted all of him. Every part of him. And even then, I knew it wouldn't be enough.
I kissed him again, my arms wrapping around his neck as he pulled me closer. We fell back on the bed, smiling and dazed despite the lust that was coursing through me. All of my nerves, like the wick of a candle, were set aflame.
“Spend the night?” Ben asked quietly, taking a deep breath. Closing his eyes, he took a few seconds to calm himself down. Like droplets of water over hot embers, he was slowly falling back into reality. “Just next to me. No intimacy. Just sleep.”
“You do realize that you're probably the first man to ever utter those words?”
“Even so,” he said. “We need to wait. Even if hell, we've already sprinted over the moral lines here...It's the right thing to do.”
I couldn't ignore the shred of disappointment in his voice. He sat up, unzipping his pants and letting them fall to the grown. Stepping out of them, he walked over to his dresser where he pulled out a large, plain white undershirt and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms. Tossing the shirt to me, he shimmied into the bottoms and motioned for me to get dressed. So I did, letting him look all he wanted as I eased out of my jeans and pulled the shirt over my head.
I decided, wickedly, to keep my bra and panties on. Ben's smile only grew wider.
“You are the epitome of evil,” he said, sighing heavily. “Would you like to go downstairs and watch a movie? I have a pretty extensive selection.”
I shook my head, clambering across the comforter and sliding beneath the blankets. Yanking the sheets up to my chin, I smiled.
“No,” I said. “I'd rather you read to me, actually.”
“Read?” he asked, understandably perplexed. “What book?”
Stretching my arms wide, I giggled as Ben ran over and jumped on the bed, diving into my arms that couldn't wrap themselves quickly enough around him. Nuzzling against his chest, I said:
“Yours.”
Ben pulled away, an eyebrow raised. However, when I didn't budge, he slinked away and returned from his office with a copy of
Sideways.
Covering himself up with the blankets and letting me snuggle up against him. It was, I can only imagine, the next perfect thing that we would share aside from the moment that we finally would come together. Not tonight, perhaps. But
not tonight
did not mean
never
.
And so I simply savored the moment. Closing my eyes, with one hand in Ben's as he flipped through the pages, I succumbed to the sound of his voice as he read:
“
Her hair danced in the wind that gave life to the trees and other things, too. I could only wonder if we could truly stay this way forever...
”
That's when I realized, as I slowly drifted into the currents of sleep to the sounds of Ben's gentle voice, that I was really falling for him. Whether I wanted to or not.
FIFTEEN
When I opened my eyes, he was there. Right next to me. Awake and smiling just a little from the corner of his mouth as he turned the page of a magazine. I reached over, touching his hand and brushing my fingers against his wrist. The light from the drawn windows deceptively shrouded by the drawn blinds.
Ben looked at me, glasses perched on the tip of his nose.
It was beautiful.
“What's one of your biggest quirks?” he asked quietly, his words still weighed down with sleepy dreams. Sitting up, I shrugged lightly. Tired. A simple
good morning
would have probably been a better entry into conversation.
“Film trailers,” I told him. “I like to watch film trailers. The same ones. Over and over again. I literally obsess over whatever film trailer I can't stop watching until the movie is finally released.”
“I'm tempted to say that you've fallen into the trap called Misuse of Literally.”
“No,” I said. “I really mean it. This isn't a figuratively sort of thing. I literally obsess.”
Ben cracked a grin, and I shoved him gently.
“What about you?” I asked, and Ben furrowed his brow in thought.
“You need to swear that whatever I disclose will remain in confidence,” he said. “No snitching.”
“Promise,” I swore. “No snitching.”
I sat up, wiggling out from the covers and pulling my bare legs to my chest. Ben leaned in, kissing my forehead gently. I couldn't help but blush.
“I don't like the crusts on my sandwiches,” he admitted. “I cut them off.”
“You're kidding,” I laughed. “How old are you again?”
Ben made a lip-zipping motion.
“Whatever! You promised. Don't be a promise breaker.”
Tossing the magazine aside, he kissed me. Quick and sweet. Glancing at the clock that sat atop the single, tiny nightstand, I yawned.
“I should probably get going before Brandon really starts wondering where I've been.”
I tumbled off the bed, yanking the shirt from over my head and groping around the floor until I finally found my jeans and top. When I was dressed, Ben didn't budge, teetering the glasses on his fingers with a small pout as he said:
“But it's still morning. You don't really need to leave yet, do you?”
Pulling my socks on, I slid over to the bed (literally, since the floors were a fantastically slick hard-wood) and gave him a peck on the cheek.
“Don't you have papers to grade, professor? Stop slacking and get to work.”
Grumbling, he stood and stretched and threw on a sweatshirt that had been laying in a crumpled heap on the floor. Together we walked down the steps, I watched him make himself a cup of coffee, and afterward he led me to the door and hugged me for a really long time, his chin resting on my head in a way that made me feel protected and warm and just overall safe. Sometimes I feel like simple embraces are vastly underrated.
“There's something that feels so good about sharing these little moments with someone,” he said quietly. “It's just been a really long time since I've been stirred up like this.”
“I know what you mean,” I said. His hands still holding my arms, he drew away by a few inches, leaning down so that the tip of his nose pressed against mine.
“And I promise not to tell any of the students about your crust-less sandwiches.”
We shoved each other playfully, and Ben swiped my coat from the hanger, draping it around my shoulders and ensuring that the buttons were properly done up. He even fetched me a scarf, insisting that it was far too cold to go outside with just a coat.
I scurried home quickly, glad that the apartment was only a minute's skip away. When I opened the door, I tossed my coat and the scarf on the counter, sighed deeply, and rubbed my eyes.
“Somebody was gone
all night
,” Brandon echoed from his bedroom. I trudged over, peeking in and finding Brandon cozied up in bed, the glow of his laptop screen making his face look strangely ghoulish. “Where were you?”
“Take a wild guess.”
“Damn,” he whistled. “Well, what did you guys do? Give me all the details. Actually, don't give me all the details. There are some images that I just won't benefit from conjuring up.”
“Well we didn't have sex, if that's what you mean.”
“Good.” He moved his laptop aside, throwing himself across the bed. “So do you want to know how my night went?”
“Yes!” I beamed. “Tell me everything. Was he amazing?”
“Very amazing. More than amazing.”
And there it was: Brandon lit up like a zillion fireworks. “We went and played pool and then had dinner at this fantastic little joint around the corner. Nothing fancy. But I think I preferred it that way.”
“Sometimes fancy is overrated,” I added.
“Yeah. I think so, too. I mean, that's not to say that I don't at all enjoy the idea of quaint little French eateries with candles and a foreign film sort of date. But, like, I guess I just get it, you know? The whole initial parade that is the start of a new relationship. Everyone is on their toes, looking their best, striving to impress. Plus, we're both broke. That might also have come into play.”
He shrugged, sitting up and nudging me on the shoulder.
“He's just a really nice, average, sweet guy. I like him. I think I really like him, actually. Oh! Speaking of dates, or outings, or whatever – Sacha's on his way here.”
“Wait,” I stifled a groan. “Like, right now?”
“Yeah, I told him he could come over. He said you left in a hurry yesterday, for reasons that we're both obviously aware of. Either way, I mean, it doesn't really matter, right?”
Oh, sweet Jesus
. I glanced at my phone. If my calculations were correct, and Sacha had left around the same time that I'd left Ben's, I'd have approximately a half hour before his arrival. Jumping up, I dove into the bathroom, quickly showered, threw the cleanest clothes (a plain black long-sleeve and a tattered pair of Levis), and dried my hair. I only bothered to flat-iron the bangs, letting my wild (albeit very smooth and soft and shiny) waves fall free.
Whatever,
I thought.
This will have to do
.
I could hear voices from the living room when I emerged; Brandon standing in the doorway with the door creaked just slightly open. Sacha pushed his way in, giving Brandon his best death-stare.
“Sacha,” Brandon grimaced. “That scarf makes me want to punch you in your precious, stupid face.”
“What's wrong with my scarf?” he asked, offended. “It's freaking cold out, Brandon. Shut up.”
“Why are there anchors all over it, though? You aren't a sailor. You're a camera-wielding hipster jerk with Hiccup hair.”
“
Hiccup
hair?”
“Yeah, I watched How to Train Your Dragon the other night. You literally look just like the main character guy.”
“Whatever.”
Sacha crossed his arms, glaring as Brandon stood with a goofy smile on his face.
“I think you mean figuratively, Brando.” I interrupted, clearing my throat. “Hiccup wasn't actually real.”
“Yeah. You're right. The animated guy was a lot better looking.”
Hoping to break the tension, even if it was just in jest (and Sacha had already jumped on Brandon and the two of them were punching each other) I grabbed my coat and rapped my knuckle against the wall.
Sacha looked over, his face flushed.
“Wanna go to the mall?” I asked. Sacha grinned.
“Sure,” he said, then looked back at Brandon. “Wanna to come with us?”
“No thanks. I'd rather stay at home and stare at the walls while listening to N Sync. Literally, not figuratively.” Brandon said. “You know how I feel about the mall.”
Case in point: Brandon hated the mall. Or more specifically, he just hated most people that walked around the mall. And by most people, that really just meant everyone. So Sacha helped him up, and I reminded him that in the event he was hungry, we had frozen pizza in the fridge.
“You're not my mom,” he lamented. “You're just my roommate.”
So I smiled, and Brandon's mouth twitched a little at the corner, and together Sacha and I stormed out of the apartment and into the outside that was literally freezing, but more like figuratively.
“I hate stuff sometimes,” Sacha mumbled, fumbling with the radio as I fumbled with the heat. I nodded in agreement.
“Me too.”
As we walked, side by side, Sacha held his camera gingerly while quietly surveying the surroundings. This quickly made me note (silently) that it was probably a good thing that Brandon hadn't tagged along. Mostly because Sacha's expensive camera would have ended up on the ground and also in pieces.
And me? I was holding a giant pretzel that was coated with salty deliciousness.
“So have you figured out what pieces you're going to use for the end of semester gallery?” he asked, snapping a photo of a couple that was walking many paces ahead of us. They were holding hands, dressed in black, resembling shadows. It made me just slightly sad in the kind of way that quickly evaporates after the sad-inducing-object disappears. “I've nearly finished my arrangement of photos. I'm feeling pretty good about it, honestly.”
“That's awesome,” I told him. “And I'm kind of starting to figure it out. I have a lot to work with, at least.”
A lot to work with
essentially translated into
I've contemplated absolutely nothing
. The one thing that I could take any comfort in was that yeah, I had a million pieces of work laying around. I had more than an ample variety to work with when it came to the end of semester gallery, where my work would be displayed to the entire student body – which in my tiny mind, was kind of like the world. Still, I wasn't satisfied. I'll repeat: humans kind of suck in the satisfaction department.
“Yeah,” Sacha mumbled. Eventually the two of us, given that we never actually
shopped
in any of the mall stores, ended up seated on one of those little benches by the in-mall playground, where a few kids were screaming over who got to ride the machine-operated dinosaur next.
The whole shopping thing likely also had something to do with the fact that I worked at this particular mall. We simply avoided that section. And the floor, too.
“How's Travis?” I asked, taking a bite of my pretzel, chewing, and swallowing. “I still feel so bad about just kind of leaving him.”
“He's fine. There was pizza. I'd say he wasn't too traumatized by the whole event.”
“Good.”
We sat quietly as Sacha sifted through his photos and I finished the last of my baked carbohydrates coated in sodium and buttery goodness. Then, because I can't quite ever let things drop, I opened my mouth to talk about the Night of the Closet:
“About the whole Seven Minutes in Heaven thing...” I started, and Sacha immediately perked up. So much so that he actually powered down his camera and averted his attention entirely to me. “I'm really hoping that it's not going to make things terribly awkward between us forever. You know I love you, Sacha. You're my best friend. And you're Brandon's best friend, too. We're a trio. And I'd just hate for one kiss to kind of deteriorate such an awesome triangle of awesome.”
“Awesome triangle of awesome,” Sacha laughed a little. “You're starting to sound about as pretentious as me.”
“You aren't that pretentious.”
He gave a small smile. Just a little one.
“I kind of am. Just a tad.”
I crumpled up my pretzel wrapper and attempted to toss it from my distance (of approximately five feet or so) into the trash ban. This failed miserably, and resulted in two of the tiny playground children laughing at me with their tiny children laughs that made me feel embarrassed and kind of like I'd never want children ever in my entire life. Even so, I went and picked up the wrapper and tossed it into its final resting place.
“I get that you're still a little torn up over Toby and everything,” Sacha continued after I'd returned from my dumb little quest. He was wrong, but I didn't say anything right then. “I'm still okay with you being in a floating stage and all.”
“About the floating stage,” I sighed. “It's not really a floating stage anymore. Well, sort of.”
“I'm not sure what
sort of
means.”
“It means that the foundation of where I'm standing when it comes to my current feelings about people and relationships is just slightly stronger. Just slightly, though.”
I added the last bit, even though I knew it wouldn't really mean anything. Not to Sacha. He wasn't an obtuse, totally clueless hipster. He was actually the smart, cunning, witty kind.
“I would really like to interpret this in one of those ways where the guy asks the girl if this could
possibly
mean that there's a chance for them to end up together. Like some fucking big-budget movie and everything,” Sacha's voice quieted. “But that's really not the case here, is it?”