Meant for More

by Liza James

"One big orgasm of food, right?" I finally say, stifling back the giggle wanting to break free.

  His face turns red and dare I say, I think I surprised him with my comment. I lean forward in order to get a better look at his face and mock gasp in astonishment. "Are you embarrassed by the word orgasm, Benj? I have to say, I'm in awe that someone like you could be thrown off by such a natural, absolutely normal and incredible—"

  Benj's hand slams over my mouth, forcing the halt to my words when he looks over and narrows his dark eyes at me. His gaze is intense, blazing with a power I only get glimpses of at times. "Cut that shit out right now or I'll show you what the Big O really is."

  I pause, replaying his words in my head over and over again. I want to respond with something witty, but I can't think of anything. My mind has stopped working, words are no longer computing and sentences? Yeah, forget those.

  He drops his hand and I quickly realize I'm breathing heavily in my seat. My back is pressed tightly up against the window while I watch him. He looks back over to the road but quickly glances at me as well. A satisfied smile tugs up one side of his lips and he runs his hand up and down the span of his own thigh. The sound is erotic in ways I wouldn't have anticipated, but his palm working over the rough texture of jeans has me wishing he was touching me instead.

  "What, nothing to say now, Baby Bloom?" He asks, and any blush to his cheeks has all but disappeared. No, this is a comfortable place for him. He knows what he's doing to me.

  "I—" I start, and then pause. Because wow, I can't seem to focus on anything but his promise.

  He laughs, a sound rumbling in his throat without completely slipping free. “Careful, words are hard.”

  My eyes dart to him and my eyebrows dip over my gaze. “Ha ha, real funny, Benj. Payback is a—”

  “Bitch. I know. It’s Carter’s favorite empty threat.” He pulls into a parking spot in front of the small building.

  Carter. I’m not sure why, but the mention of him seems to settle deep in my stomach. I’m frustrated with the reaction. He doesn’t even remember those small moments from last night. He was drunk and didn’t know what he was saying—I know. So, I need to kick those thoughts and feelings from my head before they start burrowing in my veins.

  The building ahead of us is not at all what I was expecting. I thought we’d be pulling up to an old, barn style restaurant. All swinging doors and spittoons in country inspiration.

  No, that’s not what this is. This is something entirely surprising and pleasantly appealing. It’s a modern style café. Sharp edges, white shiplap siding with black accents. The Big O hangs proud and tall over the front door and porch area. Even the lettering is unique, a mix of swooshes and serif styles which give a slightly country flair to the entire aesthetic.

  “How have I not been here?” I mutter to myself as I step out of the truck and Benj meet’s me at my side. He holds his hand out for me so I can jump without completely eating shit on the cement.

  “I seriously don’t know. Carter and Liv come here sometimes when they grab lunch.” He remarks, unknowingly sending a shot of pain through my chest. It shouldn’t hurt, and it doesn’t. Not really. I think it’s more the fact that they’ve maybe had something else going on they didn’t feel the need to share with me just yet.

  Ultimately, it’s their relationship though. I can’t assume it will be the three of us forever. I need to move on with my own future apart from them as well.

  So, I slip my hand through Benj’s, just as he pulls open the black wooden door and waits for me to step ahead of him. I nod in thank you and feel the heat of his body as he steps in behind me. His chest is pressed against my back, and he uses his hand on my hip to guide me forward toward the hostess station.

  "Two?" says the young woman with her light hair tied up tightly into a bun on top of her head. She doesn't even look up at us, and instead starts gathering menus and dinnerware before stepping out from behind the podium.

  "Yeah, two is great." Benj replies as he steps ahead of me and pulls my hand into his. I follow him and the waitress through the small but crowded cafe until she finds us a seat right next to a wide window opening up to the side of the building.

  We both sit down and the hostess scurries off while another older gal comes in to take our drink orders. I opt for iced tea, as does Benj and suddenly we're finally alone again.

  Why is this different than the last few years we've had together? There's this new pressure now, and not necessarily in a bad way. But one that has me constantly glancing around the room to see if others are watching us, or if other girls are watching Benj.

  Spoiler alert, there are.

  Benj is hot, so the small table of college girls seated behind us is already huddled in hushed whispers and quiet giggles. It helps that Benj is sporting his Cardinal hoodie, which lists his position on the back along with his teammates.

  Our teas are dropped off in front of us, and we both order the same meal for a quick lunch. Chicken fried steak, to split because there is no way in hell I can finish an entire one by myself.

  It's moments like this when I'm thankful for the friendship we've already built between us.

  "Are you always fielding a lot of attention when you go out? Especially here in town near campus?" I ask, nodding to the table behind him while a girl swats at her friend when she whispers something assumedly inappropriate. The first girl laughs and leans back, accidentally bumping Benj in his seat when she does.

  "Oh, so sorry, Benj," she casually says as she looks back over her shoulder. He nods with a tight smile and turns toward me.

  I raise my eyebrows at him, letting a smile overtake my face at the obvious discomfort he's feeling. "You always take your girls to the Big O?" I laugh. It doesn't actually bother me in the slightest, I find his clear annoyance mildly hilarious.

  "Yeah, yeah. Maybe this wasn't the best option for lunch," he mumbles just as the waitress arrives with our food. She sets the plate down in front of him and offers me the empty one. I take it, and after she leaves Benj takes a few moments to split everything between us.

  "I don't care about who you've been with or haven't." I feel the need to tell him. Even if he has been with countless girls. I've been with no one. We're two opposing sides of the spectrum and I have no qualms with that—as long as he doesn't. But I'm not ready to broach my complications in bed just yet.

  The fact that I can't come. Or experience this Big O in any sort of way with another person.

  Heat rises up my cheeks at the thought, and it isn't missed by Benj. He leans forward and dips his head so he's forcing himself into my vision. I look up at him and pick up my fork at the same time, piercing a piece of meat and eating. But instead of him whipping out some witty response, he simply chuckles and leans back in his seat.

  "How many people have you been with, Baby Bloom?" he asks as he stabs his fork into his portion of the meal and begins eating.

  Shit. I'm choking, literally and figuratively.

  I swallowed in surprise and now the piece is lodged in my throat while my head implodes at his straightforward question.

  I begin coughing, or attempting too, and suddenly my hands fall to grip the edges of the table while Benj leans forward and his eyes go wide.

  "Shit, are you—" he begins, but sits forward even further and starts hitting my back with the palm of his hand. "Don't you dare die on me on our first fucking date, Bloom. Carter will have my nuts strung up in the house and on the field."

  Finally, I can swallow, and I suck in a breath of air at the very first chance I get. My chest is heaving and falling with rapid breaths and when I look up to see Benj tense and worried on the other side of the table, I break out laughing.

  Uncontrollably. With my entire body. Practically hyperventilating.

  "Oh my god," I squeeze out between breaths and lean back in my chair. I cover my mouth with my hand while I try to rein in the laughter but it's nearly impossible. Benj sits silently for a few moments, simply watching me while
tears stream down my face and I lose it in the middle of a cafe.

  But then it happens, and he suddenly begins laughing along with me. Both of us settling into the ridiculousness of this entire situation. Us on a date, the question about sexual partners, my fucking virginity and the fact that he's a very clear player on the field.

  "I'm sorry," I say, slowing down enough to catch my breath. I pat my hand against my chest, forcing steadier breaths so I can focus on our conversation. "Before I, well you know. Before I choked, did you ask how many people I've slept with?"

  It's a ballsy question for a first date, that's for sure.

  He watches me after taking a sip of his water and sets the glass back down on the table. The chatter of fellow people around us continues and suddenly we're back in this tiny space of being the only two here in this moment.

  "Yeah, I did," he replies honestly, leaning his elbows on the edge of the table and meeting my gaze head on. It's intense, and powerful. I watch him while slowly swallowing my food this time, trying to gauge how exactly to respond to this or if I even want to just yet.

  But when I look at him, really look at him, something rolls in my stomach in hesitation.

  What am I missing here?

  He's chewing on his cheek, his foot tapping under the table incessantly. I glance down and look back up to him, a thread of worry and disbelief pooling in my chest at the thought that maybe he already knows?

  No. No fucking way. Liv would never tell, and Carter doesn't know. I've kept that shit to myself all of these years and let them assume I'd been with other guys. Except Liv, she's the only one who actually knows the truth.

  "Benj, did Liv tell—"

  Smash.

  In the span of three seconds, everything changes.

  Everything.

  "Baby!" Something smashes against the window directly next to me and I rear back in my seat at the sudden sound. My head whips to the right and I'm met with painful details I know by heart. Large, calloused hands are pressed tightly against the glass.

  Olive skin. Dirty smudges. I can already bet those fingernails are coated in filth and stains.

  Most people would say it's due to hard work, due diligence, and determination.

  But I know the truth.

  My heart races erratically as I sit in stunned silence, unsure of what to say and paralyzed in surprise and fear of what I'm seeing.

  "Get the fuck away from her," Benj's voice booms from across the table as he leans forward and slams his own hand against the window over the intruders.

  I want to speak, but I can't. I feel the words aching and ripping through my throat but are literally glued to my tongue in silence.

  The man behind the glass looks at me, his eyes pleading with my own in vacant waves of blue. Crystal blue, light like the sky and intimidating like the ocean.

  "Baby, baby, baby," he whispers over and over and over again. He falls to his knees and Benj launches forward again, moving to stand in between me and the man I want most in my life.

  My father.

  My dad.

  "Daddy," I cry out uncontrollably, but it falls out on weak words and broken sounds. I shift back before Benj can get between us and stand from my seat, moving to race out of the restaurant and to my father.

  But he steps in front of me and quickly grips my elbows, halting me in place when his eyes meet mine. "Bloom, who is that?" he asks, as if he can stop me from meeting my own father, as if he has any sort of idea as to what's happening right now.

  I yank my arm free of his and don't offer a response. It's none of his business and right now, my head is only on the man falling apart outside of this cafe.

  I rush through the tables and out the front door, vaguely hearing the sounds of Benj's steps behind mine. I wish he weren't here, god I wish he wasn't seeing this. I want to be alone right now.

  No, I take that back. I do want someone. The person who knows my father like I do. The one person who hid out with me during these drunken rants and mistakes.

  But he isn't here.

  "Dad!" I shout as I round the corner of the restaurant and find my father collapsed on the ground. He's stepped back a few feet so he's no longer in front of the window, but he's leaning against the side of the building on his ass.

  I hurry toward him and crouch down in front of his face, lifting my hands to rest against his cheeks and force him to look at me. Tears are brimming my lashes, tempted to fall free but I hold them back.

  "Baby," he says, and his eyes wander around my face before settling on my gaze. He lifts a hand and it lazily pats against my arm, over my wrist and then rests it over my hand. "My baby girl. You're so beautiful, you know that, right?"

  His words slur together in a string I can understand, but only because I've heard this language for years. The fluent speak of an alcoholic. The lazy and sloppy body language. The absent gaze.

  The painful words.

  The broken pieces.

  The shattered belongings.

  The ruined home and family.

  "I know Daddy, because you always tell me so," I say, fighting back the sob as my father holds on to me. His skin is cold and his clothes are tattered. Holes and stains are scattered throughout each piece. When I look down at his feet, one of his laces is untied and the rubber on the bottom looks worn to absolute hell.

  "Why are you sad, Bloom? I'm here. You don't have to be sad," he says, smiling wide while sitting forward and pulling me into a hug.

  I hold him back, twisting my fingers into his clothes as if I'm holding on for dear life. I can't help it. I don't know when or if he'll ever get clean, and if he doesn't, then I don't know how long I have with him.

  "I'm not sad. I'm happy to see you. I miss you, Dad." I whisper, pressing my nose against the skin of his neck when I settle against him. "I always miss you."

  He stinks. A grotesque and vile smell eases up from him and infiltrates my senses. But I don't even care right now, and I refuse to think about why he's in this situation. He should be in rehab, he should be in a shelter or something where he can eat and get clean.

  "I'm right here, Bloom. You don't have to miss me, silly girl," he laughs and then coughs, pulling away from me while his shaky hands grip my shoulders.

  I sit back, putting a foot or so between us when I meet his eyes again. "Why aren't you in rehab? What happened?" I brave the question I want answered most, but I worry his reaction will be less than ideal.

  "Rehab? Baby, I don't need no fuckin' rehab," he says, but his voice twists the tiniest bit harsher in the middle of his casual tone. "I'm as healthy as a horse."

  "I know, dad. You are. But rehab can help with everything else," I caution the words as I say them, hoping I don't lose him in this process.

  "Help with everything else," he mimics my words on sad syllables. He glances away for a moment with a sarcastic smile pulling at his lips.

  I can feel it. I'm losing him. My heart begins racing in my chest and my fingers uncontrollably dig into his arm a little harder while I race to hold onto him.

  "Dad—" I start, but he yanks out of my hold and moves to stand up on shaky legs. He stumbles back and I move forward, but he holds his hands out and almost shoves me away.

  "Help with everything else, yeah?" he grinds out and begins patting his pockets from his chest to his legs while he searches for something. "What the fuck do I need help with, exactly?" He finds it, pulling out the tiny bottle of vodka wrapped in a paper bag.

  I know it's vodka because it's the only thing he ever drank on a regular basis.

  It's always the fucking vodka.

  He dangles it in front of my face with two fingers, swaying it back and forth with a wide smile on his face. "This? This is what I need help with?"

  "Please, Dad. It's okay, I promise. I just want you to be safe," I speak quickly, unsure of how to de-escalate this as I step toward him. He puts a hand on my shoulder and pushes me away though. I stumble back, not surprised in the slightest at his physical reaction.
<
br />   This is normal for my dad. For the drunk I grew up with.

  "Hey, Bloom. Come on," Benj's voice sounds out behind me. He's hesitant, but the fact he's even here right now sends a new burst of anger rolling through me.

  Leave us alone.

  "Don't," I say without turning around to look at him. "Stay the hell out of this Benj."

  "Yeah, pretty boy. Stay the fuck away from my daughter." My dad walks forward on wobbly legs and lifts a fist toward Benj as if to threaten him.

  "Jesus," I mumble as I move forward and step between them, trying to keep this as contained as possible to my father and I.

  "All right," Benj starts, holding up both of his hands in surrender. "She just wants to help you, man."

  "Benj, shut the hell up," I say, wishing more than anything he would just leave us alone right now. My heart is racing, my skin itchy and sweaty while my mind spirals through countless hypothetical outcomes to this. I don't need my dad getting into a fight with Benj, and I don't need Benj getting in trouble with the football team.

  "Yeah, shut up, big guy," my dad leans over my shoulder and spits at Benj, before I can stop him. He suddenly lifts his hands in fists as if to encourage a fight before taking another swig of the vodka.

  "Shit," I grind out while looking back to make sure Benj is okay. He steps away from us and wipes his hand over his neck, clearing the spittle from my father. His lips are pulled tightly across his face and I can definitely make out the visible tick working along his jaw.

  I step forward, my hands on my father's chest while I try to keep him away from Benj. "Come on, Dad. Let me call Carter and have him pick you up? We can drive you back to rehab." He laughs a dark and sarcastic sound before tipping the bottle back again and taking another swig. "You'll be able to sleep in a warm bed tonight. Hell, they'll give you a hot meal."

  Anything. Anything to try and get him to go back.

  "Fuck no, I've always hated Carter. He's the kid who liked you while ya'll were growing up. You were way too young for that shit," he snaps and turns away from me. I rear back in confusion at his comment, my brows pulling together and my eyes narrowing while I try to make sense of what he’s said.