When I’m done touching up my makeup, I throw on a leather jacket, then I head back to the living room.
Ben is lounging on the couch. His lanky legs are outstretched on the coffee table as he mindlessly scrolls through his phone. Music plays softly from his phone. Some song I don’t know, but he seems to as he hums along to it.
“Ready?” I ask.
He glances up at me, locking his phone. His eyes roam over my body, as if he hasn’t already seen me tonight. Resting on my face, as he pushes himself to his feet.
“If you are.” The music stops on his phone as he slides it into his pockets. “You look really good in a plaid skirt. Giving me all kinds of high school flashbacks.” He smirks.
“Are you driving?”
“I had planned on it, yeah.”
“But you plan on drinking tonight.”
“Yes. But not a lot.”
“What do you consider a lot?”
“Last night comes close.”
“That was a little more than a lot in my book.”
“Yeah? Would you feel more comfortable if I ordered us a car?”
“Yes.”
“I’m insulted that you’d think I’d risk your life, but fine.”
“I don’t think you’d see it as a risk until it ended badly, but with our combine finances there is no reason to drink and drive.”
“Okay.” He rolls his eyes. “I’ll call us a car then.”
“I can pay.”
“I don’t need your money, Prue.” He grins. “But I do need a cigarette, so why don’t we wait outside.”
The air is chilly tonight, and I pull my leather jacket tightly around my body, ignoring the soreness in my back from when Charles shoved me into the wall. I try to push all thoughts of him out of my mind as Ben inhales his cigarette, staring off toward the street.
I can’t take my eyes off him. It’s halfway past seven. All the streetlights have turned on, even though the sun isn’t completely down. They illuminate Ben and me. For some reason they make him look way too hot for his own good.
It’s not like I didn’t already know what girls saw in him, but after everything that has happened tonight, watching him smoke a cigarette in the evening night just makes him look…attractive.
His black denim jacket is unbuttoned, showing off a black band tee of some band I never heard up. Tight black skinny jeans hug his body, tucked into black doc martens. His blond hair is a mess like always. Strands blowing every way in the light breeze.
I never got to picture myself with anyone other than stuck up rich guys. The tiny taste of freedom I have right now, has me wondering if I could be a rock star’s girlfriend. Not that that would be Ben. I don’t think he is the commitment type.
“You shouldn’t smoke.” I cut through the silence.
“Why not?” His eyes dart to me.
“It’s bad for you.”
“I think a lot of what I do is bad for me.”
“But smoking is a like really bad. It leads to lung cancer and taints the tips of your fingers.”
“It’s not that bad, compared to the other things I have put in my body.”
