I don’t need to keep up with Ben.
I won’t disappoint him because he’s not expecting me toactuallybe his partner. I’m not truly putting everything into this relationship. So I won’t lose everything this time. I won’t lose my apartment, my friends, myself. Or my heart.
This isn’t real.
So I will be fine.
Just have to stay detached, away from thoughts about wanting to be kissed or wanting to make him lose his train of thought. Wanting to reach my hands up under that vest and feel his firmchest with both hands. Wanting to text him random things, or worse, call him about them, throughout the week, just to see his reaction…
Ugh, will I ever learn my lesson?
I blink hard and breathe deep.
Yes. Ihavelearned my lesson. I need to keep myself focused on the goal. The money to keep Gran’s care. Fix her house, sell it off and right my embarrassing wrongs. Stop the incessant text messages. Eye on the prize and fake it through the next fifty-seven days.
22
BEN
“Same as last night, then?” I ask from the hallway, trying to sound nonchalant. When really I’m nothing but chalant. Whatever the hell the opposite of nonchalant is.
This is really starting to get to me. Teasing conversations that barely scratch her surface. Tight little outfits that make me physically ache to touch her. Short little kisses that only make me want more.
More more more more
I need to find a bloody Valium.
“I don’t think that’s necessary, let’s just go,” she says, stepping out in…a black leather one piece thing.
“Fuck me sideways and twice on Tuesday.”
She laughs.
I struggle to breathe.
“And yesterday you said…so I can’t…” My hands flex with the desire to do all the groping and grabbing she’s expressly forbidden. “Am I being punished for something?” I grumble.
She sighs with a smile, “For insisting you wanted to go as Batman, maybe. Did you not think I’d wear something like this to be Cat Woman?”
“I…I...” I can’t really think. Or rather, can’t say any of my thoughts out loud. Her suit dips low showing cleavage I want to lick, the leather stretches tight against her glorious legs…and…well, I’m not asking her to turn this time. I’m not that much of a masochist.
“Let’s roll, Bruce.” I freeze as she passes me, then am physically pained at the sight of her backside swaying in front of me in that tight, shiny fabric.
She’s surprisingly cheery for how much she claims to hate socializing, given this is our second night out in a row. Last night was actually brilliant, until the end. I kept a hand on her waist or shoulder or arm at all times and she never pulled away. She laughed at my silly jokes. Accepted a kiss without warning. Dazzled co-workers and even managed to make small talk and white lies without mucking up the English language.
I thought we were becoming a team. Real friends. Partners in this.
But then in the end she shut me down, or maybe rather shut downonme because of the late hour, but it felt like the former. Like something about me, about us—the us we felt like last night, out together, at least to me—it got under her skin and settled there, bothering her for the whole drive home.
“You know this is going to be nothing like last night, right?” She asks over her shoulder as we near the car. Nigel sees her in the doorway and quickly turns to climb in his vehicle.Good man.
Wait, not that I mind if other men look. I mean, I never have before. I pull at my shirt that suddenly seems to be choking me. Right, no, I don’t mind.
I’ve never been the jealous type. I appreciate beauty and understand that others will as well. I rather trend the other direction, happy to show off my dates in all their glory. Tonight will be no different. Janie looks like every man’s secret comic book fantasy come to life, they’re going to look. Fine.
I reach up and loosen my tie.
Maybe all my extra workouts are finally paying off.
