by Lindy Zart
“I figured out your problem.”
I finally look at him, noting how the sun hits his face just right, turning it into a wonderland of planes, dips, and angles. Ben has sharply honed looks that could be considered too severe by some. I find him magnetically attractive; he pulls me to him each time he’s near. I wish I could tell him that, but I know he’d only mock me if I did. I wish I could tell him a hundred things I’ll never be able.
“So now I only have one?” Where did that raspy voice come from and how is it mine?
He studies me for a moment, water droplets coating his long eyelashes. “You have phobias.”
I scoff, even though I know I do. But who doesn’t? Anyone would have a bad reaction to being thrust into a world they don’t understand. “I do not.”
“Yes. You do. How do you function on a daily basis?” I would get mad if he was being cruel, but he sounds legitimately confused.
“I exist perfectly well when I am where I want to be.” My jaw aches with how tight it is.
Ben faces forward, crinkles lining his eyes when he looks toward the sun. “How’s that working out for you right about now?”
9
BEN
Avery jumps to her feet and stomps toward a copse of trees, her shoes squishing with each step. Her white shorts became see-through from her encounter with the lake. I catch glimpses of rainbow-printed panties as she moves. It makes me want to sink my teeth into her soft flesh and—I pull air into my lungs. Down, boy. Remember: Even if you like certain things about her—a lot—you don’t like her. That cancels out everything else.
I slowly stand and swipe fingers through my wet hair. “Where are you going?”
She whirls around, her eyes snapping as she announces, “I’m getting out of here!”
That look in her eyes, remembering the feel of her mouth, her body emphasized by her wet clothes—it’s too much. I grind my teeth together and jerk around as if I’m not in control of my body. And let’s be honest: I’m not. The last thing we need is for Avery to see the imprint of my erection through my shorts. A fricking furnace was flipped on inside my boxers.
“You don’t—” My voice cracks. I clear my throat and start over. “You don’t know what direction to go.”
“I don’t care. These circumstances will not beat me. I will not let them. I am done feeling sorry for myself,” Avery rants. “I’m walking, Ben, even if it’s to nowhere, and if it is to nowhere, well, as long as I’m not sitting here feeling sorry for myself, that’s fine. I’ll just keep walking and—what are you doing?”
I try to think of something that sounds legitimate, but before I can produce the words, Avery has a hand around my biceps and pulls me around. Her gaze drops, her face pales, and she backpedals as if she’s scared or horrified. I cross my arms and roll my eyes at her reaction.
“What is that?” she whispers, her focus riveted to my lower half.
Feeling oddly embarrassed, I snap, “It’s a dick, Avery. Don’t act like you haven’t seen one before.”
“Oh my God, it’s moving!”
What the hell is her problem? In a bored tone, I comment, “Yeah, it likes to dance when it gets excited too.”
“Ben.”
“What?”
Avery’s wide eyes finally lift to mine, her lips still even as quiet words leave her mouth. “I think it’s a leech.”
I freeze, a hum beginning in my ears. I can barely hear my own voice when I ask, “What?”
She points, a grimace on her face. “On your thigh. It looks like a leech.”
“Get it off.”
“Ben.”
I jerk my head back and forth, not wanting to hear whatever she’s going to say. “Get it off.”
“Ben!”
“Get it off,” I roar, squeezing my eyes shut. I can feel the blood as it drains from my face and probably goes directly into the little bloodsucker’s mouth.
Don’t pass out, I tell myself.
I’m not generally scared of anything smaller than me, but leeches? Hell yes, I’m scared of leeches. Do they even have eyes …? And those serrated suctioning needle teeth? Anything involving blood makes me feel sick, and when it’s my blood going places it shouldn’t, as in outside my body and into a monster worm’s mouth, it’s a million times worse.
“How?” Avery asks.
I fight to stay on my feet. I can barely hear the words even as I say them. “I don’t know. Just do it.”
“Okay. I can do this. Okay. Okay.” Avery moans, a whimpering sound leaving her. “I don’t want to touch it.”
“I don’t want it sucking my blood either!”
“What if latches on to me next?”
I sway forward, feeling grayness creep over me. “Avery…please.”
“How, Ben? How do I get it off?”
“Just…” I stab a finger into the air. “Just let me think for a moment.”
Sweat breaks out on my skin as I try to remember what I know about leeches. I read all the articles I could find on them after watching Stand by Me when I was fourteen, but that was a long time ago. I clap my palms to my eyes and press. I remember that the reason I can’t feel the leech draining my blood is because once they attach to a host, they release an analgesic substance that numbs the skin. They drink until they’re full and then they fall off. I know that they can’t be removed easily.
Think, Ben, think.
I drop my hands and look at Avery.
She looks expectantly back.
“You have to hook your thumb under the sucker from the side and pop it off.”
She gulps, her face turning white. Avery shakes her head. “Oh, no. I can’t. I can’t do that.”
I take her face in my hands, refusing to look down, refusing to look at anything but Avery. “Yes, you can. You survived crows and a goat; this is easy in comparison. You can do this.”
Avery blinks, her hands forming to the backs of mine. Within instants, resolution hardens her expression. She nods once. “You bet your ass I can.”
I barely have enough time to allow a small smile to form on my lips before Avery leans down. I close my eyes as a tiny tugging sensation forms on the front of my upper thigh. With a small cry, Avery stomps her foot down just as I open my eyes. Looking repulsed, she runs the sole of her tennis shoe along the ground and announces, “It’s gone.”
I force air in and out of my lungs and still can’t seem to get enough.
“Do I have to siphon the wound?” she wonders, eyes on my thigh.
I contemplate telling her yesto mess with her, but instead, I shake my head. “It’ll be fine.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“A lot?”
She shifts her eyes to mine. “Why don’t you look?”
“Blood makes me queasy.”
Avery snorts and crosses her arms. “And you say I have issues.”
I narrow my eyes at her. Tearing off the end of my shirt, I wrap it around my thigh and knot it. I must look pretty ridiculous sporting nothing but boxers and a makeshift bandage for clothing. The thought raises the level of my irritation. “At least I’m not scared of water.”
“Seeing as how you got a leech on you from being in it, maybe you should be.”
“Take off your clothes,” I croak.
She blinks. “What?”
“Take off your clothes. We need to check each other over for more leeches.”
“I am not getting naked in front of you,” Avery declares with a sniff.
“You don’t have to get naked,” I say irritably. “You can leave on your bra and underwear.”
With lifted eyebrows, I wait for Avery to unclothe.
She hesitates. “Let me check you first.”
With a shrug, I turn and show Avery my back. Time seems to pause as a featherlight touch slides down my spine. I stiffen but don’t move. I like it too much. Her voice wobbly, Avery tells me I’m clear.
I take a shallow breath and turn. Avery’s heavy-lidded eyes hit me, and my body
responds as if lightning strikes it hard, everything going taut, everything tingling. The way she looks at me undoes some tightly locked part of me.
I reach for the hem of her shirt and pull her toward me. Anything telling me to stay away is now silent; even my conscience is waiting to see what happens next. The need to touch her is fierce, my hands palming her waist before I can talk myself out of it. My fingers reflexively tighten, not wanting to let her go. She’s shaped like a goddess, softly curved, kissed with peaches and pinks. Avery doesn’t fight, doesn’t make a sound. Hooking my fingers around the thin material, I slide my hands up her sides and tug the shirt over her head. My mouth goes dry at the sight of her lacy pink bra
Time ticks by, bursting of unfulfilled desires brought on by undeniable chemistry.
Her socks and shoes come off next. Then Avery tugs off her shorts, baring shapely legs and the rainbow panties that are way more seductive than they should be. I realize it’s her—she makes everything sensual. I drink in her curves and hollows, knowing I’ll never witness a more perfect female form.
“You’re beautiful,” I rasp, speaking truthfully.
She looks back, swallowing once. Passion dances in her eyes. That, and something else. Something that makes her seem more human, almost vulnerable. Something I don’t want to think about right now.
“The tattoo on your back,” she murmurs. “What does it mean?”
It’s the kind of tattoo a college kid gets when their baseball team is undefeated and they’re feeling invincible—a baseball with their jersey number on it underneath the head of the school’s mascot, Reggie Redbird. “Just something I got in college.”
I turn her around, freezing at the sight of two black, slimy blobs between her shoulder blades. The desire instantly cools, clamminess taking its place. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Avery.”
“What is it?” she whispers. When I don’t answer, panic enters her tone. “What is it, Ben?”
“Don’t freak out, okay?”
She turns to stone. “Don’t say another word,” Avery warns. “Just…take care of it.”
Closing my eyes was a bad idea. I envision the mutant worms with their gaping mouths and teeth sucking the blood from Avery’s body. The sick sensation in my stomach grows, until I am positive I am about to vomit or pass out, possibly both.
“Get them off me, Ben. I did it for you.”
That should make me feel like a wimp, but machoism left me at the knowledge of a leech making a meal out of me. I tell myself to be a man and take air into my lungs. Trying not to think about how disgusting the worm feels to my fingers, I work at navigating my thumb under the sucker. I swallow back a gag at the feel of it on my skin.
“Is it gone? Is it gone, Ben? Ben!” Avery shrills, on the cusp of losing it.
And then, when my fingers won’t cooperate with my brain and remain motionless, she does.
“Oh, my God, of my God. Get it off me! Get it off me!” Avery screams and commences to hop around in a circle. She feels herself up, which would be erotic, if not for the screaming.
“Stop it! Avery.” I grab for her, but she dances away, her own cries overpowering mine. “Hold still!”
She sobs and moans, getting close to the water and out of reach.
I lunge for her before she tumbles back into the water, pulling her around to face me. She’s stronger than I realized, her elbow connecting with my chin at one point. I shake her until she stops fighting me. “Hold still and let me do this!”
Tears and dirt cover her cheeks; her eyes are bloodshot and swollen. When Avery’s mouth trembles, my heart lurches. Forcing calmness I don’t feel into my tone, I say, “Look at me, okay? Just look at me and nothing else. I’m going to be brave now, all right? But you have to be too.”
Her forehead slowly smooths. Avery’s shoulders relax, and she stares into my eyes.
“There. That’s better.” I give her a crooked smile. “I’m going to turn you around now, okay?”
Avery studies me for a moment, and nods.
“Good,” I continue softly. “I need you to hold still so I can get them off you.”
“Them?” she squeaks.
I wince at the blunder.
Avery demands in a high voice, “How many are there?”
“Two.”
Suspicion enters her eyes.
“I’m not lying. There’s just two. Now turn around and let me get them off you. I’ll be fast.”
With a look of resignation on her face, Avery turns her back to me.
I tightly grip her shoulder in one hand, tell myself I’m braver than I really am, and coming in from the side, hook my thumbnail under the sucker. My stomach heaves as it detaches, imagining I hear its high-pitched shriek of indignation at being removed from its food source. Worried it will somehow turn around and attach to me, I fling my arm wide, toward the lake.
“Are you done? Please tell me you’re done.”
“Shut up,” I tell her without any real heat.
A welt is left from the leech; a small stream of blood leaks from the puncture wound. The wrongness of its mark on Avery’s creamy skin is enough to make me dizzy—that, and the sight of her blood. Saliva enters my mouth, my throat working against the inclination to throw up.
With a grimace on my face, I remove the last one and pitch it in the same direction as the first one. I put pressure on her back, the small amount of blood sticky against my palm. The rust-and-salt scent makes my head swim and I breathe through my mouth. “There. They’re gone.”
Relief lightens Avery’s eyes as she faces me.
Her gaze drops; her lips part. Avery’s breath catches as she stares. I can’t breathe. Need, powerful and unquestionable, shreds me, making me its slave My dick swells like a prideful peacock under her scrutiny. Running my eyes across Avery’s frame, my attention lingers on her barely covered breasts before lowering to the apex of her thighs. No matter how many times I swallow, my mouth stays dry. An uneven tempo has overtaken my pulse. My hands shake—hell, my whole body shakes.
Avery jerks her gaze back to mine, the pink of her face darkening to red. She stumbles back a couple steps, her hands fisted at her sides. She breathes, and it comes out sounding like, “Ben.”
I hold myself still so that I don’t reach for her. I want to, badly. Desperately.
“T-thank you.”
I nod brusquely and march for the water, quickly washing her blood from my hands. My stomach lurches in disapproval at the sight of it. I stand motionless until my body calms down, but then a vision of her near nakedness flourishes inside my head. Rounded hips, heavy breasts, skin like silk. Desire in her eyes.
I take a hitched breath, and another, fighting for control. Because if I know nothing else, I know I have to keep my hands from Avery Scottam. I consider taking my chances with another bout of leeches by jumping in the lake to cool down. Instead, I tighten the strip of fabric around my leg.
10
AVERY
Ben wants me.
He may deny it until the day he dies, but he wants me. Still, I want more than lust from Ben. I want him to want me as a person more than his body wants mine. Knowing he never will, and that it’s my fault, makes me crabby.
“I’m hungry,” I announce waspishly as we trample around trees and more trees. As we’ve walked, the sun’s lowered in the sky. How much more daylight do we have?
This is like the never-ending forest of doom, and if we ever make it out of here alive, I might write a book titled exactly that. Probably, though, I’ll just be traumatized and never leave my home again. Most people look at the vastness of the world as amazing; I look at it as a cesspool of things I’d rather avoid.
Without speaking a word, Ben stops, pulls the backpack off his shoulders, and hands it to me. He hasn’t said anything since the almost-naked-leech incident. I shudder as I remember the horror of it all. Seeing his nicely muscled body wasn’t horrible. In fact, that was quite nice. The rest of it? Yes, definitely horrible.
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I swing the backpack my way with a little too much exuberance and end up toppling backward. I swear there’s an instant where Ben considers letting me fall on my face, but in the end, he grabs my arm. Only thing is, he pulls me forward hard, which in turn puts him off balance. The end result is both of us on the ground with me partially lying on Ben, the cut on Ben’s cheek reopened and bleeding. He must have hit it on something sharp as we fell.
Ben is motionless as I lean into him, nothing but a whisper between us. My senses are heightened by his nearness, raw with need. His heart pounds wildly against my chest. My body feels submerged in liquid flames. I keep my eyes lowered. If I look up, I don’t know what I’ll do. Probably lustfully attack him. I take a shallow breath and focus on the line of blood cutting a trail across Ben’s cheek.
I gingerly finger his marred flesh, careful to keep my touch light. He flinches, but holds himself still. “You’re bleeding.”
Ben’s face whitens. “Thanks for pointing that out for me. Exactly what I wanted to hear.”
My teeth capture my lower lip and work at it nervously. “Are you going to pass out?”
A muscle in his jaw flexes. “We can only hope.”
“Right. Pass out. Great idea. Just leave me alone out here with wild beasts and flying horrors and biting insects.”
“You got it,” Ben says much too smoothly.
“It needs to be cleaned,” I tell him, narrowing my eyes.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not.”
“It is,” Ben says through his teeth.
“It will scar.”
“Maybe it’ll make me more interesting.”
I shrug. “Fine. Let it get infected then.”
“I will. I like infections. The more puss, the better.”
“You’re disgusting,” I tell him firmly.
Ben cocks his head and checks off his fingers. “Disgusting…unattractive…boring. Anything else you’d like to add to the list?”
My face flames. “Yes. Stubborn.”
“Stubborn. Got it.” Ben nods and turns his molten gaze on me. “Can you please move?”