Prude

by Hilaria Alexander

  After he leaves, I do have the temptation to do some investigating around his apartment. For what, I’m not really sure. Clues? I don’t think I’m going to find a red room of pain. So what do I think I’m going to find? What kind of information could I come across anyway?

  What more could he have in this apartment than the picture he has with Mr. Hunter? Besides, snooping around isn’t really my thing. I will not be that girlfriend. I toss and turn for a couple of hours, not able to sleep. I put my clothes on, but I’m a little cold in just my sundress. I look around and steal his shirt from yesterday, wearing it over my dress. The shirt smells like him too. I sniff it a couple of times. Damn, it smells good. I’m most definitely taking it.

  I snap a picture and send it to him, with the text:

  Me: I stole your shirt! Come and get it! ;)

  Ben: Tonight! You evil wench! ;)

  I walk out of the building and I know I’m not going to be able to accomplish anything this morning. I pull out my phone and call Andrew for a last-minute session.

  “Andrew?”

  “Yes, pumpkin?”

  “I need to ask you a question.”

  “If this is a way to get out of doing your reps, forget about it.”

  I shake my head no. He’s holding my knees down and I’m doing some crunches. I keep going. I think he sees the look of worry clouding my face, because he is suddenly sweeter.

  “Prudence, what's the question?”

  He releases my legs and lets me catch a breath.

  I look at his face and say, “I don't even know how to ask this.”

  “Oh, no, honey. No. Do not ask me to join you in a threesome with your handsome boyfriend. That's not how it works. Let me explain it to you—”

  “What? No! Ew! That's not what I wanted to ask you!” I say, outraged, my cheeks still red from being out of breath.

  Breathe, Prudence, breathe.

  “Okay, good. I feel tons better now,” he says, pressing a hand on his chest. “Sweetheart, if you want to know my opinion, it’s a little too early for such a treat,” he says, making a face. “However, if your naughty boyfriend is already asking for that – what you do is find a person that is number one, not a friend of either of you, and number two, a person that has no ties whatsoever with the two of you. An outsider, a stranger. Practically speaking, someone you will not see again afterwards and that will not compromise you two as a couple. Got it?” he says, standing up straight, looking proud of himself.

  “That's not what I wanted to ask,” I say, whispering. “And could you lower your voice? I am pretty sure even Emily at the front desk heard you.”

  “Have you seen the clientele in here? Nobody cares, Prudence! I’m sure half of these people do way worse things in one weekend than you have in your entire life!”

  “Enough! Stop it. I wanted to ask something else. Please sit down,” I say, pulling on his leg.

  He sits on the floor next to me and I say, fiddling with my ponytail, “Andrew, I need . . . an opinion. Do you think Ben could be bisexual?”

  He looks at me skeptically. “Are you asking me to put my gaydar to good use?”

  “Something like that,” I say, shrugging. “I’ve only been around him for a minute, but I didn't get any vibe. What are you so worried about? Did you see anything on his phone? Text messages with a guy? Naked selfies of some other dude? Someone emailed you photos of him with a guy?”

  “Ew! No! Do people do that?”

  He shrugs.

  “Sometimes. Sometimes people that are bisexual and are not comfortable with their sexuality tend to have an official relationship, usually a heterosexual one, and the side piece, the gay relationship. More often than not, the other guy is fed up of being strung around. So, he decides to send compromising photos in order to destroy his lover's relationship. So, what you got?”

  “I got nothing.”

  “Well, then. What are you worrying about?” he asks.

  “I told you before I heard a lot of rumors about him. He's never had a serious girlfriend that I remember. And this morning he got a call super early in the morning from Mr. Hunter, who happens to be the owner of Biblio, the publishing company I was signed with. But he is an older man . . . it doesn’t add up . . .”

  “How old are we talking about?”

  “Grandpa old.”

  “Ew! And you think they are lovers?”

  “That's what I heard people say before. The man is quite the loner, but he has a very friendly relationship with Ben.”

  “Well, could it not be they were just going to meet for work in the morning and the old man had to cancel or reschedule?”

  “Um, I don’t know. He didn’t call him back in front of me, he just left. Didn’t even listen to the voicemail.”

  “I think you are just overreacting. For once in your life, you have this Adonis at your feet and you can’t believe your luck. You are trying to sabotage yourself.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” I say, shrugging.

  “Trust me on this.”

  I debate all day if I should question him on that call or not. Andrew says I shouldn’t, but I hate keeping something like this to myself. It’s going to sit in a corner of my brain and keep bothering me. I don’t really believe the stupid rumors, but what is the deal with Ben and that man? Why are they so close? He doesn’t even work for him! I try to focus on work, and after a while, I succeed. I get so caught up in editing that I miss several texts Ben sent throughout the day.

  Later in the evening, he writes:

  Ben: Let’s start were we left off this morning. I believe you were naked, yes?

  Me: I’ll see what I can do.

  The thought of him in my arms is enough to distract me from everything else I have been stupidly obsessing about.

  Ben: Did you hear from Matt at all?

  Me: No, and I’m not going to think about it. He has to be the one to reach out to us.

  Ben: Good girl.

  Chapter 16

  AN HOUR LATER, I greet him semi-naked. He shows up with Chinese takeout, and we continue were we left off that morning. We eat and then hang out all night in my bed, taking a break only for a shower. When I can’t hold it in anymore, I decide to casually ask him about this morning.

  “How come you had to leave so early this morning?” I say, placing a kiss on his shoulder. He’s slightly hesitant at first, but he still looks straight into my eyes, caressing my skin.

  “I had an early meeting with Mr. Hunter.”

  “What was it about?” I ask curiously.

  “He wants to set up some scholarships through the company. He asked for my help. I’ve done some pro-bono work before for another company, so I know what needs to be done. We talked about it and I agreed to help him with it.”

  “If he asked for your help he must think really highly of you,” I say, running a hand through his hair.

  He shrugs.

  “I think he still feels bad I wasn’t the one hired at the end of my internship years ago. I took it pretty badly at the time.”

  “Did you?” I ask, surprised. It’s the first time I’ve heard anything about it.

  “Well, yeah, I was young and I thought for sure I would get a full-time job there.”

  “Hmm, things worked out in the end though,” I say, placing a kiss on his lips.

  “Yeah, they did,” he says, rolling on top of me.

  Ben and I soon fall into a casual routine of sleeping at each other’s places. When he is here, he doesn’t seem to want to leave, and when I am over at his apartment, he starts protesting if I say I’m going to go home. Mostly, I just say it to be polite. Usually guys want to be left alone, but I guess he’s not like the others when it comes to intimacy after sex, which is totally fine by me. As a boyfriend, he is a constant surprise and so far, as good as they come.

  One night, I come out of the bathroom after brushing my teeth and I find him reading in bed. Naked.

  Ahhh, sweet baby Jesus.

  I’v
e had plenty of chances to see him in many swoon-worthy situations, but this . . . this wins it all. The geek in me is squealing with delight and extremely aroused. Again.

  A hot, naked guy reading in my bed? Unbelievable.

  He catches me staring at him and smiles, patting the spot next to him. I climb in bed and curl up next to him.

  “What are you reading?”

  “Another manuscript from an author. I need to finish it as soon as possible. I only have a few chapters left. I’ll go in the living room if you want to sleep.”

  “No,” I say, tugging his hand. “Stay. I’ll read too.”

  I grab my Kindle and start reading, propped up against the pillows.

  “I don't think there is anything better than reading in bed, am I wrong?” He doesn’t say anything, but just smiles at me, biting his lip, like I’m missing the obvious. Of course. Duh.

  “Of course, sex comes first,” I say, realizing my misstep.

  “You are such a nerd,” he says playfully, but with a touch of sweetness in his voice. “What about . . . sleeping?” he asks casually, with a smile on his face.

  “Sure,” I say, nodding.

  He goes back to reading and I think about it, staring at the ceiling.

  “I don't know, it's almost a tie. There have been plenty of times when I chose reading over sleeping. God help us when they come up with a Kindle waterproof case.”

  “Why?” he asks, amused, brows furrowed.

  “Because then I’m going to trade bed for bathtub and spend every single night of my life soaking in the water, reading.”

  “Every single night?” he says in a mocking tone, pretending to be offended.

  “Every single night I have to spend away from you. Better?” I lift myself up and give him a peck on the lips.

  “Better. However, Prudence, sorry to break it to you, but I think they already made a waterproof case for the Kindle. I’m pretty sure I have seen them out there.”

  He chuckles and my eyes go wide.

  “For real?” I ask, and he nods. “Noooo. Where have I been?”

  So much for reading. We end up researching a case for my Kindle Fire on his phone, but we can't find one. I still have the first generation model, which doesn’t even seem possible to Ben.

  “Don't you get freebies?” he says.

  “Yes, but I end up giving them to my readers, you know. If I can make their day, maybe even their week, I'll choose that. Plus, mine still works perfectly, why should I change it?” I say, shrugging.

  He holds me tight to him and kisses me full on the lips, taking me by surprise. It’s a passionate, intense kiss.

  “Wow,” I say, dumbfounded. “What was that for?’

  “You are so damn sweet. I can’t decide if I’m more attracted to your body, your brain, your geekiness, or your heart.”

  I instinctively climb on top of him, reacting to what he just said. I look straight into his eyes for a long moment. He leans in for a kiss.

  I tease him with a small, soft kiss back and ask, “How about all of it?”

  A smug smile stretches on his face.

  God, this man will be the death of me. If words could mark your skin, right now I would have a small incision over my heart. Because those words are getting to me. Straight to me. They are making me really believe in us.

  Does he know what he does to me? Does he do that on purpose?

  I was so comfortably numb before he came around. I had almost given up even trying to date. My shyness had certainly become more evident. But ever since he became part of my life, I feel alive again. A better version of myself seems to have emerged. A version that is bolder, unafraid, and uninhibited. He makes me feel like I can speak my mind and be myself around him. I’m completely intoxicated by him. I look deeply into his luminous eyes before kissing him again.

  In the days that follow, I’m able to make some progress with revising my story, but am slowly getting restless. This would be the time when you hand over your work to the publishing company and begin to think about the exciting stuff: the title, the cover, the press, meetings with your editor . . .

  This is the first time I will do it without Cora, I think. She hurt me, and still, it’s hard to think we’re not going to be friends anymore. I know I almost always displayed submissive behavior around her, and only now, after all these years, do I seem to realize how unhealthy our friendship was.

  Ben: This weekend we are doing it right!

  I don’t know what he is hinting at, but I find it amusing when he gives me the perfect opening to mess with him.

  Me: Have we been doing it wrong this whole time?

  Ben: Zip it, smarty pants. I meant this weekend we are going to the beach, no excuses.

  Me: I have no objection, your honor.

  Ben: You better not.

  Me: Well . . . do you need me to make arrangements? Where are we staying?

  Ben: No worries, babe. I got it all planned.

  Me: I can’t wait to spend the weekend at the beach with you.

  My phone lights up again.

  Ben: I will see you tonight, Ms. Clearwater.

  Me: See you later, Mr. Hallstrom.

  Chapter 17

  WHEN FRIDAY afternoon rolls around, I’m all ready to go. Ben isn’t, so he asks me to come by his place, because he is still packing. I roll my suitcase to his building, and when he sees me come up with my luggage he says, “Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about your luggage. You should have left it there. We would have stopped to pick it up.”

  “Nonsense,” I say, entering the apartment. “We would have wasted more time doing that. It’s not a problem.”

  I kiss him briefly, still holding my trolley and bag.

  “Come on, let’s get your things together and get going. I hate waiting.”

  He doesn’t listen to me, though, and grabs me by the waist. I wrap my arms around his neck as he starts kissing me, parting my lips and teasing my tongue with his. I let my bags fall to the floor.

  He stops and it’s a good thing, because I’m out of breath. He presses his forehead against mine and looks into my eyes.

  “Hi,” he says, “I missed you.”

  A wide smile spreads across my face. I missed him too, although we just said goodbye earlier this morning.

  “I missed you too,” I say, giving him a peck on the lips. I slap his ass and say, “Come on, get ready.”

  He releases me, slowly, almost reluctantly, and then walks away.

  “I just need to grab a few more things,” he says, turning to look at me before disappearing in the bedroom. I walk in the apartment and look around. I have been here a few times, but we spend most of the time at my house, when Ben comes back from work at night. A few minutes later I find Ben in his studio doing something on the computer. As I enter the room, I see a familiar CD on his desk.

  “Live at Sin-e? Jeff Buckley? That's a great album.”

  “I know, right? I remembered I had it and I was transferring it to my cloud. I have so much older music I never listen to since I started using my phone.”

  “I used to have a copy of this CD in college, but someone borrowed it from me and never gave it back. I forgot how much I love it.”

  I look at the slightly worn CD case, and then I eye him sideways. He knows what I’m hinting at.

  “I can guarantee you that's not your copy, because I bought it. But it's yours if you want it,” he says, shrugging.

  “No, no. I was just teasing. I would feel bad taking it.”

  “Take it. I want you to have it,” he says, giving me an irresistible smile.

  “Thank you,” I say, smiling at him, then looking back at the CD, slightly embarrassed. I shouldn’t have made such a big deal about it.

  I open the box set and notice the DVD that came with it is missing.

  “Did you lose the DVD?” I ask.

  “No, I don’t think so,” he replies.

  I pull out the booklet.

  “Wait a minute. This is
my copy! Look, I used to write my initials so I could track down my shit. PC. See?”

  He looks at the CD all over, a smirk on his face. “What? How did this happen . . .? I swear to you, I remember buying this . . .” He turns to the bookshelf and starts searching between the CDs. “Here it is! I remembered my copy being not so battered . . .” I make a face at him when he turns around. “I can't even tell you how I ended up with this.”

  “All I know is that Tom Foster borrowed it from me, and never returned it. I bugged the shit out of him, but he always made some pathetic excuse to avoid returning it to me, and eventually I gave up. He was a huge jerk about the whole thing! And it was my CD!”

  “Ah! That explains it! Tom was one of my roommates during senior year. That's how it happened. I must have taken it from him by mistake. Let me see your copy.”

  He frowns like he is trying to come up with the solution to a riddle, but then his face breaks into a smile. I look at him, trying to understand what he’s thinking. When his eyes meet mine, a moment later, it hits me. The look he has on his face . . . I know that look. My heart starts beating fast, my cheeks redden. I turn around, pretending to look at his CDs. This shouldn’t make me so nervous, but it does. This man has been inside of me. I have seen him naked. He has seen me naked, made me climax, and I’ve come undone in front of him. But the words that may come out of his mouth terrify me.

  Even more ironic is that I should be an expert on words and love scenes, or at least when it comes to young love and saying “I love you” for the first time. I should have this down, right?

  Wrong.

  He comes up behind me, putting his arms around my waist, leaning his chin on my shoulder. I close my eyes and inhale him. I raise my arm behind me to touch his face. He speaks in a low, sweet voice that makes my heart melt.