“The peace of my office hours was disturbed by a gaggle of undergrads discussing the weekend’s parties and what football and hockey players would be attending which ones. They seemed to have a pretty extensive knowledge of movements and proclivities.”
“Sounds like sound ethnographic researchers in the making if you ask me.”
“I thought so.”
The two of us grin at each other and Ben finishes his smoothie and sets the empty cup down on the counter.
“The two of you are a menace.” He shakes his head, smiling as he grabs his salad out of the fridge to eat with us.
“We know. That’s the beauty of it, Benjamin. Learn to appreciate it.” Joss lets out a dramatic sigh.
“Oh, I do.” His eyes lift a little to meet mine, his lips curling up on one side to make one of his dimples pop.
My heart lays a little punch to my rib cage in response to it, and I was going to have to evaluate that development later.
“You going to come out with me tonight?” Joss asks as we finish up dinner.
“I don’t know. Let me take a shower and see how I feel? It’s been a long day, and I just want to like drink half a bottle of rosé and melt into a long sleep. But maybe I’ll rally?”
“Fair enough. You want to come out with me tonight, Benjamin? I can take you to a fun little place with whips and chains. You can try getting tied up or tied down. Or are you going to be boring and go make your blonde sorority girls happy?” Joss asks him but slips me a look, letting me know she’s prying so I don’t have to.
“I might just stay in tonight.” He shrugs, washing his silverware out in the sink.
“And break everyone’s heart? How cruel.” Joss gives him a mock little pout before taking off toward her room.
“Let me know the plan, Vi! The whips and chains offer stands for you too. I know the perfect guy who might be able to wake you up with some light paddling,” she calls before she shuts her door.
I laugh to myself and start gathering up my stuff to head to my room, but Ben clears his throat interrupting my progress. He leans on the counter in front of the sink, the tension of his shirt highlights his back muscles in a way that’s entirely distracting, and my mind wanders back to the other night.
“I left something on your bed. You can ignore it… if you want,” he says the words quietly, and there’s a strained quality to them that makes me nervous.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. It’s good.” He nods, but he still doesn’t look at me.
I feel uneasy as I go to my room, worried I’m going to find the worst. Not that I even know what that would be.
I close the door behind me, turning to see a pile of books on the bed, nestled on top of a folded shirt. I pick them up, and a note falls off the top of the pile onto the bed. I pick it up to read it.
Hit the bookstore again. For research. Your choice. Top one sounds good though, and Signs is on streaming. Tonight?
The books are all new, a half dozen bookmarks in them, and I can imagine that they’re the work of his helpful bookstore fairy again. I set them aside and pull the shirt out, realizing it’s a jersey. One of his I assume, and obvious when I see his name on the back. I frown, trying to discern the context.
I reach for the book that had been on the top and turn to the spot where there’s a lone bookmark. I start skimming and it’s an insanely hot scene about a woman and her hockey player roommate. She’s stolen his jersey because she has a secret crush, and he finds her wearing it watching a movie and slips her out of her panties before saying a word.
I slam the book closed and press it to my chest, staring down at the jersey and the note he wrote, putting the pieces together, becauseSignswas one of our favorite movies to watch in the Lawton family room on late summer nights. My skin heats at the idea of him touching me, because for all the times we casually touch during the day, we never have in the context of… this. Whateverthis, is.
What are we doing? I want to ask him, but I don’t want to have the conversation. I don’t want to expose the fun we’re having to the cold light of analysis. Except then he’d seemed off after dinner. Told me I could ignore it. I wondered if he was having second thoughts about the suggestion. But the ball is in my court, and I have to decide; talk to him. Don’t talk to him. Put the jersey on. Don’t. I pinch my eyes shut and rub my temples. Whatever I do, I have to take a shower first, so I opt to kick the decision down the road and worry about what to do after.
When I get out of the shower, Joss is waiting for me. She’s already dressed up in tight pleather leggings and a corset top with macabre jewelry dangling down over the front in a bizarre mix of club wear meets Memento Mori fashion.
“You look hot,” I say.
“On the hunt for a new guy. The last one finally bailed on me when I wouldn’t commit on his time schedule. Want to come hunt with me?”
“I don’t know. I’m still thinking. Don’t hate me.”
She gives me a little judgmental look. “I guess I can’t blame you. If I had one that looks like that living next door that already answered when I called…”
