Until The Last Star Fades

by Jacquelyn Middleton

  “Um…looks great to me…” A nervous laugh broke through his lips as he backed away, inching toward the open window. He nudged the curtain and leaned sideways on the sill, ogling a vintage car parked outside. The frosty air prickled his warm skin, sending his hand on a mission, climbing…climbing underneath his thin t-shirt. The more he burrowed and clawed at his chest, the farther his threadbare tee crept up his stomach. “Christ! So itchy.” His other hand squeezed his toothbrush, absentmindedly spinning it round and round.

  Riley looked over her shoulder, catching a fleeting glimpse of letters spelling FCUK on the underwear band poking above his low-rise jeans. A breath caught in her throat, her eyes tracing over those four letters again. Err, who’s dyslexic now? Guilt warming her cheeks, she expected to be caught out, but her below-the-belt peek remained a secret. Ben’s attention was out the window, but his hand mindlessly skipped downward. The movement drew her eyes back down his chest and taut abs to hover below his navel where his hand stopped. Do you know how hot you are? Why don’t you have a girlfriend? She pulled her gaze away. Riley! STOP THINKING ABOUT BEN LIKE THIS!

  Watching the street below, Ben winced, his thumb tracing where there had previously been a trail of hair disappearing into his underwear. “I have stubble where no bloke should ever have stubble. Not shaving there again.”

  Ben, can you NOT…! Riley gulped and kneeled down, smoothing the throw’s velvety softness, its warmth slipping through her fingers as her mind scrambled to reel in her thoughts—thoughts that had stolen her breath back at the club when she realized the good-looking guy with the wild dark hair stumbling on stage was Ben. Luggage-thieving, five-layer-wearing, cheeky Ben…stripping?! Half-naked! Owner of strong shoulders, a defined back, sculpted pecs, and a narrow waist—lean like a swimmer’s physique—who knew? He was beautiful, sexy, her physical ideal—and those adorkable dance moves? Ready to share, his open, toned arms an invitation…to explore that body.

  Her mind shuffled, replaying the brief moment she’d felt his skin against hers, wrapped in an unexpected dance floor embrace. She had felt uneasy at first. Am I being unfaithful? But Ben’s behavior had been respectful, self-aware, not presumptuous or handsy like Hunter was with Leia. No, Ben had waited for a sign—a smile, a nod—before tripping the light fantastic with her. He was a gentleman, not at all what she had expected. He’s cute and courteous. I bet he’s been with a lot of women. Good looks and decency would attract girls like a Black Friday sale at Sephora. How many have peeled away all those layers: t-shirt, hoodie, jeans…sliding their hands, their lips along his ripped abs and slim hips while his mouth sucked and teased, his tongue sweeping over… A dizzying warmth began to throb between her legs. Fuck, he could cut my thighs with those cheekbones, the feel of stubble burn—

  “Hope? Riley?”

  She shook her head. “Oh! S-Sorry?”

  “You okay there, starin’ off into space?” Ben’s hand skimmed the top of his underwear before pulling away, allowing his soft t-shirt to slip down, kissing his jeans. He snickered and tapped the toothbrush against his lips. “You mumbled something about stubble burn.”

  A blush coaxed her cheeks into a slight smile as she pretended she wasn’t flustered. “Oh, yeah…uh, strippers…so much stubble, shaving their chests…”

  “That’s not all they shave.”

  Okay then. “Uh…you can keep that toothbrush.”

  “Great!” He pointed it at the loveseat underneath her raised single bed. “So, off to Bedfordshire, then?”

  Riley stacked cushions into a headrest and stood up. “Yep.”

  “This means a lot.” He paused awkwardly, his arms lost, swaying by his sides like they needed a purpose. “Thanks, Riley…”

  Is he going to hug me? I-I can’t… Riley busied her hands, clasping the ladder leading to her bed. “Well, night.” She climbed up and grabbed threadbare Puffin, hiding him under the duvet as she slipped underneath. She closed her eyes but knew sleep wouldn’t come easy.

  The springs in the loveseat below groaned then grew quiet. A few minutes passed. Unsure if Ben’s tossing and turning was finished, Riley peeked over her bed’s edge, careful not to give herself away. Ben’s long legs and Christmas socks were hanging off the loveseat, but if he was uncomfortable, it didn’t sound like it. His breathing was restful, quiet. He IS still breathing, right? She hovered on the edge for another minute, listening to him sleep and then returned to her pillow, her mind swirling with the pinky swear she’d made with a hot guy over a California wrap and a vinegar-soaked burger.

  Sixteen

  Munching away on a piece of buttery toast smothered in peanut butter, Ben leaned against the sink, flipping through the pages of Riley’s Lairds and Liars calendar.

  “Ben?” A sleepy voice wafted down from the suspended bed.

  Shit, caught out. “Ah, Hope,” Ben mumbled, fingers abandoning August to fly over his full mouth. “Morning!” He shifted to his left, plunging the lever of Riley’s toaster. The two heating elements lit up, surrounding two slices of bread with an orange glow. He turned around, hands jammed in the pockets of his jeans and cheeks full of toast.

  Riley scratched her bedhead. “Feeling at home?”

  “Uh…” Swallowing the mouthful, he dipped his chin, his fingers escaping his pockets to twist the hem of his t-shirt. “Yeah, I got peckish and wanted to make you breakfast—to thank you, but…” His eyes swept the open shelves. “You don’t have much in.”

  “Hello, student budget.” She climbed down the ladder and smiled at the butter and open bag of sliced bread. “This is a first.”

  “What is?” Jeez, she’s even more adorable in the morning. Gaze falling from her face, Ben momentarily lost the ability to form words. Fuck, nipples—she’s not wearing a bra under that t-shirt. Stop gawking!

  Joining him at the counter, Riley pulled at her t-shirt’s hem. “A guy making me breakfast.”

  Focus, Fagan. Finish your breakfast…pretend she’s wearing a parka—or just don’t look at her at all. He picked up a knife, dipping it into the peanut butter. “Call off the trumpets, Hope, it’s only toast.”

  “But I LOVE toast.”

  He smeared another blob of peanut butter on his breakfast.

  “You really like that stuff, huh?”

  “There’s something about American peanut butter that’s the dog’s bollocks—I mean, it’s awesome.” He bit into his remaining piece, his eyes alive with childlike bliss.

  Riley lifted a box of cereal. “You should try these.”

  Ben chewed quickly, the Reese’s Puffs pulling his eyes back to her. “Peanut butter cereal?! Cereal is life, especially Frosties. I could eat it breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I’d love to try that, but your milk is off.”

  “Oh, really? Crap.” She returned the box to its home. “So, meet any more spiders?”

  A subtle burning smell tweaked Ben’s nose and a twirling ribbon of smoke rose from the toaster. “Shhiiiiiit.” Is it ruined? He dropped his breakfast on its plate and swooped, forcing Riley’s partially charred toast to spring into view. “I’ll make more—”

  “No, it’s fine—”

  “Let me fix it.” Ben chopped off a singed corner then stuck a knife into the butter, carving out a large curl. I’ll cover the rest, make it edible. Jeez, can’t I do anything right? He handed her the plate, butter pooling on the crunchy toast.

  “Yum, thanks!” She sat down on the loveseat.

  She’s just saying that. Ben followed but stood, plate and knife in hand, looking at the pictures taped to the wall. A few postcards stood out: Strand Bookstore, London…Puffins? He paused at a photo of a rosy-cheeked guy in a green and white hockey jersey, helmet tilted up on his forehead and a ‘king of the world’ glint in his eye. Someone thinks highly of himself. Ben pointed the knife. “Is this the boyfriend?”

  Riley looked up. “Yeah, that’s Josh.”

  Several photos showcased relationship bliss: holding hands while skating in Central Park, a selfie snapp
ed at a parade, laughing hysterically at a gigantic SpongeBob SquarePants balloon hovering overhead. Josh is definitely the center of her world. With a long exhale, Ben moved on, skimming pictures of Erika and a few people he didn’t recognize, including a male with wavy shoulder-length brown hair, intense green eyes, and a puppy tugging on a leash. “Is the guy with the dog your brother?”

  “No, that’s my friend Casey, pre-haircut. The dog is Erika’s.” Riley licked buttery crumbs from her thumb. “I’m an only child. How ’bout you?”

  “Same.” Ben didn’t turn around, admiring photos of Riley in a bathing suit. “I feel like an island sometimes.”

  “I know how that feels. Good thing I know how to swim.” Riley giggled and returned to her toast.

  If only you’d swim out to me. My God, you’re beautiful.

  “All my friends have siblings. Piper has an older brother, Casey has three sisters, and Erika’s family’s practically a football team—so many kids!”

  Ben motioned toward an image of Riley hugging an older brunette. “Who’s this?”

  She smiled. “My mom.”

  “Her hair color is different, but you look like her. She’s got kind eyes.”

  “Mom’s the best—”

  CLICK! The lock on her door turned.

  Riley sat up straight. “Hello?”

  Ben flinched, pointing the butter knife toward the apartment door as it swung open.

  “Wakey wakey, Rye!” Wrapped in her candy floss-colored coat and carrying a bulging plastic bag, Piper struggled through the doorway, a newly procured set of spare keys dangling from her hand.

  Riley’s tense stare dissolved. “You’re early!”

  Ah, yeah, this one’s on the wall. Ben relaxed and the knife returned to his plate.

  “No, you’re late.” Piper’s teasing eyes flew from her best friend to Ben and back again. “And I approve! Breakfast together—this looks cozy.”

  “Pip!”

  Piper dropped the keys into her pocket and the bag to the floor. “Oh my God! Did Riley pick you up at the strip club last night?” She beamed and extended her right hand. “I’m Piper.”

  Ben wiped his right hand on his jeans and met her confident grip. “Oh, I’m not a stripper. Well, actually, I was, but only for two disastrous weeks. I’m Ben—just a friend.”

  “You’re English!” Piper let go of his hand.

  “Scottish, actually.”

  “What?!” Piper’s eyes lit up. “No way!”

  “I was born there.”

  “Really? Me, too. Whereabouts?”

  “Edinburgh.”

  “Me, too! High five!” Piper lifted her hand, which Ben gave a reluctant smack. “What part?”

  Riley’s eyes volleyed between the two Scots.

  “Niddrie. I didn’t grow up there.”

  “I was gonna say, your accent’s definitely not Scottish. Your family must’ve moved to England when you were young, huh?”

  Ben ducked her gaze. “Yeah, something like that.”

  Piper didn’t pause for breath, whipping off her coat and hanging it on the back of the door. “I’m soooo into Scotland. We moved when I was a newborn. Dad was a diplomat, so we lived in France, got sent to Japan, which I adore! Love Japanese things—”

  “Except Erika.” Riley snickered, savoring another bite of toast. To borrow a phrase from Casey, Piper always said Erika was ‘up herself’.

  Piper smoothed down her black knit mini-dress. “—but my heart belongs to anything Scottish: shortbread, haggis, the Loch Ness Monster. I’m a total believer—Nessie’s real.”

  Riley chuckled.

  “She is!” Piper snapped her gum, the sound earning a fleeting grimace from Ben. “I also Highland dance, I love a flirty kilt, and I can play bagpipes.”

  Man, she talks fast. Ben nodded politely. “Bagpipes, eh? And your name’s Piper?”

  “I know! Funny, huh? My parents—wackos!”

  “Piper’s playing sounds like she’s strangling a cat.” Riley munched her toast, raising her eyebrows at Ben.

  “A neighbor once called the humane society on me—fact. And I did fail my audition with NYU’s Pipes and Drums band.” Piper kicked off her boots. “Whatever. I swear I have tartan blood. Last night, I watched my people taking no shit on Netflix.”

  Ben crunched his crust and looked back at Riley, who chewed quickly. “I thought”—Riley mumbled through the mouthful—“you had a date? Some dude from work.”

  “Yeah, cinnamon cupcake guy!” Scratching her arm, she looked at Ben. “I work at Sprinkles. It’s not exactly hookup central, but this guy stood out.” She turned to Riley. “Get this: he owns Twister bedsheets—the most awesome thing ever! I was about to go d—” She caught Ben’s peaked eyebrow and paused, swerving where her tongue was headed. “He…ah, he said, ‘Don’t freak out, but I think I have bed bugs.’”

  “No way!” Ben shivered.

  “Gross!” Riley joined his chorus of disgust. “God, you didn’t bring any with you, did you?”

  “No!” Piper scratched her hip. “I hightailed it, showered twice, then stayed up until three with Lairds and Liars and Mark Keegan instead.”

  “Mark Keegan?” Ben looked between Piper and Riley. “I know Keegs.”

  “What?” Riley did a double take.

  “No! Really?” Piper skimmed Ben from head to toe, her sweep totally obvious.

  “Yeah, went to drama school with him.” He wiped crumbs from his mouth. “He was two years ahead of me.”

  “Are you for real?” Riley pursed her lips.

  “That. Is. Crazy!” Piper squeezed his arm. “He’s Riley’s favorite actor.” She motioned to the wall. “I gave her that Lairds calendar for Christmas.”

  Ben grinned. “Small world.”

  “But Josh gets jealous.” Piper pulled a red binder from the plastic bag. “He hates Riley swooning over actors.”

  “That’s silly.” Ben met Riley’s gaze. “Besides, they’re eng—”

  “So, Pip.” Ben noticed a ‘shut up’ glare in Riley’s eyes. She blinked and it vanished as she turned to Piper. “Are those the notes?”

  Shit! Piper doesn’t know? Ben looked at Riley. Why hasn’t she told her best friend?

  “Yep!” Piper dragged the bag along with her. “And I have candy—lots of it.”

  Ben walked to the counter, set down his crumb-speckled plate, and retrieved his hoodie from the armrest.

  Piper plopped down on the loveseat, bouncing Riley and sending her toast sliding across the plate. “I took three pages of notes. Fuck, talk about coma-inducing. You had the right idea, working a sneaky shift while the rest of us were bored to tears…” She opened the binder. “You know how he loves to drone on about camera positions and shit.”

  I’m a third wheel now. “Erm.” Ben scratched his chin. “I’m gonna head off.”

  Riley looked up from the page. “You don’t have to—”

  “Stay!” Piper rooted through the plastic bag. “I’ve got enough for everyone: Nerds, Pocky, Fun Dip—”

  “Mmm, Fun Dip!” Riley licked her lips.

  Fun Dip? Ben put on his coat and cap.

  Piper flashed a rectangular package. “Check it! A new PEZ present for Riley. It’s the one you wanted, right? Badtz-Maru from Hello Kitty?”

  “Right, thanks,” said Riley tightly. She snatched the penguin PEZ and stashed it under a pillow.

  Childhood PEZ collection, eh? Ben laughed as he stuffed his feet into his shoes.

  “C’mon, Ben, stay a bit!” Piper grinned.

  “Cheers, but I’ve got stuff to do.” If only. Ben backed up toward the door. “Thanks for everything, Riles, really.”

  Her grin lingered. “Anytime.”

  I hope so. “Nice meeting you, Piper.”

  “Be seeing ya, Ben!” Piper waved as he closed the door behind him.

  “He called you ‘Riles’! Kill me now!” Piper grabbed a box of Swedish Fish from her haul. “AND he’s a total smoke show. If you’
re ditching Josh for him—”

  “I’m not ditching Josh. Ben’s just a new friend.”

  “Then why did you keep him secret?”

  “I didn’t. We met on the airport bus two weeks ago and I haven’t seen him since.”

  “Until you got an eyeful last night.”

  Yeah, FCUK…

  Piper bit her lip. “Mmmm, stripping, huh?”

  “If you could call it that,” said Riley. “He got fired and needed a place to crash, so I let him sleep on the loveseat—and before you ask, nothing happened.”

  “Well, if you’re not interested—”

  “Why would I be interested?”

  “Duh! His socks, Rye! Funny socks on a hot guy? You LOVE that—or at least you said you did.” Piper’s eyes lit up. “And he knows Mark Keegan!”

  “I guess…”

  Piper abandoned the candy and grabbed Riley’s phone from the milk crate, entering the security code.

  “What are you doing?”

  Piper scrolled until she found what she was looking for. “Texting myself Benjamuffin’s number…oh! He sent you a Facebook friend request.” She handed the phone back and flipped a page in the binder, scowling. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

  “Wait, I need to text Josh, confirm details for later.”

  “I can’t believe you’re flying to Minnesota for twenty-four hours. Why isn’t the game in North Dakota?”

  “The final is in a different city every year.” Riley typed and hit send.

  See you afterward outside the arena’s restaurant. Lots of luck!

  “Done with PuckHead?” Piper raised an eyebrow.

  “Pip!”

  “At least with you going there, you can’t drag me to a noisy sports bar where I’d probably get a migraine.”

  Riley’s phone lit up with a text.

  Thx, baby! Super hyped! Scouts from the Wild here—guess who they came for? Luv ya.

  Riley dropped her phone on her lap. “Just wait until you have a boyfriend or girlfriend…”

  “Might be sooner rather than later if Ben goes out with me.” Piper playfully nudged Riley.