“Do you want me to help?”
“No, go on. You and Noah have a long drive down to Mom and Dad’s, and I’m sure you’re both tired. I’ll call you in the morning.”
Peyton and I hug, and Noah comes over to kiss me on the forehead. As soon as I hear the door shut, I’m in the kitchen grabbing a garbage bag.
“What was that?” Ben asks, leaning his hip against the counter.
“What?”
He points over his shoulder and laughs. “Your overly possessive display of affection. Are you jealous of Bailey?”
“No.” I step by him and start picking up every bottle and tin can I find.
“I think you are.” Ben tosses a few into the bag.
“You’re being ridiculous.” The bottle of wine I opened earlier is still there. Sitting next to it is an empty one, which honestly I don’t remember drinking. I pick it up, bringing the glass rim to my lips and drink the remaining contents, swaying a bit as I drop the bottle into the bag.
“You’re drunk.” Ben tries to take the bag from my hand, but I pull away.
“Am not.”
“You are. I’m fairly certain you drank both bottles of wine.”
“Peyton had some.”
Ben shakes his head. “Peyton doesn’t drink, and you know it.”
“It’s because she’s so perfect right, is that it? Do you like her or something?”
“Elle…”
“No, don’t ‘Elle’ me.” I drop the bag and step toward him. He reaches out to catch me as I lose my balance. “You and Quinn are the same. Always harping at me about my drinking and throwing Peyton in my face and how perfect she is. Do you like her, Ben? I know you spent a lot of time with her at the hospital and when she was living with my parents. Did something happen between the two of you?”
He looks at me and frowns.
“Think long and hard about your answer because—”
“Because what? You’ll be mad at me if I did something with Peyton?”
“You know what, I don’t need this.” I sidestep, only to have him grab my arm and pull me back to him.
“You don’t get a say in who I like or what I do with other women, Elle.”
“Let go of me, Ben.” He does but keeps one hand on my waist.
“Your sister is in love with Noah.”
“And you’re in love with her!”
Ben shakes his head and steps away from me. He bends down for the bag and continues to pick up the empty bottles. “Go home, Elle.”
“No, I told you I’d help. I made this mess, and I’ll clean it up.” I reach for the bag and try to tug it out of his hand. His resistance is causing the bag to sway back and forth, hitting us both in the legs. “Let go.”
“No.”
“You’re such a child.” I yank harder this time, and so does he, the thick plastic stretching.
“And you’re drunk and in need of some help. Don’t you see it? You’re self-destructing, and there isn’t anything we can do to stop you. I want to though. I want to be the friend you need, help you through whatever’s going on in your head.” Ben steps closer and points to his temple. “Let me help you, Elle.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” I roar as I push him away. I’m angry and keep pushing until Ben’s back is against the wall on the opposite side of his apartment.
“Elle?” His hand comes toward me, but I bat it away. He tries again, and this time I close my fist and cock my arm back. I try with all my might to hit him, but he’s faster than I am. His hand closes around my fist, and the force of my movement has me crashing into him.
I look into his eyes as a barrage of hateful words form in my head. I expect Ben to let me go, but he doesn’t. He places his arm around my back and pulls me to his body just as his lips press against mine.
6
Ben
For years, I’ve imagined what it would be like to kiss Elle, to finally feel her lips touch mine, to have her body pressed against me, and to have her fingers tug at the ends of my hair. I can easily say, without a doubt, that it’s the best feeling in the world. In fact, it’s more than that, because she’s not pulling away. She’s not pushing against me, telling me to stop, even though, deep down I know we should. However, for the life of me, I can’t bring myself to be the one to suggest we take a step back because I want this. I’ve wanted to kiss her for as long as I can remember. For purely selfish reasons, I wrap my arm tightly around her in hopes of memorizing her and this moment.
Elle’s fingers loosen their grip on my hair, leading me to believe this is over. It’s fine. This will go down as one of the best birthday gifts of my life. I can live with this, burying it deep in my subconscious. Only her hands are now on my waist with one under my shirt. Her fingers are ice cold. They’re a welcome reprieve against my scorched skin. Her other hand is tugging at the button on my jeans. Any moment now she’s going to realize what’s going on and step back, flushed not because we’re making out but because she’s embarrassed by the fact that it’s me she’s kissing, and I don’t want to see her like that.
“Elle.” My strangled and broken voice sounds nothing like me.
“Don’t talk, Ben.”
“We should stop.” Even though I don’t want to, Elle is who I picture my life with, the woman I see bearing my children, raising a family and growing old with. I’ve tried to see others in this role, but to no avail. It’s always Elle.
“No, we shouldn’t.” Her lips are everywhere, while I stand here like a fish out of water looking for oxygen. I close my eyes and picture us together, between my sheets, moving fluidly against one another.
“You’ve had a lot to drink.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“I didn’t say you were, but I want you to think about what you’re doing, what we’re about to do. Because there’s no turning back, Elle.”
“I want this, Ben.”
That’s all I need to know. I bend down and slide my arms under her legs. She reacts instantly, hopping into my hold and wrapping her legs around my waist. Hands are everywhere. Mine are firmly gripping her ass, and hers are cupping my face. Our lips fight for dominance over one another while I navigate toward the couch. There’s nothing like a great make-out session to end the semester and the perfect birthday party.
“Bedroom,” she says, tearing away from my mouth. Her lips press against the stubble on my jaw, until she reaches my ear. I suck in a deep breath when her teeth pull on my lobe, the sharp sting sending minute shock waves through my body. I must be dreaming. None of this can actually be my reality. With my luck, I’m going to wake up in the middle of my living room floor, naked as the day I was born, and suffering from a massive hangover.
Except, I know I didn’t drink very much, especially when I’m around Elle out of fear she’ll overdo it and I need to come to her rescue. We stumble into my wall, causing us both to disengage from each other. I use this time to ask the dreaded question. “Are you sure?”
Her response isn’t verbal, but there’s no way I can misinterpret what her hand means when it's pressing against my crotch. I fumble with my door, kicking it open once the knob turns. As many times as I’ve stumbled through my room, I’ve never tripped, until now. Thankfully, we land on my bed, both of us groaning and readjusting until she’s scrambling away from me. I sit back on my knees, waiting for her to tell me what we’re doing is a mistake, but she doesn’t say anything.
“Elle?”
The only response I receive is the lifting of her shirt. I swallow hard at the sight of her body, one I’ve seen many times in a bikini, but this time everything is different. She reaches behind her, and I know she’s unclasping her bra. That should really be something I do, but maybe she knows I’m nervous and is trying to show me she wants to be with me.
I follow suit and start undressing. Before I know it, we’re both on our knees, facing each other, naked, and my God is she beautiful. Elle pushes her long dark hair over her shoulders, giving my eyes access to every
part of her chest. For years, I could only dream about seeing her in the flesh, and now here she is.
“Touch me.” Elle reaches for my hand, pulling me toward her until my hand is firmly cupping her breast. I’m at a loss for words, which I should be. My actions need to be loud and clear where she’s concerned. I move forward. My free hand grips the back of her neck, bringing her closer. Our lips touch, tongues collide, and hands move freely against each other. She’s on top, grinding into me, and then it’s me pressing into her before I can no longer stand not knowing how she feels.
I pull the drawer of my bedside table open. In the process, I knock over an uncapped bottle of water, the contents gushing out onto the floor. Normally, I’d be upset and rush to find a rag to soak up the mess, but there are more pressing issues calling my attention.
Once again, I’m sitting back on my knees and covering my erection. Elle’s eager and pulls me forward until I align with her. The words, asking if she’s sure, are sitting on the tip of my tongue, but they never have a chance to be said.
* * *
My arm is dead. Each time I try to wiggle my fingers, they tingle, and I beg the painful sensation to stop. I look at the beautiful woman holding my arm in place and can’t believe we’re waking up next to each other. I’m afraid to roll onto my side out of fear I’ll wake Elle. As much as I love her, she’s a grouch in the morning. No man needs to deal with Elle James without a cup of coffee.
Long gone are my blankets, kicked off the bed in the middle of our night fueled with passion. Her hair covers her back, possibly providing very little warmth. I lift my head to assess the situation I’m in. I’m still naked, and another glance at Elle shows me she’s the same. Man, how’d I get so lucky?
After last night, everything has changed for us. The thought brings a smile to my face. Finally, we can be together. No more cat and mouse games. There won’t be any more hidden feelings, especially from me. I know how she feels now.
As much as I want my arm back, I don’t dare pull it out from under her head. Instead, I inch closer and place my arm over her stomach, nestling into her. For as long as I can remember, Elle’s used the same shampoo. She always smells like the sun, beach, and coconut. Even on the rainiest of days, she can walk into a room and change my outlook by the smell of her hair. I close my eyes, content and happy with what’s transpired between us.
My hand rests on her stomach, moving up and down with the rise and fall of her breathing. I’m tempted to wake her up, but I also want her to sleep. She needs it. The demons she’s been dealing with sometimes get the better of her and right now, Elle seems to be at peace. I put her there, finally showing her how I’ve felt and how good we can be together. The thought of us staying in bed all day brings a stupid cheesy smile to my face. Honestly, I can’t imagine spending my day any differently.
I pull myself closer, tucking my hand under her breast. She stirs, mumbles something unintelligible and relaxes against me. Right now, in this moment, it’s my very own slice of heaven, right here, holding the woman I’m in love with, the morning after. I’m not sure my day, week or month could get any better.
Of course, it can. Elle could come with me to New York. It would mean she’d have to take a quarter off because it’s too late to secure an internship, but I’d make it worth her while. I know it’s not right for her to stop her education in favor of my dream, but I’ll ask her anyway. I’ll put the offer out on the table with the promise of late night walks in Central Park, strolls down Fifth Avenue, and shared bags of roasted nuts. We can visit the Statue of Liberty, take the train to Philadelphia or become baseball fans and start going to games. The opportunities to develop our relationship away from the social scene in Los Angeles, are endless. Plus Elle would be closer to Peyton, and with all the wedding planning starting, Elle could be at Peyton’s beckon call. All Elle has to do is say yes.
“Just say yes,” I whisper against her shoulder. “We can make all our dreams come true together.”
Elle stirs, much to my surprise. I honestly expected her to sleep well past noon. She rolls over and into my arms, snuggling into the crook of my neck. I could get used to this. In fact, I think I already am. I mean, who wouldn’t? Elle is the woman of my dreams, and here she is, lying in my arms.
“Hmm.” Elle’s fingers are in my hair, softly weaving in and out.
My leg moves between hers, tangling us together. “Yeah.” I sigh, contently and happily.
Elle’s body goes rigid. She pushes against my chest until her arms are in the fully locked position. “What’re you doing in my bed?”
The smile I’ve had since I woke up slowly starts to fade. Does she not remember last night? “We’re in my bed.”
Her head slowly turns, and her eyes dart back and forth wildly. She sits up quickly, her hand instantly going to her head. “Oh, God.”
Well, yes you did call out to him a few times last night. I fight the urge to say those words. I sit up and reach for her, but she recoils. Her negative response hits me square in the chest. My mouth goes dry, yet I have a serious need to swallow the pooling saliva in my mouth.
“Shit.”
“Elle?” She doesn’t look at me. Instead, she scrambles off the bed and tries to dress quickly. I say her name again, but she shakes her head.
“Nothing happened, right? I mean we’re naked, but it doesn’t mean we slept together. Please tell me we didn’t sleep together.”
I can’t look at her. This can’t be happening. My ears must be deceiving me because she’s asking me to tell her we didn’t have sex when we did. Why is she doing this?
“Ben?” Her voice is full of panic.
I shake my head, almost as if it’s an automatic response. “We kissed,” I tell her. “But I think we must’ve passed out. I don’t really remember.” Except I remember it all. Everything. Every word you said to me. The lie falls easily from my mouth. Her face morphs into something I can only describe as relief. She’s happy nothing happened between us and the realization guts me in the stomach. I turn my attention toward the wall, my bed, my bare legs, anywhere but at her. Blindly, I reach behind me and bring my pillow forward to cover myself up. I can’t bring myself to look at her, mostly out of fear I might start crying. She doesn’t need to see me like this.
“I’m going to go,” she says. All I can do is nod because any words I say will make me sound like I have a vise grip squeezing the life out of my family jewels. I’m not sure how long I sit like this. It’s long after my front room door closes, long after my back starts aching, and well past the point of a broken heart.
7
Elle
The soap lathers against my skin, covering me in white suds. I scrub, almost until my skin is raw, needing the pain to numb the thoughts running through my mind. In all the years Ben and I have known each other, and with all the stupid things we have done over those years, I have never woken up naked in his bed. Right now, I can’t explain it. Each time I close my eyes, I try to recall what happened last night. I know I was drinking. The wine was going down far too easily, but I’m drawing a blank.
Deep down, I know in my heart Ben would never take advantage of me, but it doesn’t explain how I woke up in his arms. Sure, we’ve slept in the same bed before, but there’s always been a pillow between us. I’ve always stayed on my side, and he his. And we’ve always kept our clothes on.
“What have I done?” Regretfully, there isn’t anyone to give me the answers I need, and I’m not confident in Ben’s answer. He tells me nothing happened, other than we kissed. I touch my lips, wishing I could recall the moment my best friend and I crossed the line. Did I initiate the kiss? If so, I hope it wasn’t some sloppy kiss overrun by drool. Ben deserves better, and if I was a drunken idiot, I hope I didn’t disappoint him.
However, I’ve disappointed myself. This is exactly what Quinn said, I need help, and admitting I have a problem is the first step, but do I? I mean, I had some fun at my best friend’s birthday party, who’s going to fault me
for enjoying myself?
“I am,” I say aloud. I should’ve never brought Ben into my messed up world. I know he’s been my rock, especially when Peyton had her accident, but I should’ve shut the door the minute my life started changing.
I rinse off, glance down at my torso, legs, and bring my arms into my line of sight. True to my nature, I’ve rubbed my skin raw. And for what? To erase the idea of Ben from my skin? That’s not right. I shouldn’t feel disgusted, but I do. Not because of who he is, but of what I’ve done.
Without really thinking, I grab my duffel bag and throw some clothes in there. Once I’m dressed, I’m rushing out of my apartment and to my car. Peyton and Noah are here for at least one more day. Not only do I need to spend some time with my sister, but I need to talk to her. She’ll know how to fix things with Ben and me.
Thankfully, traffic is minimal and what could’ve taken me two hours to get to my parents’ only takes one. I wish I could say I put my morning behind me, but I can’t. Thoughts of Ben’s naked body pressing against mine play like a traffic accident on the side of the road. You’re not supposed to look, but you do. You stare, craning your head until you can no longer see, and wonder what happened. Who caused the accident? Did anyone die? Did I know anyone?
I’m not likening my morning to an accident at all, however, each time I close my eyes, I can feel Ben behind me, and I can see him in all his glory, and I wish our circumstances were different because I can’t look away, no matter how hard I try.
I wipe angrily at the tears streaming down my face. If this isn’t a good enough reason to quit drinking, I don’t know what is. I can’t go through life waking up in beds, not remembering what happened the night before.
As soon as I pull into my parents’ driveway, I heave a sigh of relief. No one, besides Peyton, is going to know what happened, and telling her is going to be hard. I don’t want to be judged. I’m getting enough of that from Quinn, and supposedly my parents. Of course, walking in today will be a shock to them. I haven’t exactly been responsive to their requests.
My Unexpected Love: The Beaumont Series: Next Generation Page 4