Kiss a Stranger

by R. J. Lewis

  When Ben abruptly appeared at the doorway of my bedroom, I stilled and my eyes widened. He’d put his pants on, but his damp chest was still bare.

  Emily stopped talking and followed my line of sight. She froze, her mouth dropping as she trailed her eyes up and down his body.

  Motioning to him, I said, “This is –”

  “I’m the drunk girl from last night,” she interrupted speedily. “Emily.”

  Ben shot her a small smile. “Yes, you certainly are. Hi.”

  Insert a moment of silence.

  Well, this was awkward.

  “This is Ben,” I then told her. “Um… yeah.”

  “Cool,” she said, nodding heartily while she looked between the two of us. “Looks like you guys had a fun night.”

  Oh, I wanted to punch her.

  She grinned stupidly. “Really fun.”

  Ben smirked. “Yes, it was. Anyways, do you mind if I excuse myself for a few minutes? I need to make a phone call.”

  “Of course,” I replied. “Take your time. We’ll be downstairs.”

  I grabbed Emily’s arm and forcefully dragged her down the stairs, otherwise she’d have stood there all day, staring at him looking like a Satan possessed doll. The girl was in desperate need of a clean-up.

  The second we reached the bottom level, she stirred out of her daze and mouthed, “OH.MY.GOD!” while jumping up and down incredulously.

  Clutching the towel tightly against me, I reddened. “I know, right?”

  “You lucky bitch. How could you keep something like this from me?”

  “I didn’t mean to.”

  “How long have you been seeing him?”

  I shook my head. “I haven’t. Last night was the first time since the train.”

  Her eyes widened. “What? You’re Miss Cautious. How the hell did you let him get to you that fast?”

  Worry emerged in me. “I shouldn’t have?”

  “No, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… it’s been so long since you’ve let go. I didn’t think you had it in you anymore.”

  I looked up the stairwell to make sure he wasn’t hanging about, and then I steered her further down the hall until we were nearing the kitchen.

  “There’s something about him,” I confessed in a whisper. “I don’t know what. He held me all throughout the night, Em. Held me. Can you believe that?”

  She was too lost for words to respond.

  “It felt good,” I continued quietly. “Really good. And you wanna know the best bit?”

  She nodded eagerly. “Yes!”

  “He looked me in the eyes while we did it.”

  “Are you for real?”

  “Yeah.”

  She made a weird face. “So the books… they didn’t lie about that sort of thing?”

  “Nope. It was amazing. Like the kind of connection you can’t imagine.”

  She stewed on that for a few seconds. “Are you going to see him again?”

  I shrugged, trying to make light of the situation. “I don’t know. I might.” Depended on whether he wanted to.

  When we heard footsteps coming down the stairs, she quickly said, “Look, I’m going to sneak into the bathroom down here and give you some alone time. Do you mind if I showered too? I smell like a bucketful of burnt assholes.”

  “Go for it,” I told her.

  She shot off down the hall and disappeared into the bathroom just as Ben appeared. He’d finished dressing, to my disappointment. While it was sad his beautiful body was locked away again, the bigger part of me was anticipating this to be his moment of departure.

  Alas, all good things come to an end. If only good memories in dark times were enough to shed some light back in. Because that’s what he was going to be.

  A damn good memory.

  He smiled warmly at me as he approached me. He tucked his phone into his pocket, and the sight of it made me a little confused. It was one of those black, generic thirty something dollar phones. Far, far from fancy, or even of passable quality. He didn’t strike me as the kind of guy that had cheap taste.

  “Your friend still around?” he asked, pulling me away from my confusion.

  “No, she shot off to shower,” I answered.

  “Very interesting character, that one.”

  I chuckled. “Emily’s… a colourful girl.”

  Now what? I stood stiff and uncertain, knowing any second he was going.

  His hand shot up to my face, and he lightly brushed my cheek. It was so affectionate and endearing, I could do nothing but shut my eyes and savour it.

  “I looked through your room,” he told me quietly with a hint of a smile in his voice. “I came across your sketchbook. It was already wide open on your dresser. On a picture of me.”

  I kept my eyes shut. Someone kill me now. Like… NOW.

  “Yeah,” I simply mumbled. “I… drew you.”

  “You’re extremely talented.”

  I opened my eyes, timidly nodding. “Thank you.”

  “Have you been drawing all your life?”

  “Yes. I do it to make me feel better.”

  His brows came together. “There were a lot of sketches. Are you down a lot?”

  I shrugged. “I’m alright now.”

  He studied me for a little bit.

  “I had the best night with you,” he then said. “And an equally incredible morning. But the world’s turned back on again, and I have to leave.”

  I nodded again, putting on my fake smile as I dodged looking into his eyes. “Yeah, definitely. I get that.”

  Now ask for my goddamn number, Ben!

  “It’s important you know I never held any expectations when I arranged to see you,” he continued solemnly. “I only wanted to talk, but you’re so beautiful I couldn’t keep my goddamn hands to myself.”

  I couldn’t suppress the delicious tingles his words gave me. It was so nice to be wanted.

  He ran a hand through his perfectly tousled, wet hair, looking a bit conflicted as he glanced away from me for a thoughtful beat. He took a small step forward, crowding me with his presence when he added softly, “I’d like to see you again. If you’ll have me, of course.”

  YES! YES! YES!

  My lips curved upwards. “I’d like that too.”

  Those grey eyes roamed my face heatedly. God, he looked drunk off lust, and I knew once he walked out, I’d be spending an hour pinching myself to make sure this was truly my reality and not some desperate mind concocting the world’s hottest fantasy.

  He dipped his head and softly brushed his lips against mine. “Good,” he breathed before pulling away. “I’ll keep in touch.”

  “Okay.”

  A few seconds passed, and he still hadn’t asked for my number. So I took the plunge instead. “Do you want to exchange numbers?”

  “I already have your number,” he replied.

  I blinked at him in surprise.

  “It was in your wallet, remember?” he added with a smirk, like he could hear the question straight out of my head.

  “Right.” Duh, Claire, you idiot. “Can I have yours then?”

  He took a step back. “Like I said, I’ll keep in touch.”

  Seriously? He wasn’t going to give me it?

  What the fuck?

  He shot me a wink and started to leave. “See you soon, beauty.”

  And just like that, he was gone.

  Several moments after he left, I hurried to the front window overlooking the street. Parked in front of the house, the passenger door of a taxi shut the second I glanced out. The car took off down the street and out of view, taking with it the sexiest man I’d ever met.

  When had he called a taxi? He’d been on the phone merely minutes ago. They couldn’t have gotten here so fast.

  Unless the driver had been lurking about this entire time.

  *****

  “I can’t believe you gave him your wallet,” sighed Emily, kicking back on the couch as she flipped through the channels.
>
  I’d just spent the last twenty minutes going over what she’d missed out on, hoping she wouldn’t pry for more details. I’d omitted a lot, particularly about Ben knowing my address. I didn’t want her to turn against him and then try and convince me to steer clear.

  Besides, he’d been nothing short of caring and tender to me (if you omitted the harsh sex in the shower, of course). And he thought I was beautiful. Even with the Freddy Krueger scars, he looked at me with heat in his gaze, like he wanted to devour me.

  “What if he was some murderer,” she went on, breaking me out of my thoughts. “You’re an idiot.”

  “Says the girl that screwed a dude she didn’t even know last night,” I retorted, grabbing the remote harshly from out of her hands. “At least Ben and I talked. Do you even know the name of the dude you ditched me for?”

  Her jaw dropped as she glared at me. “As a matter of fact, I do. His name was Darryl. And we did talk.”

  “What did you talk about?”

  “A lot of shit.”

  “Like?”

  She didn’t respond straightaway. Then she murmured, “I didn’t know you thought I ditched you.”

  I rolled my eyes and shot her a sceptical look. “You threw some pothead wanna-be musician in my face to distract me so you could bump uglies with your prince charming.”

  She shuddered. “Definitely not my prince charming, and I’m sorry about the pothead. I really thought you’d be interested in him. He was cute. And I wanted you to stand on your own two feet without me holding your hand every step of the way.”

  “I know.”

  I settled on a mind numbing reality show and opened my text book to do some idle studying. We watched a bit before she said, “Why did he take so long to contact you?”

  I shrugged. “He travelled for a long time, and he was busy with work.”

  Her brows came together. I could see her brain working, but whatever was in there she didn’t vocalise.

  “So what went wrong with Derek exactly?” I asked, hiding my smile.

  She grunted in disgusted. “Derek’s dick went wrong, that’s what.”

  “Thought his name was Darryl.”

  She paused and went red.

  I let out a laugh. “Caught you, skank.”

  She threw a cushion in my face. “Whatever.”

  We killed a day watching shit television and eating nasty generic ice cream until our bloated bellies made us look like heavily pregnant chicks. She spent the night in the guest room, and I chatted to Mom for twenty minutes before going to bed.

  “Everything going alright?” I said, sounding upbeat.

  “Great, and you? Did you have a nice night out?” she asked.

  Downplay it, Claire! “Yes, it was pretty good, I guess.”

  “I’m so glad, hon. I really like hearing that.”

  “Do anything fun?”

  “Um, well,” she started, hesitantly. “I’ve done some things.”

  “Like what?”

  I could hear her moving around like she always did when she was nervous about something. I wondered what was wrong. This wasn’t like her.

  “Mom,” I said gently, “whatever it is, you can tell me.”

  “To keep my options open, I started applying for jobs here,” she blurted out. “I got a call back at one of the hospitals. I have an interview on Monday. But… You know, I won’t be taking it or anything. I’m just… I just applied for the hell of it. I’d never just leave you behind or anything –”

  “Slow down, Mom,” I interrupted her, feeling like my head was about to spin off. “I didn’t even know you were unhappy about your job here.”

  “I’m not unhappy or anything. I just did it. One of my spontaneous moments, you know?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Mom, you’re not a spontaneous person.”

  “Maybe I’m trying to be.”

  “Maybe you’re trying to get a job there to be with Kevin.”

  She didn’t respond right away. When she started to stammer, I cut in with, “If being there with Kevin will make you happy, then you should definitely consider moving there.”

  “Really?

  Yeah, Claire, really?

  Mom was the one constant in my life after I’d been attacked. The thought of being without her made me anxious. But at the same time, I was twenty one, and being on my own was something I’d always aimed for eventually. If she wanted to live with Kevin where she was happy and had a better job, then there was no chance in hell I was going to stand in the way of that.

  “Yeah,” I said, genuinely, “really. Keep me updated and let me know how your job interview goes.”

  “Okay,” she replied with surprise. “I’ll let you know.”

  We changed the subject and chatted about other things before I got off the phone to get some sleep.

  I stayed up in bed, smelling the scent of Ben all over my sheets. I stared hard at my still phone, wishing he’d call. Or text me. Or do anything to remind me I wasn’t some afterthought he wouldn’t bother with again.

  I got nothing.

  Chapter Nine

  On her hands and knees

  The days passed by.

  No word from Ben.

  Every second was spent agonizing over our time together. Every minute that passed made my body ache for his touch. Every hour felt like a hundred eternities. And the nights… Don’t get me started on the fucking nights.

  It was brutal.

  At first I was anxious with anticipation. He said he’d contact me, and I waited impatiently for something to happen. I’d pulled out my phone I’d stored away and rebooted it, at first treating it like a foreign entity I had no clue how to use. Once I familiarized with it again, I bought a month’s worth of credit and let nobody know I was back on the grid. I didn’t want to wait around and get hit with a text that wasn’t from him.

  Then I carried my phone like a nun carries her bible. It was my little salvation, breaking more holes in the darkness that nine months had shrouded me in and letting hope shine in.

  But anticipation soon faded into confusion. In every way imaginable, I asked myself why he hadn’t reached out, until my sanity was on a decline. When my confusion dissipated, I felt anger.

  How the fuck had I let a man control my emotions like this? It was humiliating. I was embarrassed of myself. Of my weakness. Of allowing someone in when they clearly hadn’t done the same. I’d been depressed before, sure. The scars had put me into hiding, but one night with Ben had me crumbling into an insecure mess that had me questioning my sensibility.

  Stupid, shallow Claire. Never learning your lesson, huh?

  He did what they had all done before him.

  Used me. Discarded me.

  Forgot me.

  *****

  I hated school on Wednesdays. One morning class followed by eight hours of waiting around in the library/school grounds before my dreaded night class was exhausting. It had me out of the house the entire day. By the time I got home, it was 10:30pm. An entire day sitting idle gave me busy legs, and so I expelled as much energy as possible by roaming the house well into midnight.

  Moby played in the background as I did a sketch. I redrew Ben’s face – not because I was obsessing about it, but because I hoped drawing it would rid me of thinking about him. After all, it helped the first time around.

  The second time would prove to be tricky. I added what I missed on my first sketch. It was more detailed by the time I finished, and seeing it look as close to a black and white photograph of him was a punch in the gut.

  I was deciding whether to burn the sketch or give him devil horns when the sound of ringing broke through my concentration. I startled and looked down at the vibrating phone, lighting up with the words “PRIVATE NUMBER CALLING” on the screen.

  My heart instantly accelerated.

  It was him. I was sure of it.

  I quickly pressed answer on the screen and brought the phone to my ear.

  “Hello,” I said, holding
my breath.

  “Hi Claire, it’s me.”

  I spun around the room excitedly, nearly tripping over my feet.

  He did it! He called!

  “Hi,” I timidly said after I decided that not moving was safer for me right now.

  “Hi,” he repeated with amusement. “How are you?”

  “Good.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Good, yeah. And you?”

  “Good.”

  “Good.”

  He chuckled. “So we’re both very good, then.”

  I chewed my lower lip. Now we are. “Yeah.”

  “I’m sorry for calling so late –”

  “That’s alright,” I interrupted. “I don’t go to bed until late.”

  “Yes, well, I’ve just finished up some work and I’m finally free.”

  Just finished up work? At midnight on a Wednesday?

  “Is work what kept you away?” I found myself asking, feeling that excitement ebb away a little when I remembered why I’d been upset.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s been four days and no word from you.”

  “Did you expect me to reach out sooner?”

  I shrugged even though he couldn’t see it. “I would have thought, you know, that you’d strike while the wood is hot.”

  “Iron.”

  “What?”

  He chuckled again. “Strike while the iron is hot, is the correct saying.”

  “Right.” I smacked my forehead. Fucking idiot, Claire. “Well, you get what I mean.”

  “Yes, I think I do.” He exhaled heavily. “I wanted to give you some space.”

  “But giving me space for that long after what we did, you didn’t worry I’d lose interest?”

  “Lose interest?” He paused. “Have you?”

  “Well, no, but…”

  “But what?”

  I thought about it for a moment. Why was I pissed off again? Because he took four days to call me? Shit, that seemed bunny boiler kind of crazy, right? Oh, shit. Maybe I shouldn’t have acted like a drama queen and jumped to conclusions. He kept to his promise and contacted me, after all.

  “So why have you called?” I asked, hoping he’d abandon the topic. I didn’t want to tell him I’d been going crazy, or debating whether to draw devil horns on his head just seconds before he called. That shit was padded-room type of psycho.