“Only if I know you’re okay.”
He gives me a pleading look. “I’m okay.”
I hesitate. I don’t really want to leave him like this, but I’m sure it’s torture for him right now. He probably just wants to bury his face in his pillow and groan with embarrassment. Even though I meant what I said about him not needing to be embarrassed.
Of coursehe’s weird with me the next morning. His father has already left for work when Ben comes down for breakfast and I’ve been answering more of his mother’s questionsfor the past twenty minutes while I eat the fluffiest, most delicious scrambled eggs I’ve ever tasted.
Ben can’t meet my gaze as he takes his seat at the kitchen table and tries not to flinch when his mother ruffles his hair.
He looks sexy with it all mussed like that and I have to remind myself that he’s extremely inexperienced. A casual hookup would probably mean a lot more to him than it would to me.
The first guy I hooked up with, well … I don’t want to think about it. I do not want to be anyone’s first heartbreak.However,I was a lot younger—and way dumber—than Ben when I had my first experience with a guy.
I’m grateful for how chatty Ben’s mother is while we eat, but the second she leaves the table to go change, we’re left alone together. The silence is palpable.
“Ben—”
He cuts me off before I can say anything.
“We should get an early start on the court today.” He puts his fork down even though he’s barely eaten anything. “Mom will want us at her party tonight and prep starts early.”
“Okay.” I nod, deciding I’ll let him talk about it if he wants to and reminding myself that it’s not my business or my problem who Ben Harris does or doesn’t sleep with.
BEN
Nate texted this morning to ask how everything was going with Elias. I wanted so badly to call and tell him what had happened last night. And then the shame washed over me again and I couldn’t do it.
Despite what Elias said, I am embarrassed about how inexperienced I am. I’m a senior in college. The time for allthis fumbling has long passed. I should be an expert at sex by now.
I sent a quick reply to Nate telling him everything’s fine before going downstairs to join my mom and Elias for breakfast. Dad is never here for breakfast—he usually grabs something at the office or has a work breakfast somewhere nearby.
Mom was excited about her party, so she was even more talkative than usual, which helped. Until she left. Then we were stuck in silence.
“We should get an early start on the court today.” I put my fork down, suddenly not hungry anymore. “Mom will want us at her party tonight and prep starts early.”
I haven’t looked at Elias beyond a glance since the second I came downstairs, but now my gaze is dragged towards his face. He looks up at me a little sadly.
“Okay,” he says, collecting himself.
By the time we get out onto the court, he is back to his confident self. I try to take a leaf out of his book, but every time I start to relax, the moment I realized I’d just come in my pants returns to haunt me.
I keep my back to him through some warmups and stretches. The couple of times I turn and catch sight of him accidentally, I regret it. Of course he looks positively pornographic stretching in shorts, his magnificent butt on full display.
We hit a few balls over the net. My mind doesn’t want to focus, and when it’s time to practice my serve, I’m all over the place. Elias is uncharacteristically patient and I start to wonder if he was ever really impatient at all, or if his energy and drive just made him seem that way.
Wasn’t he patient with me last night when I was being a baby and refusing to speak to him?
After I mess up my serve for the hundredth time, Elias finally jogs over to the net to speak to me. No amount of ignoring him is going to work anymore.
I try to keep my head up as I meander over to the net. He has his racket rested on the cable along the top of the mesh. One hand on his hip.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I lie.
He lets out a big sigh. “Let’s just talk about this and get it out in the open.”
“No thanks.” I’m about to jog back to the baseline to continue practicing my serve when he climbs over the net and towers over me.
