by Liz Durano
“Ah, shit. He okay?”
“He got a black eye but he says the other guy had it worse.”
I slip one leg into my jeans and then the other. Forget two-step. If she wants to hang out and watch paint dry, then we watch paint dry. “Why don’t I come over and pick you up in a few minutes? Just dress casual. We don’t even have to go out. We could just hang out here and talk if you want.”
“That would be nice.”
“I can be there in fifteen… twenty minutes.”
I make it to her house in twenty minutes and find her standing outside her front door. There’s a black SUV parked in the driveway that wasn’t there that afternoon. She’s wearing jeans, a long-sleeved shirt over a black top and cowboy boots. As she pulls open the passenger door, I can see that her eyes are puffy.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better now that you’re here,” she says as she settles herself on the seat and pulls the seat belt across her torso. “I do have to warn you about my curfew. Dad says I need to be home before two or he’ll send his security people over to your place.”
“You’re serious?” I ask as Sarah nods. “Then two it is. Don’t want you to turn into a pumpkin or anything.”
“Thanks, Benny.”
“Have you had dinner?” I ask as I turn the key in the ignition. “We can get something to go–”
“Wait. What happened to your arm?” she asks, her gaze on the hastily wrapped gauze I’d bandaged around my arm. “And what happened to the dressing from yesterday? And is that blood? Did you cut open your stitches?”
I shrug, the wound throbbing now although this time, it has nothing to do with the tetanus shot. I forgot all about that the round with the bag.
“Guess I did.”
“Benny, we need to fix that. You’re going to get that cut infected,” she says, her tone scolding. “We should go to the Emergency Room and have someone stitch it back together.”
I shake my head. “No more emergency rooms for me. Not tonight.”
“Then I need to get some steri-strip skin closures for that.”
“Steri-what?”
Sarah rolls her eyes. “Just get us to a pharmacy, Benny. They’ll have what I need so I can fix you.”
At the stoplight I turn to look at her. “Did you get to talk to your dad?”
She takes a deep breath and nods. “I’ll tell you all about it after I fix you.”
Half an hour later, we’re back at my condo with a shopping bag full of medical supplies and two dinners-to-go from a nearby restaurant. I’m glad to see Sarah smiling again although the moment we head to the guest bathroom, she’s on full nurse mode as she instructs me to stand against the counter. After washing her hands and putting on sterile gloves, she sets to work, first unwrapping the gauze bandage I’d hastily wrapped around my arm and grimacing when she sees the mess I made with the wound glue.
“I can’t believe you decided to go for a round with the punching bag. You tore two stitches. Nothing major but still…” She pulls out a bottle of antiseptic from the paper bag, sets it on the counter, and rips the plastic cover off a roll of gauze. “We just need to make sure it doesn’t get infected.”
“I’ll do everything you say from here on, Nurse Sarah.”
She glares at me before disinfecting the wound, the sharp sting making me cross-eyed for a moment and she chuckles. “That’s what you get for not following instructions the first time.”
“Your skills would come in handy during a zombie apocalypse, you know,” I murmur when she’s almost done closing up the busted stitches using the steri-strips.
“You’re not supposed to do anything strenuous, Benny.” She wraps the bandage around my arm a lot more securely and neatly than I did earlier. “You could have torn open the whole incision.”
“But I didn’t,” I say. “I’ve also got you.”
Still leaning with my back against the counter, I’ve been aware of how close she’s standing since she started dressing my wound. I’ve been watching her bite her lower lip as she concentrates on each step that only she knows by rote. Hell, I don’t remember anything about first aid right now other than maybe I should get injured more often. Maybe then I’d feel her fingers pressing against my skin, her focus directed solely on me.
But that was minutes ago. As Sarah pulls away to inspect her handiwork now protected under a film of a plastic-like material that she says will allow me to jump in the shower without having to worry about my bandages getting wet, there is nothing else to distract me from her. Right now, there’s only her.
“That should do,” she says, peeling off her sterile gloves and tossing them in the trash can next to the counter. “I should write down the instructions for you in case you forget. No strenuous activities like boxing or heaven knows what else you decide to do.”
“Sex?” I ask as she glares at me. “Just kidding.”
“I’m serious, Benny,” she says, reaching behind me to gather the wrappers from the counter. “It could have been worse. You could have opened that incision completely and I’d have to take you to the Emergency Room.”
As her body brushes across my side, the scent of her hair hitting me in the gut, my stomach clenching, I remind myself to calm the hell down.
Too bad my mouth has other ideas.
“You’re a very beautiful woman, Sarah,” I murmur as she steps back and tosses the wrappers in the trash. “Inside and out.”
One corner of her mouth curls upward but she eyes me suspiciously. “Yeah. Right.”
I bring my hand up, my fingers brushing against her cheek. “I mean it. Don’t let anyone make you believe any different,” I say as our eyes meet and she holds my gaze. It’s only for a split second, the connection I’ve been waiting for since yesterday morning but as quickly as it comes, it’s gone.
“Dinner’s getting cold, Benny, and your stomach has been growling for the last ten minutes so I know you’re hungry,” she says, her voice softening. “But thank you for saying what you just said. It’s nice to hear that now and then, especially when I know you mean it.”
“Then I should say it more often so you’ll believe it.”
She pauses, chuckling. “You might have to wait until after dinner to say it again. Priorities.”
She’s right, of course, because my stomach growls again and after returning all the unused medical supplies to the paper bag and placing it in one of the bathroom cabinets, we head to the dining room. Luckily, the food is still warm and after grabbing two sodas from the fridge, we settle at the table to eat.
The moment I pull the lids off the containers of food we’d ordered, my mouth waters from the aroma of stacked red chile and cheese enchiladas and a large sopapilla stuffed with beans and beef smothered in cheese and green chile that fill the room. What is it about New Mexican food that I can’t get enough of? Besides growing up with it when Dad was still alive, there’s nothing like red or green chile to make everything in the world feel right. And from the smile on Sarah’s face, I’m guessing she feels the same way.
We set the table and sit down. As we eat, she tells me that she talked to her dad and that it didn’t turn out as terrible as she thought it would. It’s as if all their defenses were down—hers especially—and they knew that they needed to work together from this moment on. She tells me that her father’s best friend owns a law firm in Manhattan. As far as she knew, he specializes in corporate law but her father told her they also have a department that handles cybercrime, harassment… basically, what she’s going through. The man can help and Sarah is not saying no. She needs all the help she can get.
As for Dax, he got into a fight with a friend whose older brother found her picture online along with her home address. It’s why there was a black SUV parked in front of the house. Even the police might drive by the area to check for non-residents hanging around.
“I never thought it would go this far, Benny, that he’d post my home address. He must have looked up my last name,” sh
e says, setting her fork down. “Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know but he better pray our paths don’t cross,” I say.
“Benny, that’ll be up to the law.”
“That doesn’t mean I won’t beat the shit out of him if I run into him, Sarah,” I say. “Which reminds me, I need to see what he looks like in case he shows up around Shiprock. He a white boy?”
She nods. “Blond, blue eyes.”
“Good. That means he’ll stand out.”
We hear the sound of a key turning in the lock and Sarah looks at me, her eyes wide, Panicked.
“It’s just my roommate, Mariano. He’s cool,” I say as the front door opens and a tall dark-haired man walks in. He grins when he sees me, setting his backpack on the couch as he makes his way toward the dining table.
“Hey, man, long time no see. It’s been, what, six weeks?” he says as we bump fists and I introduce him to Sarah.
“Sarah. From UNM, right? I’ve heard about you. You’re originally from New York, right?” he says as Sarah looks at him in surprise. “You’re the runner.”
Sarah laughs. “Yes, I am in every sense of the word.”
“You guys going to the Pit Stop tonight? I left the flyer on the fridge,” Mariano says. “I hope you’ve got your cowboy boots on tonight, Sarah, because I’m sure this guy right here is gonna sweep you off your feet before the night is over… if he hasn’t already.”
“Oh, please. We’re just friends. Seriously,” Sarah says, laughing. “Unfortunately, I wasn’t planning on it but–”
“Aw, come on!” Mariano says. “Ever danced two-step before? Country, not the formal stuff.”
“Yeah, Benny taught me how back then.”
“Then come along with us. You don’t have to dance if you don’t want to. You can even stick with me if you don’t like this guy over here,” he says, winking.
“Hey,” I protest as Sarah’s cheeks turn red, Mariano’s enthusiasm clearly working on her but as quickly as she seems happy, her face turns serious as she looks at me.
“Benny, what about…?” she pauses before taking a deep breath and turning to face Mariano. “Alright, I’ll go with you guys, although I have a sneaking suspicion your dance card’s full already.”
“You’d be number three, to be honest,” I mutter as Mariano laughs. With two sisters having the hots for him, why pick only one?
As for me, the only woman I want is standing right in front of me, even if she looks unsure. But then, I’d rather live a little instead of spending the entire night talking about some asshole who can’t take rejection.
Chapter Nine
The Pit Stop is already packed when Benny and I arrive at ten. Mariano had to pick up two friends and so we end up taking separate cars or in this case, trucks but somehow, he gets there before we do. He waves at us from the bar where he’s deep in conversation with two gorgeous women.
“They’re sisters,” Benny says as he guides me toward the bar. “The one on the right is Malia and Carla’s the one on the left.”
“He’s seeing both of them?”
Benny shrugs. “I honestly don’t know, but knowing Mariano, I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“So he’s a player?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t dated him to find out.”
I fake-punch Benny as he laughs and drapes his arm over my shoulders, pulling me in a half-hug. After a round of quick introductions, Benny cocks his head toward the bartender. “What do you want to drink?”
“Nothing. I’m fine,” I reply, shaking my head. My gaze darts from one stranger to the next as Dax’s words this afternoon come back to me. What if someone here saw my picture online, too? What if they recognize me and say something?
As if sensing my apprehension, Benny drapes his arm over my shoulders and pulls me in a side hug. I feel his mouth against my ear. “I’m here, Sarah. I won’t let you out of my sight even if it means you might end up dancing with me.”
“Is that a threat?” I ask, chuckling as Benny winks at me.
“It’s a promise,” he says, glancing at the stage where the band is already playing and couples are dancing on the floor. This is a part of Benny no one at UNM ever saw but I guess it’s a side of him that he doesn’t mind letting out now.
We stay near the bar where Mariano and Benny introduce me to two other friends, men they know through work who had come with their wives. Before long, they leave us to join the couples on the dance floor and Benny nudges my arm. One look at his sheepish grin at wanting to go on the dance floor and I feel all my fear dissolve.
It’s been months since I’ve gone out with friends to have fun, years since I’ve danced with someone. I let Benny lead me to the dance floor. I take my position as I remember it when he first taught me the two-step. His father had taught him how to dance it, I remember Benny telling me. It was how his parents met, at a bar where some band was playing and she’d gone with her friends after she had an argument with her Navajo boyfriend. He asked her to dance and that was it. His mother fell in love and left the reservation and everything she knew for a man with sparkling blue eyes and a killer smile.
As Benny takes my right arm and positions it to the side at shoulder height, everything he taught me comes back to me. Let him lead. Follow with your right leg because, as he said, women are always right even if I doubt he believes that but it makes it easier to remember to always step with my right.
Quick-quick-slow-slow.
Relax those shoulders.
Don’t worry about where he’s taking you as you join the rest of the couples dancing counter-clockwise around the dance floor. Just follow and let him lead. Trust him.
Most importantly, let go.
Have fun, Sarah, I tell myself.
Forget the past and just be.
Be here.
“You’re thinking too hard again,” Benny murmurs when he leads me off the dance floor at the end of the third dance.
“I’m focusing on the steps.”
“Focus on me,” he says as I look up at him, immediately drawn into his dark eyes that I’ve avoided all night. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?”
I can feel my cheeks redden beneath his gaze. “Yes, you said it once already.”
“That’s why I’m saying it again. In case you forgot it already.”
“Benny Turner, are you flirting with me?” I laugh as the band strikes up another song and the couples hurry to the dance floor again, us included.
“Always,” Benny replies, grinning as we join the couples in the two-step, staying in the middle of the flow while Mariano dances past us with Talia in his arms. He had Carla as his partner during the last dance and I know better than to ask what is really going on with the three of them when the only thing I need to focus on is the man in front of me and the unspoken attraction between us that’s been growing with each passing second.
Two hours later, my feet are killing me but there’s no way I’m stopping. Benny and I must have danced nine out of ten of the songs the band played and by the time he drives me home fifteen minutes before my curfew, I can’t stop smiling. I haven’t smiled or laughed this much in months that my cheek muscles are hurting.
“Had fun tonight?” Benny parks the truck in front of the house.
“You know I did.” I watch him turn off the engine just as raindrops hit the windshield.
He laughs. “Talk about timing.” As he reaches for his door handle, I grab his wrist.
“I still have a few minutes. Can we sit for awhile?”
He leans back in his seat. “Sure.”
We listen to the rain drum against the roof of the truck, watch the raindrops hit the windshield. Benny takes my hand and brings it to his lips. “I had a wonderful time tonight, Sarah, and I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. You did panic that one time when you thought that guy was staring at you.”
“I couldn’t stop thinking maybe he saw my picture online and was trying to place me.” That’s when I missed a
step and almost tripped but Benny caught me.
“Come here.” Benny tugs my hand and I scoot closer to him on the front seat. The butterflies in my belly come to life the moment I lean my head on his shoulder. His body feels so hot next to mine. The scent of his cologne drives me crazy just like it did when we danced and even more now in such an enclosed space, notes of patchouli, vetiver, and cinnamon blending perfectly with a scent all his own. I want to run my hand over his hard chest and down his flat belly but I remind myself to behave and study his hands instead, tracing the lines on his upturned palm. I just wish Benny did more than just dance with me all night. Take the initiative to do something… anything. I also wish I didn’t have a damn curfew, thanks to some guy who handed my brother a printout of his naked sister and now it feels like the whole Drexel household is on lockdown.
The blinking numbers on the digital clock taunt me, like a countdown to the inevitable. “I still can’t believe I have a curfew, which means we have ten minutes before I turn into a pumpkin.”
Benny grins. “Before this truck turns into a pumpkin, you mean.”
“No, before I turn into a pumpkin unless you kiss me, Benny,” I say it as a joke but it’s far from one. I’ve been wanting Benny to make the first move since he asked me to dance the first time. Then the second and the third. By the fourth dance, I’d given up. The heat of his body emanating from his hands wherever he held me was enough to make me combust on the dance floor. By the seventh dance, I was weak in the knees not because I was tired but because the nearness of him, the way he locked eyes with me when we danced, and the realization that he’d been the one I wanted all this time was too much to bear. Maybe Benny is still seeing Noelle? Or maybe he’s got someone else who’s got less baggage than I do?
For why hasn’t he tried to kiss me yet?
Benny chuckles. “Well, we can’t have you turning into a pumpkin now, can we?”
“Don’t tease me, Benny. I don’t think I can handle any more.”
“Then I won’t,” he murmurs, his face lowering toward mine as his hand cradles my face. I hold my breath, the sensation of his beard on my skin giving me goosebumps. And then there’s the kiss that follows, slow and deliberate. Intentional. It starts as a light brush, a whisper—almost a prelude—and then it comes. His mouth covers mine and all I can think of is Benny and the heat between us, growing stronger until it engulfs us leaving nothing but ashes in its wake. As his tongue slips between my lips, his kiss disarms every bit of doubt and fear I’ve harbored all night. I want to tell him that maybe we should just drive back to his place, retreat into his bedroom and stay there until morning.