by Brent, Cora
Adela sighs. “You work too hard I think. Between school and the newspaper and your job you have no time for fun. You need to have fun.”
I’ve seen ‘fun’. At least, I’ve seen what qualifies as ‘fun’ among people my age. It seems to involve lots of people and endless liquor and humping in a corner with some random slob. No thanks.
After I assure my stepmother that I’m not yearning for the contemporary version of fun she decides she’d like to curl my hair like she used to do when I was younger. Of course I’m perfectly capable of using a curling iron myself but I would never refuse her and obediently sit in my desk chair while she hums softly and produces cascades of curls.
“Beautiful.” Adela is pleased with the results and even I can admit that I look pretty good.
The morning has worn her out a little and she decides to take a nap before lunch. My phone buzzes and I’m happy to see there’s a message from Trina wishing me a happy birthday. Ben’s comment about my lack of a social circle stung more than I wanted it to.
I’ve said nothing to Trina about my plan to write an article about Ben Beltran but now I’m thinking about the fact that her boyfriend, Kent Dresher, hangs around with Ben all the time. In all likelihood Kent knows a thing or two.
Trina is puzzled by my sudden interest. She wants to know why I don’t just ask Ben myself. It’s not my style to be secretive. But in the end she promises to discreetly ask her boyfriend some questions.
Later, my dad drives us all to Imogen’s Diner, which has been around for three generations and has seen better days but still serves great hamburgers with fat wedge fries. I’m not expecting Ben’s mother to be our waitress and I find myself staring at her while she scribbles down our orders. She’s very thin and deep worry lines are etched into her forehead but she has a lovely smile and compliments me on my dress.
I’ve worn my dress to lunch with the intention of stopping at home to change before clocking in at Dee’s but by the time my dad is settling the check I’ve only got fifteen minutes until I’m supposed to be at work. I’ll be damned if I set myself up for a lecture on punctuality from Ben Beltran.
My dad wants to drop me off at Dee’s but it’s just down the street so after promising to call if I need a ride later I wave goodbye to my loving family and cover the few hundred yards at a brisk pace. I’m not enthusiastic about working with Ben all evening but I’m not going to let his shitty behavior put a dent in my day. After he blew up last night we didn’t say another two words to each other and I won’t be the one to go out of my way to change that.
Ben Beltran has managed to earn two things. My contempt. And my certainty that he’s definitely hiding something. There’s no other reason he’d get so bent out of shape when faced with simple questions.
I’m so preoccupied that I don’t even notice the McGill brothers are propped up against the side of the building in the midst of vaping their lungs away. I freeze for a second but they simply nudge each other and smirk. Alex, the oldest, begins to make some crude blow job motions and I lower my head before hurrying inside.
Ben is dealing with customers at the register and does not even signal that he’s seen me walk through the door. I head for the stockroom where there’s a tiny closet. I hang up my warm winter jacket and exchange it for my Dee’s Gas and Goods vest. Last night I succeeded in getting all the stockroom inventory straightened out and I’m pleased to see how neat and uncluttered the area is.
There’s now a line of customers up front but with Ben occupying the only working register there’s not much I can do to help. Instead I add ingredients to the soda machine, make some more coffee, and place additional hot dogs on the warming rack. All the napkin, straw and condiment dispensers need to be refilled as well and by the time I’m finished taking care of everything the line has disappeared and I’m left alone with Ben.
“Diane Cushing stopped by to leave this for you,” he says without a trace of the anger that was so thick in his voice yesterday. He pushes a small silver box across the counter.
The tag reads ‘Happy Birthday Camden! Love, Dee and Diane’. Inside the box is a delicate silver charm bracelet. My initials and a zircon birthstone gem dangle from it. It’s a lovely gift and I’m so touched that the Cushings would go to this much trouble that a tear threatens to spill.
“Are you crying?” Ben asks.
“No.” I scowl at him. The bracelet isn’t quite large enough to push over my hand so I’m struggling with the clasp when Ben reaches over the counter.
He says nothing as he expertly pinches the clasp between his fingers and fastens it to the other end. I allow him to do it, even as I pray he doesn’t notice the way my breath catches when his fingertips brush my skin.
“Thanks,” I mumble and move my hand behind my back as if it has betrayed me.
A brief smirk skims across his face and then he shifts his weight with a sigh.
“I shouldn’t have yelled at you yesterday.”
It’s not exactly an apology but at least it’s pretty close.
“You didn’t yell. You were being your usual bad-mannered self but you didn’t yell.”
He doesn’t fire back an answer. The look on his face is now troubled, as if he’s struggling with the thought that I might dislike him.
“I don’t understand you, Beltran.”
I told him that last night and it’s true. Most of the guys I know, whether they are from Black Mountain or Devil Valley, are fairly easy to decipher. They are driven by sex or sports or ambition or cruelty or fear. Most times a combination of these. But Ben is different. The more I watch him the less I can figure out what drives him.
A shadow falls across the door and I look over to see the McGill brothers are standing just on the other side of the glass. Alex gestures and appears to be arguing with his brother Damian, who shakes his head, spits on the concrete and stalks away. Alex glowers for a few seconds and finally follows.
When I look over at Ben his eyes are narrowed and his right hand is balled into a fist as he watches the McGills retreat.
“They’ve always been a pair of shit stains,” I tell him. “Believe me, I’ve known them since elementary school. Alex has got to be nearly twenty now. I think he was left back twice.”
Ben’s fist relaxes and he snorts out a laugh. “Shit stains, huh?”
I grin. “Yup. See? I can be vulgar when I choose to be.”
His expression changes and his eyes conduct a quick scan of my body in a way that makes my cheeks grow hot. “That’s good to know.”
I clear my throat to chase away the sudden shift in mood. “Uh, you never did tell me exactly what happened the day the McGills followed me in here.”
Ben scratches his head and acts like he’s thinking. “Not sure I remember.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m positive you remember, Ben.”
“Maybe.”
“So?”
“So what?”
“Cut it out. What did you do to get them to leave me alone?”
“What did I tell you I did to get them to leave you alone?”
“You said you gave them free potato chips. Quit being evasive.”
“Evasive. Ha!”
“Don’t you know what it means?”
“Of course I know what it means. It’s just a snotty bullshit word to use.”
“Why don’t you answer the question?”
“I already forgot the question.”
I’m losing my patience. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO GET THE MCGILLS TO LEAVE ME ALONE?”
“I told you. I gave them potato chips. But I might have said something too.”
I want to reach across the counter and shake him. “And are you going to tell me what you said, Ben?”
“I don’t think you want to know.”
“You’re ridiculous. I’ve already told you that I want to know.”
He pauses. “I said that we’re fucking.”
“Who’s fucking?”
“You and me, Camden. And I made it
clear that if anyone invades my territory I’ll take it personally.”
Then he grins. He’s obviously enjoying this. He’s probably not even telling the truth. He just wants to shock me.
I’d like to say something witty and sharp but the words puddle together in my head. I can only stare at him and wonder how it would feel to have his big, rough hands all over me.
The idea that my thoughts might be showing on my face terrifies me into turning on my heel and heading for the stock room.
“I don’t have time for this. I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
This is not true. The stockroom is spotless. The inventory sheets are all caught up. But if I stand in front of Ben for one more second I know he’ll see right through me.
The bell chimes just as I enter the stockroom and I spend the next hour rearranging shelves that don’t need to be rearranged. That’s where I stay until I hear Ben calling my name. There’s a line of customers now and he’s all business, ordering me to take charge of the register while he goes out and deals with a problem at one of the gas pumps.
I don’t mind handling the checkout line. Ben stays outside for a long time and in between customers I watch him. He fixes whatever is wrong with the pump and then empties all the outside garbage cans into a dumpster in the next parking lot. It’s well past dark now and the temperature has got to be below freezing but he continues to find things to do outside despite wearing no jacket or gloves.
When he finally returns he jumps behind the counter, takes a seat on the floor and switches on the portable heater that Diane uses whenever she’s here.
“Why didn’t you wear a jacket?” I ask him as he warms his hands. “It’s probably twenty degrees out there.”
Ben acts like he doesn’t hear me. Or maybe he’s too cold to answer. The area behind the counter is narrow and there’s something odd, almost intimate, about being this close. Despite everything, I have a bizarre urge to wrap my arms around him and warm him up.
After a few minutes he hops back over the counter and begins sweeping the floor. He takes his time and since there’s no one else in the store I have nothing to do but watch him. I enjoy watching him. There’s plenty about Ben to dislike but he’s definitely easy on the eyes. He’s all strapping hard muscle and athletic style.
“Ben?”
He sets the push broom against the wall. “What?”
“I really haven’t been trying to spy on you.”
This is not the complete truth. I have been watching him and attempting to put all the jagged, mismatched pieces together in my head. I have been plotting out an article. And I did ask Trina to try and extract information from her boyfriend. But I don’t want him to think I’ve been stalking him like some obsessed freak. That’s not what I am. Not exactly. I’m just…curious.
He rolls up the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “You said that yesterday.”
“It’s true.” I come from behind the counter so I can look him in the eye. “And I took this job because I need it not because I was interested in spending more time in your presence.”
He crosses his arms. “What are you interested in, Camden?”
My eyes glide over his chest, his muscled arms, his square jaw, his full lips.
“I’m not sure.”
He watches me for a moment. Then he pulls off his work vest, walks over to the front door, locks it and switches the sign to ‘Closed’.
A very particular kind of heat begins stirring in my belly. “There are ten minutes left until closing.”
“Not by my watch.” He jerks his head. “Let’s go in the back.”
I swallow. This is the kind of situation that occupies my fantasies. “Why?”
He dims the main light. “You know why.”
I do. And so I follow him to the stockroom. There are no cameras back here. I’m not afraid anyone will see whatever it is we’re about to do.
There’s a long wooden bench that slices through the middle of the stockroom. Ben takes a seat and pats the space beside him but I hesitate. The room is lit by a single low watt overhead bulb and once I shut the door behind me it seems so small.
Ben stays put while I linger by the door. “That’s a nice dress.”
“Thanks. Adela made it for me.”
“It suits you. You look even prettier than usual.”
I’ve never been good at accepting compliments. I don’t know what to do with a compliment from Ben Beltran.
And then he gives me another one.
“You’re a really beautiful girl, Camden. I’ve always thought so.”
My breath is caught in my chest and I can’t look at him. I stare at a cracked green floor tile instead.
“Come over here,” he whispers.
I’m nervous. I’m excited. I’m out of my mind.
I sit down next to him.
Ben takes a moment to look me up and down. Then he smiles.
“Damn,” I mutter.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. I just don’t know why you have to be so good looking.”
He chuckles. I want to tape my mouth closed so I don’t make any other dumb comments.
But, alas, I have no tape. And so the words just keep coming.
“Ben, I’ve never…”
I’ve lost track of my own sentence. I just let it hang there and I stare at him.
“Yeah, I kind of guessed you never did.” He lifts an eyebrow. “Have you been close?”
“Not really.” I don’t know why I’m confessing my secrets but now that I’ve started I can’t seem to stop. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve never been kissed or had my shirt off.”
He’s interested. “Go on.”
“That’s it. It was nice.”
“Nice.” He laughs. Then he notices that I’m edging away from him and getting annoyed so he drops his smile. “Hey, can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” I grumble. “Might as well complete my humiliation.”
He leans closer. “Has anyone ever made you come?”
Ben’s voice is layered with sex and experience and I’m ashamed that his words get me hot.
I want to lie to him.
But I don’t.
“No, it never got that far.”
My face burns. I dare to look into his eyes. They are so dark and bottomless I feel as if I’m being pulled into them. I expect that he’ll be laughing at me. Instead he reaches out and touches a soft curl of hair that falls over my right shoulder. He winds it around his finger and a light tickling in my belly explodes into a firestorm. Ben Beltran might be a prick most of the time but my hormones don’t know any better.
“Why not, Camden?”
“Maybe I just didn’t like them enough.”
Ben nods. His hand drifts down to my thigh. “Do you like me?”
I like the touch of his hand. I’m not sure about the rest of him. “I don’t know.”
He finds my answer amusing. “I don’t know if I like you either.”
I swallow. “That’s fine.”
“Yeah, it is. People don’t have to like each other for this to feel good.”
I’m torn. The things Ben says aren’t exactly romantic. They are worse than that. They are true.
And I want him more with every word.
I can only whisper. “I might agree with your last statement.”
A vague smile from him. Then he looks me over and frowns. “It’s not cold in here.”
I don’t know what he’s really trying to say so I simply bob my head.
“Take your vest off.”
His hand hasn’t left my thigh. His fingers toy with the hem of my dress. I can hear my own heart pounding in my ears as I remove the work vest and toss it to a shelf. I could have easily squirmed away from his touch in the process but I don’t want his hand to stop. His fingertips now stroke my skin, edging higher one agonizing centimeter at a time. I loosen my knees in the hopes he’ll keep going. This is nuts. I’ve never even kissed this guy and here I am open
ing my legs for him, sliding closer so that he can push his hand higher, biting my lip to stifle a groan when I feel his fingers travel high enough to touch my panties.
Ben knows exactly what he’s doing. He understands what will make me react, which buttons to press. A flash of jealousy strikes me because I know he’s done this to other girls. I don’t want him thinking of them. My fingers fumble with the zipper at my back and then I slowly undo my dress. I allow it to slide to my waist. He sucks in his breath when he sees my powder blue bra. Then he reaches behind his head and yanks off his sweatshirt. I fight a gasp over the sight of his broad chest, his muscled arms. He watches for my reaction and for an instant he smirks because he knows that I like what I see. He folds up his sweatshirt and stretches to place it on the bench right behind me.
“Lay down,” he orders.
I want this.
Whatever is about to happen, I want to do it.
And so I obey.
I swing one leg over and my knees are now apart, one leg on each side of the bench as I roll backwards until my back touches the pillow of his folded shirt. I don’t stop him when he gets between my legs and pushes my dress higher, up over my hips.
“You are so fucking sexy,” he says and he’s breathing hard as his head dips down. I feel the flick of his tongue on my belly, and then lower.
“Wait.” I push him away. “Don’t.”
He stops, surprised. “You don’t want to?”
“Um.” I squirm, wondering why words have to choose this moment to fail me. “I want to do things with you, Ben. I’m just not ready for that.”
He doesn’t argue. He nods and sits up. “Okay.”
Maybe I should feel ridiculous, lying here on a grimy bench in my birthday dress with my legs open. But Ben is touching me again and I don’t know how to feel anything but a powerful need to have more of him. I can’t stop myself from moaning when his thumbs travel up the sides of my thighs and meet in the middle. I know my panties are damp and I arch my body in an effort to drive the pressure of his fingers. It’s so good, so much better than when I touch myself this way. I gasp with shock when his finger slips inside my panties and then sigh with pleasure when that same finger slides inside me, just barely, just enough for me to bite my lip and shudder. My eyes have been closed and now I open them to see him staring down at me with intense concentration. Then he smiles and my chest tightens. Deep inside of me there’s a slow rising tide and I want to let it carry me along and yet I hold back because I’m doing this with Ben Beltran and I’m not sure what to think of Ben Beltran and I don’t want that to matter but part of me whispers that it should.