“I baked a lot when Li left. It soothed me. In my anger management group, they suggested we find a hobby. So I baked.”
I had been hoping that this topic wouldn’t come up tonight. I didn’t mean to be selfish, but this was our first date, and the first attempt at any kind of an “us.” Our lives were both so complicated, but just for tonight, I wanted to forget all that. I wanted to pretend it didn’t exist. Fortunately, Ben was way ahead of me.
“But I don’t want to talk about stuff like that tonight,” he said with a reassuring smile. “Clean slate!” he quickly added.
“What do you want to talk about then?” I said and popped in another warm mouthful of chocolate.
Ben flashed me a naughty look. “How amazing you look in that dress. It should be illegal to dress like that, you know.”
I blushed. Ben had a way of making me feel like the most beautiful woman alive, something I’d never felt before.
“Why do you look like you don’t quite believe me?” he asked.
“I suppose a part of me doesn’t.”
“You’re beautiful, Sera,” he said, gazing at me disarmingly. “Everyone can look good covered in make-up,” he said, “but not everyone can look as good as you do in glasses and a ponytail. Not to mention cute and sexy all at the same time.”
“That’s not what I looked like the first time you met me,” I said with a slight laugh.
“True.” He looked like he was considering this for a moment. “But I’m also fond of the pay-by-the-hour look.”
“What?” I gasped and burst out laughing.
My laugh tapered off and our eyes met with a jolt. I’ve never received an electric shock, but this was pretty damn close.
“So, are you in love with me yet?” Ben asked with a devilish smirk smeared across his face.
I blinked at him. “Uh, no.”
“Well, if you’re not now, you will be after the next course.” He got up again and walked back to the kitchen.
54. Cool-Uncool-I-Am-So-Cool
“Oh God,” I moaned loudly. “I don’t think I can breathe.” I was pulling at my dress, trying to make some space between it and my skin. The three dessert courses, which I’d polished off—I had practically licked the bowl—were taking their toll, especially on the already too-tight dress. Ben smiled as I lowered myself onto the couch with great difficulty and the grace of a large walrus.
“No, I’m being serious,” I urged. “I don’t think I can breathe.” I grabbed at my ribs, which felt like they were being crushed. “Unzip me, please.” I tried to roll over, it was very ungraceful. “I swear I’m going to faint, or something.”
Ben jumped up and went to work on the back of my dress. I sighed loudly as he unzipped me and I could suddenly breathe again. My stomach also finally had the space it needed to pop out.
“So Victorian of you, Sera,” Ben said as he dragged his fingertips over my exposed back. “Soon I’ll be getting out the smelling salts when you have a fit of the vapors.” He lowered his lips to the back of my neck and kissed me, moving across my shoulders.
“Or not.” His voice dripped with sex. “Maybe I won’t resuscitate you and I’ll just have my way with you instead.” His kisses moved back to my neck and then started creeping down my spine.
“That’s disgustingly pervy,” I whispered.
“I can beverypervy, Sera. Just wait and see.” He had a smile in his voice, but it almost sounded like a threat—a threat I hoped he would carry out. “So you know I totally lied when I said I was going to have you home by twelve.”
“Really?”
“I thought we could go out, have a few drinks, hit the dance floor. You know, a trip down memory lane.”
I did like a good dance, and images of that first time Ben and I danced together flooded my mind. “Why not!” I said. “As long as I can change out of this dress.” I got up, holding the dress up so it wouldn’t fall down.
“Will you wear that blue sequined thing again?”
“Absolutely not,” I said. Then I smiled at him and walked out.
An hour later we were deposited at the bar area of one of Jo’burg’s trendiest clubs—in that non-cool-non-trendy sense. It was a place crawling with creatives from the film, advertising and art industries. To be honest, places like this always left me feeling uneasy, a less-than outsider. People walked around in clothes that cost more than my entire wardrobe, clothes that ironically were designed to look old and second-hand as if the wearer didn’t care what they wore (only, they all cared very deeply)—Why buy new clothes that look that old?
