And necking. This was the first time that they’d ever necked. Ben kissed every inch of her neck: from her jaw-line clear down to the base of her collarbone. Well, just on one side of her neck—he had a hard time reaching the opposite side due to the armrest that separated their overstuffed recliners. And after her neck, his kisses moved to her earlobe. While kissing her earlobe, he also had to breathe. Which meant hot gusts of breath kept tickling her ear canal. She was dying. Literally shivering up and down, trying to keep her body from convulsing. She’d never felt anything like this before. She both wanted it to stop—so she could regain control of her body—and for it to never end.
“Stupid armrest,” Ben grumbled at one point. “I can’t get close enough to you.”
They paused from their necking for a moment, both needing to catch their breath. She could see his face clearly; the commotion on screen illuminated the room. The way Ben was looking at her—with such a look of desperate desire—whoa. Scary. This was getting so intense.
“I think I found your weak spot,” he smiled. “Instead of Achilles’ heel, the saying should get changed to Kat’s ears.”
“You going to Webster that too?”
“No,” he quickly replied, his face full of tenderness. “That’s personal. You don’t need to become a slang phrase.” He kissed her again. This kiss was slower, his mouth moving only slightly. But he was breathing heavily. “I think it’s my weak spot too,” he sighed. “You’re making me crazy.”
He was fully leaning across the armrest. It had to be uncomfortable; it made him complain about it again. “I don’t know whose bright idea this was.” He kneed the armrest, like he could knock it over. “Someone’s trying to sabotage me.”
Kat bit on her lip, trying not to smile. ‘Cause #1. It meant that he’d never had a make-out session in his theater room before. And #2. It was a chastity chair. Her dad would be so glad. She was so glad. She needed that barrier between her and Ben. Especially now that he had found her weak spot.
She turned her attention to the screen. “I don’t know what’s happening, do you?”
Ben looked at the screen and after listening to an argument between two characters, he said, “No clue. Should we try to guess based on their body language?”
Instead, Ben reached for the remote control and hit rewind. Kat looked at her watch. Crap. “Ben, I actually have to go. I’m supposed to be home by twelve.”
He looked at his watch. “It doesn’t take forty-five minutes to get to your house.”
“Yeah it does … when you go the speed limit.”
Ben scowled. “You can’t leave yet. Do you know how long it will be before I see you again?”
She knew his publicity tour started next week. And that he’d be gone a couple of weeks. But she didn’t want to think about when it would be. He gave her the date. She cringed. It would practically be spring when he got back. “Call your dad; ask him if you can stay longer,” Ben urged.
Her heart sank. Her dad would say no. She knew he would. So she’d be reprimanded by her dad and humiliated in front of Ben. Fabulous. Just what every girl wanted.
“Really, Kat, you can’t leave halfway through the movie.”
The movie! Her dad was going to flip over that show. So she called him, told him what show she was watching, and asked if she could stay until the end. Flip, he did. That was his all-time favorite series. Well, excluding Star Wars, but that goes without saying. He needed all the details. Kat provided a few, but then, realizing the corner she was painting herself into, said, “I really can’t tell you anymore. You’re going to have to wait ‘til you see it … in two months,” she jibed.
Somehow, her dad folded and granted her permission to stay out until one a.m. This was a major triumph. And she hoped that he wouldn’t ask more details about the show … because they really didn’t watch much more. They kissed much more.
When the show was finally over (they did watch the closing sequence) they stood to leave the theater. But before they reached the door, Ben cornered her, pressing her up against the wall. He nibbled on her other ear—the one he hadn’t been able to reach before. Which was good, because that ear was feeling excluded. But it was also not so good, because there was no longer a barrier between them. His arms were around her back. Her arms were around his neck. Her fingers ran through his hair, across the back of his neck—his shoulders. Ah. She could feel the heat rising through his shirt. Her hands ran across his tight, muscular back, feeling every detail through that thin shirt. Double ahh. She was grateful for the wall that was supporting her … she knew she wouldn’t be able to stand on her own.
They were interrupted by the chime from her phone. It was a text from her dad, asking her if she was on her way. “Ben, I really have to go.”
He groaned. “It’s like … like you’re just an illusion. Like you’re some enchantress. I waited so long to be with you. I’m finally able to kiss you, and then poof—you’re gone. For another three weeks.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll get grounded if I’m not there by one.”
“Will he ground you for more than three weeks?”
She felt her body stiffen. Did Ben think that she had no life outside of him? Did she really seem that pathetic?
He nudged her. “Joking,” he said. “I don’t want you to get in trouble. But I’m not ready to say goodnight.” He looked at his watch again. The frown left his face. “What if I drive you home? That’d give us another fifteen minutes here. And a half-an-hour drive together.”
“Um … but my car …”
“I’ll have it brought to you in the morning.”
She didn’t think it was entirely the best plan, but it did result in more time with Ben, so she agreed and said that they would have to come up with a story about her car not starting or something. “No, we’ll just say that I don’t want you driving home alone. Which is the truth.” He gave a devious smile. “In more than one way.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were walking to the garage. It took them awhile, not only because of the size of the estate, but because Ben would stop every few steps and kiss her. It was like he was leaving a trail of kisses through the house.
She caught her image in the mirror in the foyer as they passed. “Ah!” she nearly screamed. She looked horrible. Her lips were red and puffy—make-out lips. Her cheeks were flushed. Her hair had turned to fluff, especially the ends where Ben was constantly twisting, tugging and pulling. She all out stopped and dug into her purse. “Hold up a sec,” she said. “I need a twisty.” Facing the mirror, she began to smooth her hair back into a loose pony.
Ben reached for a strand that she had missed. He twisted it around his finger. He looked at it longingly. Then he looked at her with that same look of yearning. “I love …”
Kat felt her jaw drop. A small gasp escaped. She was pretty sure that gasp that fled from her mouth was her last one. She couldn’t breathe.
“… Your hair,” he finished, his voice near a whisper.
Oh. Her hair. Really? That was what he intended on saying? She was breathing again, but it hurt. Like an asthma attack. She had to look away from him. She didn’t know what to say. It felt like he meant more than what he’d just said. His face looked like he meant more. But she’d been known to misinterpret body language before … i.e., the Chihuahua.
So they finished the walk to the garage, this time making it the entire way without having to kiss. “One more surprise,” he said as he opened the door into the five-car garage.
It was green. Lime green. It was low. Sleek. Gorgeous. A Lamborghini. “Wow,” she said, “You got a new spaceship.” Her comment was appropriate on two counts: obviously, it looked like some kind of future craft; and secondly, it upheld her theory about Ben being extraterrestrial.
“Yep.” He didn’t acknowledge her alien comment. He was too excited to talk about his car, which he explained was an early birthday gift. And also in celebration of the success of “Generations.” And the accompanying video.
/> “So then the car is part mine,” she said boldly. “‘Cause the video wouldn’t be a success without me.” She was totally joking. No way would she ever be so arrogant. “You going to let me drive it?”
Ben tossed her the keys. He thought she was serious. She froze with the keys clasped between her hands. Whoa. He’d given her the keys to his brand-new gazillion-dollar car. After she picked her jaw up from the floor she said, “I was joking, Ben. I don’t want to drive your car.”
His lips upturned playfully. “I was joking too. I’m not going to let you drive it.” She tossed back the keys. “Dang,” he said. “I was hoping to have to wrestle them from you.”
Kat ignored that comment. “This isn’t American.”
“No. But it’s a gift.” He walked around the car, admiring it in the same manner that she admired his physique. “And I’m half Italian. I need to honor my heritage.” He gave her this silly-boyish grin. A grin she didn’t have up on her wall at home.
Before they could get into the car, Ben had to take some pictures of Kat with his car. He told her that he was going to use it for his caller-Id, along with the ring tone, “These Are a Few of My Favorite Things.” He even sang it for her.
“There you go,” she said, “your next album can be a Sound of Music redo.”
“Good thing you’re not my manager. You’d tank my career.”
Once in the car, the kissing commenced yet again. Ben said they had to initiate the car. And then Kat said, “I have never made out in an Italian sports car before.”
“Hmm. Me either. You lost that round. You might have to give that necklace back.”
“Never,” she said, pulling the necklace away from him. “It’s a family heirloom.”
“You’ll have to come up with something else then. You owe me.”
Ben started the car. “Listen to that,” he said, rolling the windows down. He relaxed in his seat like she expected he might if he were in a hot tub. “Awesome, huh?”
Kat looked at the clock. Not so awesome. It was twelve forty.
“Don’t worry,” Ben said. His eyes had followed hers to the clock. “I’ll get you home on time.”
“That’s what I’m worried about.”
……
Sunday afternoon text from Ben:
My face looks like a monkey’s butt?
Kat’s face dropped to a frown, which felt unnatural. She had been beaming all day, seriously … all day! Which was impressive, because it was Sunday. Which meant church and family exclusiveness. Not always Kat’s favorite part of the weekend.
Her reply:
U figured it out?
She wished she’d been able to figure out what he had said, but she couldn’t really even remember it. She just remembered the word “amore.” But she tried not to dwell on it. He could have said “I love to torment you, Katrina Hayes,” or “I love to knit scarves, Katrina Hayes.” The latter making the least sense of the two.
His reply:
Jackson told me.
Argh. Jackson! Why didn’t she warn him? Honestly, she’d forgotten that she’d insulted the best looking guy in America with her Pig Latin. Covering her tracks was the farthest thing from her mind. What was on her mind? All that kissing. Her stomach tickled just thinking about it.
Last night was good. Very, very good. Especially since she’d gone into the date thinking that Ben was over her. Obviously, Ben really had a thing for her. Being the recipient of Ben’s adoration felt incredible. What would feel even more incredible? Being able to tell someone about it. She felt like her skin was about to burst, as her insides continued to bubble with excitement. She needed to let it out … to tell someone. But when Ben had dropped her off last night, he made it clear that everything about that night was private.
Clue #1: He hadn’t actually dropped her off. Sure, he drove her down the hill in that awesome green Lamborghini, but he didn’t go into her neighborhood. One of his security guards drove her the rest of the way in a nondescript black sedan. Ben explained that he couldn’t let his exotic car get photographed, due to the uniqueness of the color. Once the press saw Ben in that car, he’d never be able to drive it again. But she understood, right? Well yeah, she understood. But it still felt weird being driven home by some guy named John. And even weirder: Ben suggested that John drop her off in the alley behind her home. He thought it would be best if she wasn’t seen with Wilder security at one a.m. Kay.
Clue #2: When she was switching into the security car at a nearby business complex, Ben reminded her not to talk to the press. And he said, “Even be careful with kids at school. Paul got a report that one agency was paying kids to get information from you.”
Whoa—what? What kids? Kat tried not to act too freaked out about this. She didn’t want Ben to think that she’d already been divulging secrets to her friends at school. But she did ask if they—Paul and Ben—knew which kids were accepting the bribes. “I don’t know names. But I’d assume that it would be those in your circle.” Ben explained that was how it worked in the tabloid world: they contacted those closest to you to find out dirt. Again, Kat tried not to freak about this. She didn’t want Ben to think she didn’t trust her friends. But it did make her worry. Who was trying to cash in on her friendship?
Clue #3: Ben actually said, “We need to keep this private for as long as we can.”
So there. Kat couldn’t talk to anyone about that amazingly awesome night with Ben. Especially her parents. She had to act all nonchalant around them. They would lock her up if they realized how steamy things were getting with Ben.
Ben must have grown tired of the texting, cause after a few messages, he called her. He said he wasn’t mad about the monkey’s butt thing, but Kat still reminded him how disconnected her mouth was from her brain, just in case he was harboring a tiny bit of bitterness. He did tell her that she owed him … twice. One for the insult, and one for losing the round of “I have never” relating to Italian cars. He told her he expected her to pay up when he got back in a few weeks. She had no idea what he had in mind, but it gave her goose bumps thinking about it.
During the phone call, he told her that he’d been out to the swap meet that morning. The T-shirt guy still had not been able to find a Clash shirt for Ben. Ben explained how he had hoped to wear it on his promo tour, since he was doing an interview with BBC. He wanted to show his respect for one of Britain’s greatest bands. And he wanted to show that he didn’t carry on the traditions of his father. Apparently, Dan Wilder hadn’t been a fan of The Clash, and he’d been very vocal about it. So, long story short, Ben wanted Kat to ask her dad if he would sell that Clash shirt to Ben. Which would mean that her dad would find out that Kat had borrowed his shirt. That wouldn’t be so good. Plus, Kat knew there was no way that her dad would part with that shirt. Even if he made a good chunk of change off of it. He was just too attached to anything that had to do with the days of yore.
Kat hated to flat out say no to Ben, so instead she asked if Ben just wanted to borrow the shirt for the tour.
“Borrow?”
She realized that was probably a foreign term for Ben. No need to borrow when you can easily afford to buy a small kingdom. “Yeah. Then you get what you need, short term, and my dad gets to keep his shirt, long term. Everybody’s happy.”
“I guess … that could work. I’d probably never wear it more than once anyway.”
Oh yeah, totally. Wear something more than once—ick.
Frog Suck. Kat’s wardrobe was going to need to be expanded by the time Ben got back in town. And she was nearly out of money.
Then finally, the point of Ben’s call: he’d made arrangements for Kat to get her car back. But it involved her getting out of the house for about an hour. Today. Sunday. He informed her that Jackson would be over to pick her up in a half-hour. It didn’t sound optional, really. It sounded like it was a done deal. But he didn’t supply her with an excuse that would get her away from her family on a Sunday. She’d have to get creative.
> Chapter Nineteen ……
Jackson had this feeling like he was being punched in the stomach. And not just one punch. It was continual. Like someone was taking jab after jab, never allowing him to fully recover nor get himself upright.
And it was all because of Kat.
This entire situation was out of control, like a meteor plowing through the atmosphere. Jackson felt helpless: all he could do was sit and watch—not shield or stop the impending catastrophe. And yes, the pun was intended.
So, for starters, Jackson had helped Kat sneak out on Sunday. Sneaking around with Kat was never a good thing, because that always meant more lies. And it also meant trying to dodge the paparazzi. Which, okay, in all honesty was kinda fun. Jack had felt like a secret agent, zipping through the streets of the neighborhood with Kat ducked down in back. But, since Jackson had successfully ditched the pap, that meant that Ben and Kat felt free to be “expressive.” Which meant that Jackson had been stuck watching some Sunday PDA, which felt like a cardinal sin. Not that Ben and Kat did anything inappropriate it was just … uncomfortable. The way they looked at each other. The way that their bodies always had to be touching in some form—even if it was just their pinkies. Jackson felt excluded. Like something had changed between those two, and no one had bothered to inform him.
If the serious nature of their relationship was evident just from watching Ben and Kat’s interactions, there was also some giftage going on that was a dead giveaway as to the commitment between them. Ben had pimped Kat’s ride. And the guy had only had her car overnight. But somehow, he’d managed to get it waxed, get the windows tinted, have a spoiler installed and the rims replaced. Bugsy had never looked so good.
“Want to keep my car overnight?” Jackson had asked Ben.
“Ha,” Ben replied. “That car’s a money pit, Jack. Better to cut your losses now than to throw in another dime.”
Yeah, ouch. Ben just didn’t seem to understand that Jackson didn’t drive the Geo out of desire. It was out of necessity. And he wasn’t going to be upgrading anytime soon. He didn’t even think he would be able to afford to drive it at college—he’d probably be stuck with his old moped his entire college career.
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