by AC Netzel
Ben sure can brood.
I’m going to make him break first. I don’t care if the words uttered from his mouth are curses at me; he’s breaking the silent treatment.
We eat our sandwiches in silence. I sneak a peek at him as he’s looking forward. God, I love his profile. It’s taking all my self-control not to trace his perfect lips with my finger and run the back of my hand against his five o’clock shadow. Look how fast his stubble has grown in… so sexy. I bet that would feel really nice rubbing against my skin.
I wish he’s stop looking like… him. It gives him an unfair advantage. He always looks so damn good. Concentrate on your anger, Julia.
Okay, I have to stop stealth-gawking. I turn my head and look toward the window. There’s not much to see, just sky. When I turn my attention back to the television in front of me, I catch Ben staring at me. I recognize that look. That’s his “how long before I take her clothes off” look. Our eyes briefly meet; he catches himself and stares ahead.
We’re twenty minutes into our sandwiches and he’s still not talking. It’s time to mess around with him. Knowing Ben is one of those “coaster people”; I grab my wine glass and take a sip, placing it back down directly on the table—right next to the coaster.
Ben side-eyes the glass. That’s right Ben, it’s off the coaster. Your precious table is getting wine sweat. Just look at the tiny beads of condensation trickle down the glass and puddle on the table. That may leave a stain.
Trickle.
Trickle.
Trickle.
His jaw clenches and he inhales deeply. I know this is killing him. Yeah, I’m a spiteful bitch and this is childish, but I love needling him. All he has to do is talk to me and I’ll move the glass.
He surprises me by ignoring it and turning his attention back to the television. I’m tempted to say something, but I’m just as much of a stubborn ass as he is.
I give up. I’ve had enough. Standing, I head down the hallway to the bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror. I’m tired of playing this game. If Ben wants to continue this silent treatment, he can do it alone. I’m leaving.
I walk out of the bathroom and, per my usual routine, sneak into the Coin Shrine to peek at his laptop. I might as well know what I’m in for when he submits the next batch of chapters.
After carefully opening it, I find the document is already opened. There are just two words typed on the page.
Too much.
What the hell?
Quietly, I close the laptop and make my way back to the living room. Too much… what could that mean? Too much? Am I too much? No, he wrote this before our meeting today.
I stop midstep and watch Ben sitting alone on the floor. His elbow is leaning on the coffee table and his forehead resting in his hands. And I realize…
I’ve been playing juvenile games all night and he’s exhausted and overwhelmed. I failed him. I always look at him as being so strong… and he is. But those two simple words reveal his vulnerability; his anger was masking it. He needed me and I didn’t see it. I just didn’t see it.
Of course. His grandmother’s hospitalization, the endless travel, the deadlines and rewrites, his father, his entire shitty family, and keeping our relationship from cracking under all the pressures he’s under.
I love this man and I completely missed the fact that he’s been drowning right in front of me.
All I want to do is hold him and love him… but it’s clear to me now that what I want isn’t important. What’s important is what he needs. And the fact that he’s not speaking to me tells me that maybe, right now, what he doesn’t need is me. If he wanted me here, he’d say so.
His silence said everything. I just didn’t listen.
I walk to the table and grab the napkin next to my plate. I place my wine glass on the plate and wipe away the puddle of water. Then take the plate into the kitchen and leave it in the sink.
Embarrassed that I’m the epitome of a crappy girlfriend, I button up my blouse and walk back into the living room. I should leave. When he wants me, he knows where to find me.
What he needs is worth so much more than winning a stupid argument.
Saying nothing, I walk to the door and grab my handbag off the table near the closet. Ben’s hand comes out from nowhere and grabs my wrist. I drop the bag and look at him. Butterflies in my stomach flutter wildly as he takes a step forward, closing the gap between us. I feel the charge in the air and I know he does too.
He pushes me against the door, his hip pinning me against it. He grabs my face in his hands, our gazes meet, and in one quick swoop, our mouths crash together. His tongue sliding into my mouth: wet, warm and perfect. A moan escapes from the back of my throat. I reach up and tangle my fingers in his hair, pulling him to me. He breaks our kiss, gazing at me with a fire in his eyes, tilting my chin up toward him with his index finger.
Again, he swoops down and kisses me hard, long, passionately; unbuttoning my blouse with his free hand then sliding it off and dropping it on the floor. I grab the bottom of his shirt and pull it over his head. He takes a step back and we gaze at each other. Panting wildly. Ready to devour.
I stretch my arm across and touch his bare chest, splaying my fingers across his muscular chest then gliding my fingertips down every steely contour of his chiseled abs. He looks down at my hand then back up at me then scoops me into his arms and carries me toward his bedroom. I lace my hands around his neck and rest my head against his bare chest.
Kicking the bedroom door open with his foot, he carries me in, placing me down gently on the bed. He grabs each boot and pulls them off my feet, dropping them on the floor. Without breaking eye contact, he pulls his sweats and boxer briefs off, standing in front of me, magnificently naked and aroused.
He crawls on the bed and peels down my skirt. I reach behind my back and unsnap my bra, tossing it on the floor. I lie in front of him in just my garter belt and white silk panties. He exhales, it’s almost a groan. He unclips my garter belt, slowly rolling each stocking down my legs. I’m a tingling mess watching him undress me. He grabs my silk panties and slowly rolls them off until I’m lying in front of him naked, except for my garter belt that I already know he has no intention of removing.
I’m desperate for his touch. My heart is racing wildly. My sex is throbbing, desirous, and wet for him.
He gazes at me appreciatively, then moves my legs apart with his knee. He positions himself on top of me and in one quick movement, thrusts deep inside me, holding himself in place, looking down at me.
I gaze back up at him, expecting him to move at a punishing rate, the way our make-up sessions usually go, but he doesn’t. He moves slowly, deliberately, a man making passionate love to a woman. He stills momentarily, holding himself steady inside me, never breaking eye contact.
In this moment, I see everything I missed earlier; his worries, his weaknesses, and his undying love. No words are spoken, none are needed… the message is clear. My eyes mist up as I feel his love wash over me… so profound and utterly beautiful… it overwhelms me.
All I want is to love this man. Just love him.
This has nothing to do with sex. Ben doesn’t just want me. He needs me. He needs this. He needs us. What we are, what we mean to each other is what soothes him.
I let go of my pointless anger and give myself to him. My heart. My body. My soul.
He begins to move, worshipping me with each thrust deeper… over and over again. My heart races and I melt into the exquisite feel of every thick rock-hard inch of him inside me.
His tongue slides into my mouth, twined with mine; warm, velvety, and luscious. His kisses, his soft touches, this naked flesh on naked flesh… I feel desired. And I relish in it. I wrap my arms around him and rake my nails down his back, inciting a salacious moan from him.
He shifts his position slightly, hitting just the right spot to send me over the edge. My back arches up, meeting his thrusts until I have nothing left to give and surrender to wave after wave of
pure bliss.
Ben finds his own release, tilting his head back as he hisses through his clenched teeth. He stills, gazing down at me. At first he looks serious, then his expression softens and he smiles.
He doesn’t say a word, he doesn’t need to. His eyes tell me everything. God, I love this man. He kisses my lips gently and moves to the side of me.
I turn to my side and face him while he steadies his breath. Gently, I trace his jawline with my fingertip. He gazes at me with a loving expression that pulls on my heartstrings.
And I know we’re okay.
He grabs hold of my finger, bringing it to his lips and kisses it. Rolling out of bed, he grabs his boxer briefs. I frown, trying to figure out what he’s doing. I thought this was us making up. But he’s leaving. If he were just using the bathroom, he wouldn’t bother with clothes.
He walks to the bedroom door, turning back to me and holds up a finger, gesturing he wants me to wait here.
O-kay?
I lie back down staring up at the ceiling with my brows crinkled, a little confused. The apartment is quiet until I hear a faint clicking noise, like the sound of the pilot light on his stove.
What the hell is he doing?
Two minutes later he walks into the bedroom with one hand behind his back.
He kneels down on the bed and shows me what he’s hiding.
I cover my mouth and laugh. It’s a toasted marshmallow on a wooden skewer. He actually toasted a marshmallow on his stovetop for me because he knows I love them.
This is his apology.
And it’s perfect.
Chapter 11
Ben’s grandmother has been in the hospital for a little over a week. He tries to sound upbeat when he talks about her, but I know it’s killing him on the inside. I want to help, find the right words, do the right thing, but I’m afraid I’ll say something wrong and make things worse.
This frail woman is his hero. I can’t imagine what he’d do if… I can’t even think about the if.
“How is she doing?” I ask, stroking his arm.
“I think she’s doing better. The color in her cheeks was coming back a little. She’s tired, but that’s to be expected,” he says.
“Are you sure I should go in? I don’t want to disturb her or the rest of your family if they’re here too.”
He frowns, confused by my question. “Yes. I want you there. She’ll be happy to see you.”
“Okay.”
I really don’t want to go in. It’s not that I don’t like his grandmother. I adore her. I’m not good at these types of situations: visiting people who are dying… or may be dying. Whatever. I don’t know what the right thing to say is. But Ben needs me here. So here is where I am.
“Ready?” Ben asks, his palm pressed against the door to her hospital room.
I nod, rubbing the back of his shoulder gently with an “everything is going to be fine” smile plastered on my face.
We walk into her private room. An unpleasant blend of hospital disinfectant and an overpowering floral scent is wafting in the air. I hate that smell. It reminds me of illness and death. I glance around the perimeter of the room. There are gorgeous wall to wall floral bouquets and one large balloon bouquet, yet the room still feels sterile.
I look at Ben’s grandmother, asleep in her bed and seated right next to her is my least favorite person in the world.
Cam-eel.
I hope she’s sober this time… wouldn’t want her to revert back into the Star Spangled Psycho.
A huge grin spreads across her face. “Hi Ben,” she says coyly. This girl is beaming like a hooker whose client just wants to talk for the night. Has she already forgotten about the sick woman lying right next to her?
“Camille,” Ben says with a quick nod.
“Oh. Hello Julia,” she says, visibly disappointed to see me.
That makes two of us.
Does she think my first name is “Oh”? She always addresses me the same way; “Oh Hello Julia.” like I’m one of those three-name celebrities I love reading about… like Sarah Jessica Parker or Neil Patrick Harris. At least I’m in good company.
“Hello Camille,” I say coolly.
Ben walks to the side of the bed, careful not to bump into the heart rate monitor or IV attached to his grandmother and places his hand on top of hers. She opens her eyes and smiles.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he says softly, bending down and kissing her forehead.
“I’m glad I can still be woken up,” she answers.
“Grandmother,” he warns, shaking his head disapprovingly.
“Relax, Leonard. I’m still here.”
Ugh, that name. It makes him sound like a geeky coin collector… Which I suppose, he is. I casually glance at him. Okay, Ben is restored.
“And you will be here for a very long time.” He squeezes her hand and kisses her forehead again.
She looks at me and smiles. “Julia, I’m so glad you made it.”
“It’s good to see you, Mrs. Martin,” I tell her.
Camille rolls her eyes at our exchange. Can your hate for me be a little more apparent? This girl irks the shit out of me.
“Ben, you don’t have to stand. Squeeze in next to me.” Cam-eel shifts over in her seat. “We can share this chair.”
I peek at the empty chair in the corner of the room and then back at Cam-eel.
Can you be a little more transparent? Pathetic.
I have to hand it to her; the girl has balls. Big fat stupid balls. Next thing you know, she’s going to push this little old lady to the floor, hop on the bed, and offer herself to him.
“Thanks, I’m good,” he says politely, redirecting his attention back to his grandmother. “How’s my favorite person in the world doing today?”
“I’m fine. But I think I may have moved into the number two slot,” she answers, winking at me.
“No, Mrs. Martin. You’re definitely number one, rightfully so. I’m perfectly happy in the number two slot.” I shake my head and smile.
“Where do I fall on your list?” Cam-eel asks, wide-eyed.
Oh my God, this girl is unbelievable.
Ben frowns, ignoring her question, and redirects his attention back to his grandmother.
“Are you comfortable? Do you need more pillows? Want me to adjust the bed? What can I do for you?” he asks.
“A favor. The hospital food is terrible. Can you go to the cafeteria on the first floor and get me something edible, like a tuna sandwich?”
“Is that on the diet the doctors prescribed for you?”
“I don’t care. Listen to your grandmother and do as I say. This sandwich could be my dying wish,” she says, playfully.
“You’re not dying, Grandmother.”
“Not today,” she teases. “Someday.”
“You’re an impossible woman.” He chuckles, shaking his head.
“Go. Julia can keep me company.” She glances at me and smiles warmly.
Did she just slight Cam-eel? Maybe my hatred of her is distorting my perception, but I’m pretty sure she just threw out some giant “Time for you to leave” shade.
Cam-eel clears her throat. “I should get going.” Okay, she’s not entirely devoid of a brain, she took the hint. “Ben, I’ll walk out with you.” Naturally, she has an ulterior motive, to get herself a little alone time with my boyfriend.
Good luck with that, honey. He doesn’t want you.
“Okay. Do you want anything, Julia?”
The only thing I want is for Cam-eel to leave, and you’re taking care of that.
“No, I’m good,” I tell him.
“Alright. I won’t be long. Camille, are you ready?”
“I was born ready,” she murmurs seductively.
She’s coming on to him, in front of his girlfriend and sick grandmother? This girl oozes class.
“Julia, sit over here, next to me,” Kitty tells me, her voice soft and weak.
I sit in the vacated chair as B
en and the Duchess of Delusion leave the room.
“You don’t like Camille very much, do you?” she asks.
“She’s fine,” I lie.
She smiles coyly. “No, you don’t. Between you and me, I don’t like her either. I was pretending I was asleep, hoping she’d take the hint and leave.”I tilt my head and frown. From what Ben has told me, Camille has always visited his grandmother. I thought they had a friendly relationship. She continues.
“On occasion, she’ll come around to visit me. Here, at my home, at the rehab facility when I injured my hip. But she’s doing that to stay in the good graces of my grandson. She thinks it’ll win her points.”
My eyes widen. How is it that this old woman can see things so clearly, and Ben is blind as a bat when it comes to Cam-eel?
“Desperate girl. Anyone can see he has no interest in her. She lays on the floor like a doormat for him. He needs a strong woman. But she’s my granddaughter’s best friend and her parents are close friends with my son and Beverly. There’s no getting rid of her.”
I place my hand over my mouth to hide my smile. She has never spoken so candidly to me before. She pats my other hand.
“When you’re my age, you can lose the filters. It’s one of the few perks we old people get before we go off to the great beyond.”
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“My mind is still sharp as a knife, but my body is tired. I’m dying.”
“No, Mrs. Martin, don’t say that.”
“It’s true. It’s alright, dear. My life was good. I lived it full and fearlessly. I don’t fear death… I never understood why people do.”
“Is there something I can do for you? Something to make you more comfortable?” I ask, leaning in toward her.
She grabs my hand and holds it.
“I’m glad you’re here. We don’t have much time to talk before Leonard returns. My grandson may act brave, but I know this is difficult for him. My son and daughter-in-law aren’t exactly the nurturing types. And I love my granddaughter to bits, but she can be a pain in the ass. Between you and me, when she was a little girl, my husband and I used to call her Elizabitch, our little prima donna. She’s probably in my apartment right now putting stickers with her name on all the crystal and china she wants to claim when I’m dead. But she has her gay husband to care for her, and he’ll deal with it.”