Prude

by Hilaria Alexander

  When we leave the restaurant, Iris takes my arm and walks by my side, with Ben following behind us.

  “You two make a good couple. I never see him with anyone, and he looks happier and less tormented than he’s ever been,” she says quietly.

  Tormented? Ben has always seemed anything but tormented to me. He’s always struck me as the eternal optimist, never giving me the impression of a person being tormented by something.

  I’m still going over her words in my head when she adds, “I’m glad he found you,” pulling my arm closer to her.

  “Thank you,” I say in a low voice, still utterly confused. “He makes me very happy. He’s the best, really,” I say, turning behind me and winking at him.

  “Okay, enough chitchatting you two. Mom, you had enough to drink. God knows what you’re telling Prudence. You’ll scare her away,” he says, trying to separate us, but I stop him.

  “As if, Mr. Hallstrom. As if.” I tell him, turning around to smile at him.

  I’m already yawning by the time we make it to the bonfire. I had completely forgotten about it.

  “We won’t stay long, I promise. Then we’ll go back to the cottage,” he says, squeezing my hand.

  The evening went well, all things considered. Iris is a lovely lady. She gave me a big hug before we left and made me promise I would come visit her soon.

  I take my shoes off as we make our way onto the beach. There is a large group of people around a pretty impressive bonfire. Music is coming from the speakers in someone’s Jeep. Some people are dancing, and others are just sitting by the fire.

  Chris spots us almost immediately and waves for us to come over to the log he’s sitting on. We say hello to everybody as we head his way. There is a somewhat equal percentage of guys and girls, and most of them look like they belong in a Roxy ad. I see people looking at Ben, at me, and at our joined hands. By the way they look at us, you’d think they never saw him with a girl.

  We start chatting it up with Chris, then he and Ben start talking surf and mutual friends, and I try to keep up with the conversation. Chris sees we don’t have any drinks and realizes most of the coolers are empty when we go to look for some. We head for the kitchen to find some beers, and Ben bumps into some guy he knows. The dude pulls him into a bear hug and starts chatting up a storm.

  Chris says, “Prudence, my girl, would you come with me to get some refreshments for all these fine people here this evening?”

  My girl? This guy is really just too much. He is so different from Ben. Chris is definitely like a big kid. He is cute and probably just trying to be nice, but he sounds like he’s trying too hard.

  I play along, though, and follow Chris into the house.

  “I’ll be right back,” I mouth to Ben.

  After five minutes with Chris, I figure out he just loves to gossip. I feel like I’m being interrogated, in the nicest way possible. We have covered everything important: how long Ben and I have been dating, how long we have known each other, what I do, etc.

  When I ask him why he is so curious about us, he just says, shrugging, “Ben has never had a girlfriend before, at least as far as I know. I always thought he wasn’t the type to be tied down.”

  “Tied down? I’m not tying him down. Unless it’s to a bed!” I muse.

  “Oooooooh, feisty, I like that!” he says, pointing at me.

  I try to help him get a cooler full of drinks out, but he carries it all by himself. He didn’t need my help after all. Something tells me I have been played.

  When we go back out, Ben is sitting down with the same guy he was talking to before, and a couple of girls are sitting on the other side. I don’t really have a way to sit next to him unless I decide to tell people to move, so I sit down with Chris.

  He hands me a beer, introduces me to some of the other people as “Ben’s girl,” and keeps talking to me about surf, life, and rap music. I try, I really try, to listen to what he is saying. The guy is really cute and funny at times, but he is just too much too handle.

  A certain handsome surfer across the bonfire has also distracted me. Ben keeps looking at me though the flames and I tip my chin in his direction and he reciprocates, all the while Chris is still talking my ear off. I try to be polite and listen, but Ben keeps distracting me.

  A small smile spreads across his face and I can see his eyes growing darker, betraying a certain hunger. He is so beautiful. I bite my lip, looking at him. I can’t wait to be alone with him again. It’s not that I don’t want to socialize or keep listening to Chris’ semi-philosophical thoughts about life, but it’s just that I am not ready to come out of our little bubble.

  Right now, I don’t care about anyone else but him. Do I sound pathetic? Probably, but I don’t care. However, it looks like I’m not the only pathetic one, because my beautiful boyfriend excuses himself from his friends and comes to sit next to me. On my other side, Chris is still talking about something.

  “Hi,” he says, smiling.

  “Hi,” I reply, looking at him like I’m seeing him for the first time.

  “Man, you are so whipped! Can’t stay away from her for a minute, huh?” Chris bursts in.

  We never break eye contact while he responds to his friend, still looking at me, “Whipped? I guess so. Frankly, I don’t give a damn.”

  I can’t even hear what Chris is saying back to Ben because I suddenly feel my skin start burning and my ears tune out everything else. There’s only him. I exhale, loudly, and his eyes zero in on my lips. The way that he is looking at me sends me into a frenzy. I can’t think about anything else but being alone with him.

  He grabs my hand and says, “We’re going to head out, Chris. See you around.”

  I turn around and wave goodbye to a stunned Chris, who breaks into a smile and raises his beer in cheers to me. We meet a few more people on the way out, but he just says bye to a couple of friends and takes us back to the car.

  He unlocks it and leads me to the passenger side door, but before I can open it, he pins me against it and starts kissing me, covering me with his body. His tongue swiftly enters my mouth and moves with mine. My hands fly up to his shoulders and his start traveling down my legs, pulling up my dress. He lifts my leg and pulls it around his hip.

  “You know,” he says in between kisses, “we never got to do it in the car like you wanted.” I feel my heart beating faster, excited at the prospect.

  “Let’s do it,” I say, challenging him. “I trust you to find a good spot and not get us arrested.”

  He opens the car door and smiles wickedly at me.

  Needless to say, on Sunday evening I’m sad to get back to reality. I had the best time and I didn’t want it to end. I look over at the man who stole my heart, sitting next to me in the car, and I just want to shake my head in disbelief.

  “Maybe I should reconsider my priorities. Why live in the city? I could have everything I want out there. Maybe if this book does well, I could get myself a tiny, tiny place, and just keep writing.”

  “True,” he says. “But then I would never see you.”

  “Hmm, are you telling me you don’t secretly want to just leave everything and open some surf shop?”

  He laughs.

  “No, not really. I mean, in an ideal world, yes. But we both know that’s not a really profitable venture. And the truth is, I like my job. I like being part of the process and being able to help authors fulfill their dreams, all the while earning a paycheck,” he says, giving me a small smile.

  I’m a little startled by his response. I know I’m just fantasizing, but I thought he would just play along instead of giving me his very realistic point of view. He seems so laid back, most of the time, that when he talks about profit, venture, and money, it seems like I’m talking to a completely different person. I mean, I know he is a businessman, but I guess I tend to forget it. I do like that he has a practical side. Maybe he got that from his mom.

  “Your mother is lovely,” I say, reaching for his hand.


  He smiles. “Yeah, she is. She loved meeting you too. She’s already said she wants to see you next time she comes to the City. She gets a little carried away when she drinks though . . . don’t believe everything that comes out of her mouth.”

  “Okay,” I say, shrugging.

  “I have a couple of busy weeks coming up. I’m still going to come around, as much as I can,” he says, glancing at me and grabbing my leg, “but I might not always be able to stay the night. I need to tie up some loose ends and get ready for this London trip.”

  I don’t mention the fact that he hasn’t found a new publisher for me, or that there hasn’t even been a meeting set up with a prospective one.

  “And of course,” he adds, “I have a couple of meetings with publishers that are interested in signing you.”

  I ask him which ones they are, and he replies, although he is a bit hesitant about it.

  “You had an offer from one, but I didn’t think you’d want to consider it.”

  What the fuck? Shouldn’t he run it by me first and let me decide? He wouldn’t do something this stupid if it wasn’t really justified, would he? Hold on. Why wouldn’t I want to work with this publisher?

  “It was Icarus, wasn’t it?” I ask him.

  “Yes, I spoke with someone from the company, not Cora directly. But I guess she got them thinking you might be interested in signing with them.”

  “I don’t even know what to say. I don’t even know how this person who acted like my friend all these years turned out to be such a terrible, conniving bitch. I guess I’m just that naïve.”

  “Well, you trusted her. You have known her for a while, and up until some point, she was a good editor and a good friend to you. She did help you get your foot in the door, but that doesn’t justify the shit she’s been doing lately. Anyway, the money that came with the offer was really good too, but I knew it was pointless to even mention it.”

  “Good thinking.”

  Chapter 20

  BEN WASN’T kidding about not being able to come around much. He texts and calls, we even Face Time a couple of times, but I don’t see him again until Thursday. I try not to be the clingy girlfriend, but I have to admit, it’s hard. I have gotten used to seeing him every day.

  In the meanwhile, I try to focus on revising my manuscript and being a little more active on social media. I have been online to talk about my other books, but with all that’s been happening and also not happening, I haven’t let my readers know much of anything since the signing with Rebecca and Anya.

  I update my blog and tell them my next book will not be a young adult novel. I decide to mention that I parted ways with my editor and I’m working on a new project, plus I am looking for a new publisher. Maybe putting it out there will help me land a contract sooner rather than later. I do get a lot of positive feedback from my readers, so that puts me in a good mood.

  When Ben finally lands on my doorstep, I open the door before he even knocks.

  “About time! Another day and I was going to organize a search party!”

  He smiles and hugs me tight to him, sniffing me. He looks tired. In fact, he looks beat. I have never seen him like that.

  “Hey!” I say, taking his face in my hands and looking into his eyes. “Are you okay?”

  “It’s been a long week, babe. I’m glad to see your face, though,” he says as a smirk appears on his. He kisses me softly and I melt into his lips.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  He shakes his head no. “God, I missed you,” he says, before landing another soft, long kiss on my lips.

  “I missed you too.”

  We go out to dinner and just try to catch up. I keep thinking he might mention something about those meetings he said he had this week, but he never does. I try to be patient and just conclude that he will mention it at some point during the evening. But he never does.

  When we walk back to my apartment, he tells me, vaguely, about a few changes going on at the agency he works for. He still hasn't said anything about my book, and I’m getting a little pissed. Has he forgotten he is my agent too? He was my agent before even being my boyfriend. I keep getting madder and madder. I try to bring up the subject. I tell him I have been blogging about my new book and I let him know I even said on the blog I’m looking for a new publisher.

  Nothing. He still doesn't say a word about those meetings. I’m guessing they didn't go well, but I ask him anyway. When he hesitates, probably trying to sweeten the pill for me, I snap at him.

  “Please stop,” I say, curtly.

  “Stop what?” he asks, acting so innocent. That pisses me off even more.

  “Stop trying to avoid the subject. Just go ahead and tell me the truth!” I yell at him.

  “What do you think I’m trying to do here? I’m just trying to work in your best interest. One of the publishers was a very small company and they wouldn’t have been able to give you the right support and promotion for the book and the CD. The other company I met with wasn’t interested.”

  “Couldn’t you just go ahead and tell me that, without me having to pry the words out of your mouth? You should just be honest with me, is that too much to ask?”

  “I was going to tell you the truth, I was just trying not to hurt your feelings,” he says defensively.

  “I don’t need you to worry about my feelings. You were my agent before even becoming my boyfriend! This is exactly what I didn’t want to get tangled up in! If you want this to work out between us, you have to be upfront with me. You said you would be!”

  We are still arguing when we reach my building. I walk as fast as I can, trying to get away from him, but he keeps up with me. I want to yell something else at him, but the couple from 3B is coming out of the elevator as we enter the foyer, so I just keep my mouth shut. I smile and say hello to the two of them, while Ben gives them a nod.

  He follows me in the elevator and we look at each, both of us still pissed. My chest is heaving from breathing heavily, and I’m still waiting for an apology.

  Anytime now would be good.

  Yet he doesn’t say anything and I don’t want to back down. I unlock the door and leave it open behind me.

  I turn around and he is just standing on my doorstep. I look at him, still mad, expecting the apology that doesn’t come. Stubborn man.

  “Are you going to come in or not?” I ask him, defiant.

  He puts his hands on each side of the doorframe and just stares at me, his eyes icy blue.

  “Do you want me to come in or not?” he asks me a little too politely, which makes my blood boil even more.

  “If I say you can’t come in, will you leave?”

  “If that’s what you want, I will,” he says, giving me a look that tells me he’ll do just that.

  I try not to lose my nerve. I know I’m overreacting, but he is really pissing me off.

  “What do you want to do?” I ask him, my lip quivering. Keep your shit together, Prudence. No tears. You started this, remember?

  “I want to stop fighting with you,” he says, his eyes suddenly softer.

  “I’m not done talking about this,” I say, gripping the desk behind me.

  He comes in and closes the door.

  “Fine, we’ll talk, but we don’t need to argue.”

  “Okay,” I say, my voice barely audible.

  “Come here,” he says, slightly opening his arms as if to embrace me, but instead of waiting for me to come to him, he takes a few steps towards me.

  I meet him halfway and hug him, hiding my face in his chest. I want to burst into tears. Mainly because I feel ridiculous, but also because I’m still mad at him and at the same time, I feel stupid about it. He owes me the truth, though.

  I disentangle myself from his hug.

  “You cannot do this,” I say, putting my hands on each side of my forehead, trying to calm myself and find the right words to say.

  “You need to be honest with me,” I add. He doesn't say anything, just looks
into my eyes and grabs my hands.

  “The thing is, this is the first time in my life I have had to go through this whole process. I have been lucky enough that I never had to deal with rejection letters or things like that. If I weren’t your girlfriend, if I was just your client, you would have probably sent me an email. You might have called me to let me know about those meetings, right?”

  He nods. “I would have probably called you.”

  “Then why didn't you?” I ask calmly.

  “I didn't want to stress you out for no reason,” he says, shrugging.

  “I’m your girlfriend, but I’m your client too! I know you know it's not right, and you should have called me. You didn't want to stress me out? Well, guess what, you did anyway! All week I have been second-guessing myself and wondering if I was going to hear from you or not! We talked every day, but you never mentioned anything. You can't do that!” I say, raising my voice again.

  “Okay, okay, you're right! I should have let you know. That was stupid of me. I know this is your book, but I care about it almost as much as you do, and I want to find the right company to publish it, promote it, and bring it to its full potential!”

  “And I appreciate that,” I say, taking a few steps away from him. “But if you think this is hard to balance, I mean our work relationship and our personal one . . . maybe we have to break one of them off,” I tell him hesitantly, looking away.

  “Please don't say you want to break up with me,” he says, sighing.

  Is that what he thinks I want? That's not what I meant at all. I would be more inclined to part ways professionally, if I had to choose. The look in his eyes is wary. Thankfully, I have good news for him.

  “No. I don't want to break up with you.” Ever, I would like to add. Break up with him? I just don't think I could. Just the thought of it makes my chest tighten and I feel like I can't breathe. I smile at him and a grin spreads on his face.