She peeks her head into the door. “Did you verbally assault him? Is he scared straight?” She laughs. I smirk and hang my head. She sits next to me on the bed. “I had some of your whiskey.”
Groaning, I look at her. “Don’t puke everywhere, okay? That’s way worse than beer shits.”
Harper laughs, her pretty face lighting up. “We have a lot in common,” she explains after a long, silent pause. “Marcus and I work out because we have many of the same goals, the same friends, the same interests.”
And he’s there. With you, I think.
She sets her hand on my leg. Glancing her way, she’s looking at me, eyes full of every damn thing I try to forget. I angle my body to face her. Harper blows a huge, pink, sweet smelling bubble directly in my face. Her mom really did fill that bag with treats.
Her eyes slant in a smile around the round balloon. She pops the bubble and slides the gum back in her mouth with a few big smacks. “He’ll never be you,” she says, her voice low. Leaning into my embrace, Harper lays her forehead against my chest.
All I can smell is the gum. All I can feel are her lips.
Spin the Bottle
Ben
The empty, green box of Ecto Cooler is sitting by her knee, the orange straw brushing her bare leg. “I practiced on my hand. I feel like this should be easy,” she says, her eyes wide and fixed on mine. Licking her lips, she tilts her head to study my lips, like I’m some science experiment.
I nod. “You can’t be that bad at it. You didn’t have to practice on my account.”
“If we’re ever going to one of Jenny’s parties we need to know how to kiss. They play seven minutes in heaven and spin the bottle, Benny. We need all the practice we can get. My hand is always around. You’re not.”
Imagining my first real kiss always involved Harper, but in my dreams it wasn’t as unromantic as this. We’re sixteen and instead of making out in the back of a movie theater like most kids our age, we’re in the old wooden treehouse my dad built us when we were seven. “If you want to make out with me for practice I’ll be around more,” I say, waggling my eyebrows, grinning.
“Gross. Don’t make this anymore weird than it has to be. I want to be skilled. Maybe then the boys in our class will want me.” A pang of envy slices through my chest and the smile fades from my face. “I mean, that’s what they want, right? Good kissers?” She’s misreading my facial cues. Thank God.
She has full lips and perfect skin. That’s not what they want, though. Harper has an ass and body on her that should be illegal. I know that’s how I’ve tagged her because she’s my best friend. All of the guys want her. Every single one. I’m weak, ole’ Benny, so it’s just a matter of time before some jock comes and takes her out of my treehouse and life. I won’t be able to do anything to stop it, but I can make sure I have her first kiss. “Right. That’s what they want.” And sex.
She gets up on her knees and takes the empty juice box in her hand and places it between us. “Spin it. We’ll practice like it’s going to be the real thing.” Her cheeks are red now. When I comment on her flustered appearance, she swats me on the shoulder and tells me to grow up. “Spin Slimer, Benny. This needs to be somewhat legitimate so it’s not two desperate teens practicing kissing for a cool kid’s party.”
Swallowing, I scoot closer to the box. “What if it’s not just practice for me? I’m desperate,” I reply, looking at her.
Harper raises one brow.
“I’m desperate to kiss you,” I say, my voice cracking.
She chews her bubble gum a few times and her eyebrows pull together. Harper isn’t confused, she’s trying to figure out the meaning behind my words. She’s self-conscious, so I know where she’s going to jump first. I hold out my hand, the first move. “Because I want to kiss you. Not because I want practice for any other girl.”
Her jaw stops working. “Benny. I’ll kiss you no matter what. You don’t have to pretend.” She puts her hand in mine and it’s electric—a jolt of testosterone and pride and every other thing she makes me feel. Alive.
I walk toward her on my knees and I think my heart might explode out of my chest. I never see her this close up and it’s a crying shame. The way her soft eyelashes flutter when she looks away seems like a movement from a dream dimension. I grab her chin when she’s close enough and tilt her chin to look up at me. Shaking my head, I say, “This isn’t me pretending.”
My black glasses slip down my nose. Harper grins. Familiar territory. With soft hands she reaches up and takes my glasses off, folds them, and sets them on the windowsill. “You’re not like…you right now,” she says. That’s exactly what I want her to feel. I want to be the man she wants, not the boy she’s known. “It’s hot.”
“Do you want to kiss me?” I ask. It’s mostly out of curiosity, because I can’t get a read of her. Is she playing?
Licking her lips, she sticks her tongue through her bubble gum and blows a bubble, her eyes slanted in thought as she studies my face. The bubble gets so huge I know I could pop it and it would cover her face. I don’t, though. I wait for her to bite the bubble and recapture the gum in her mouth. Harper takes the gum out and sets it on the side of the juice box and takes the final step on her knee to put us chest to chest.
Her breaths come faster now and I want to say something to calm her. To let her know I’m just as nervous and how much this means to me, but words don’t come. Blood does. Rushing to my dick faster than when I look at my dad’s tittie mags he keeps in the bottom of his bathroom drawer. Harper puts her hands around my neck and my hands automatically lock around the bottom of her back, one hand creeping down to her ass.
“I want to kiss you,” she says. Her voice isn’t confident. It almost comes out as a question. “I’ve always wanted to kiss you,” she finishes.
Her hands slide up the back of my head and a bolt of pleasure washes over my whole body. Tingles and my hard-on pounds and she’s in my arms and I can feel the heat of her skin through the thin white shirt. Her eyes are locked on mine and it feels surreal, like we’re adults, like we’re finally doing something because we want to, not because it’s what we should do, or what’s expected of us. She breathes out and I smell Bubble-Yum, and my mouth waters.
Because I’m trying to be the man and not the boy, I run my hands up her sides, and the simple movement elicits a sigh from her, and my head swims a little. Can you black out from anticipation? From all the blood traveling to my cock instead of my brain? Is that possible? I should know something like this.
“Benny,” she moans out, her eyes closed and her forehead pressed against mine.
“It’s me,” I reply, returning my hands to her lower back.
I tilt my head to the side the tiniest of degrees and press my lips against hers. She responds right away, opening slightly. I follow her lead and move my lips in sync with hers. She clutches my neck tighter and I pull her against me closer. My mind clears. It’s amazing. At any given moment, my brain is filled with a thousand video clips of worries, concerns, or just noise. My concerns about ruining our friendship by mixing kisses, disappear. Softly, I bring my hands up to cradle her face and use my thumb to pry her mouth open a little wider.
I want everything. All of her. I slide my tongue out tentatively and she jumps a little, but after a second she meets me with her tongue and it’s so soft, and so wet, and it tastes like Harper and bubble gum and I forget to breathe. I forget everything except what’s underneath my hands.
The kiss turns a little more frantic as we both gain confidence. Her hands leave my neck and travel down to the bottom of my tee. Harper runs her fingertips under my shirt, against my skin while keeping her lips against mine. In a quick blast of panic, I pull away, my eyes still closed, and my chest heaving.
“My God,” I say, swallowing, holding Harper by her shoulders. When I let my eyes open, I notice her eyes are heavy, her pink mouth open and swollen. She’s staring at me with a hungry look in her eye. Everything about this moment is perfect.
We’re not kids anymore. The switch flipped. All generators are running on high. Words aren’t needed. We can read each other without even trying.
She leans in and kisses me again. This time we know what we’re doing a little more than last time and when she breaks away to catch her breath, I feel more than everything.
I pull her against my body and my raging hard-on. “I love you, Benny,” she whispers, hugging my neck like a spider monkey.
“I love you, Harper Jean.”
She pulls away, grinning like a maniac. We’re such rebels. “I also love those Bubble-Yum lips,” I say, through a wide smile. “Give me some more of those?”
She does.
Chapter Five
Harper
I stretch my arms over my head and my hands run into the headboard. Not the familiar wicker headboard from my apartment or the cool steel of Marcus’. My eyes pop open and I roll over and slap Ben in the face. “Sorry. Sorry!” I whisper shout into the dark bedroom. “Ben! What are you doing in here?”
“It’s my bed. What are you doing in here? That’s the question,” Ben says, voice hoarse and drowsy—utterly mouthwatering. Let’s be honest, here. Everything about him does things to my body that I work hard to deny. It’s harder when he’s next to me. In bed. When I’m wearing…wait. What am I wearing? A crop top and a pair of lacy white underwear. Perfect. I’m barely awake and I already feel like the whore of Babylon.
One of his arms juts out and he pulls me against his body. “I left all my clothes on. I know your prude sensibilities, but the sofa wasn’t long enough to hold me.”
There’s no use struggling against his snuggle, so I go willingly, letting his cozy body heat envelop mine. He smells like Ben. A hint of his signature scent mixed with the indiscernible smell that is him—home.
“This is so inappropriate. I’m going to hell,” I groan, trying to think of the last time I called Marcus. I can’t be sure, but I’m almost positive I win the award for world’s worst girlfriend. Guilt lies heavily on my chest as the whole scenario of my time here is realized.
Ben cuddles me closer, his lips at my ear. “Do you think I’d do anything untoward while you were blitz faced drunk? Come on. You know I like my ladies willing participants.”
I cringe. “You’re such a dog, Ben. I have a boyfriend.” His body stiffens. Not his penis. No, that’s been hard since the moment he woke up. “One who would cast me to the dogs if he saw me right now. Best friend or not, a hard dick this close to my ass has to be a deal breaker for most people.”
He laughs. “Fine. Fine.” He slides away, and I roll to face him. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, Harper. I thought we were closer than that.” Sighing, I contemplate every single word I’m about to say and the many ways in which they can be misinterpreted.
“It got weird. Too much time had passed; I fibbed once and it kind of snowballed.” My purse is sitting on the nightstand and my eyes widen as I make a grab for it and pull out my birth control pills. I swallow the one meant for last night without water and realize how dry my mouth is. It’s a desert, California in the middle of drought, death. “I need water,” I croak.
Ben watches the whole thing, and pain flickers across his face. I have to physically remove myself from him before I comfort him. That would be inappropriate. “You’re sleeping with him?” His eyes crinkle as he asks. It’s almost humorous, because how in the world could I not be sleeping with my boyfriend? Ben will always see me as ten years younger than I actually am.
Sighing, I run a hand across my forehead. This isn’t a conversation I’d have with anyone, let alone Ben. Though, maybe he can help me figure out if Marcus is jealous. Best friends do that a lot, right? “I live with him. Sex is sort of a given. I’m twenty-one, not fifteen. Sometimes I think you forget that I grew up the same time you did, with you.”
Ben folds his arms behind his head and he looks so damn hot I have to stand and turn away from the bed. The first time I slept with Marcus I was completely uncomfortable. I didn’t really want to do it, but he was persuasive and I knew it was time to let my old dreams die hard. “I picture you at school, at class, and going to your clubs and study groups. I never thought you’d live with a dude. Fuck another dude.”
“Was I supposed to wait for you?” I ask, swallowing down broken dreams. “You know what? Never mind. Want breakfast?” I ask, desperate to change the subject. Jealous Ben isn’t fun. He never has been. Turning, I hit him with my biggest smile. I’ve never quite been sure where his jealousy stems from. He doesn’t want me romantically, I don’t think. It’s more of a claim thing. He claimed me as his, and because he’s male and they bang on their chests, jealousy is akin to breathing.
We’re both aware he doesn’t answer my question, but unlike him, I’m not going to force him to say anything. That answer isn’t good for either of us. “Yeah. Let’s go eat. I need to erase the images flashing through my brain.” Ben runs both hands through his hair, back and forth several times.
I know how to stop the flood of images, but I can’t fix it for him. Not right now, not at this stage in our lives. His cell phone rings, he mumbles something under his breath, and walks into the bathroom. Digging through my suitcase, I find a pair of sleep shorts and pull them on. It takes longer than it should because I’m lost in my thoughts of Ben and me in bed, in my underwear, and all it implies. All I wish it meant. A flash of a future so muddied by life lights my senses and then promptly turns to dust.
He clears his throat. “We didn’t do anything, Harper,” Ben hisses from the bathroom doorway, body propped against the frame, startling me from my daydream.
Glancing over my shoulder, I catch sight of him. He’s shirtless now, because that’s his natural state. I have to remind myself he’s always walked around shirtless after he transformed into a perfect male specimen. He truly did wear a shirt to bed because of my prude sensibilities. I wish I wasn’t that kind of girl. The meek, do what you’re told, type. Old habits die hard, and I should praise Ben for realizing as much as things change about me, that one facet never will.
“You wouldn’t tell me if we did. Don’t lie. You perv.” I knock him off balance on my way out of the room and into the kitchen. I duck out of his grasp as he tries to catch me around the waist. My cracked cell phone sits on the counter, a glaring reminder of the person inside of it.
“If you get everything out for me, I’ll make breakfast. I need to make a quick phone call.” It’s so late in the morning that it’s already an acceptable time to call the East Coast. Marcus will be up, sipping his morning tea and watching the news, a text book sitting next to him.
“Make it fast. We have big plans today,” Ben growls, laughing. Our uncomfortable exchange is already buried. In record time, no less. We’re able to hide almost anything inside the confines of our friendship. It wasn’t until recently that I realized that’s not always a good thing. He’s still thinking about me and Marcus together, and I’m still thinking about how I wish it were him.
Savagery.
I hit speed dial number two and Marcus answers on the second ring. “There you are. Are you okay? You had me worried last night.” His words are mashed together in one long wind. To his credit, he does sound worried. His text messages were so rude and unlike him that I was afraid to call him at first.
I close my eyes. All this guilt. I didn’t do anything to feel guilty about and yet I feel it all the same. My heart is a traitor. “I’m so sorry, Marcus. We did have so much fun, though. My screen is cracked. I’ll take it in to get fixed today, so I may be unreachable for a while.” I listen to him breathing for a moment or two, then continue, “What are you up to today?”
“That’s all?” he asks after a few more silent seconds. For me, those seconds are loud and unbearable. What will he ask next? Can he see his imprint on my soul? Does he have that unquantifiable sense I don’t? I’m always a step behind, socially.
“Yeah. The concert was awesome. Then we came home and went to sleep.”
“Hmm,” Marcus replies. He doesn’t believe me. I want to scream out all of the truths. Ben is watching me over the rim of his drink. When I catch him looking, he looks away and pretends to be busy.
I yank on the hem of my short shorts self-consciously.
“I miss you, Harper. I know how much you like that band. I’m glad you got to see them while you were there. I, uh, wish I were the one who took you.” Jealousy. It seeps in enough even a dull wit like me can recognize it through a phone call.
“Maybe we can go together when they’re on the East Coast,” I offer. “I’d see them a million times. You spoke with Ben last night?” I edge, while he seems to be engulfed with missing me. Ben is banging a frying pan around on the stove. I cover the ear not holding a cell phone and glare in his direction.
“I did. He seems like a…nice guy.”
I breathe out a sigh of a relief. I didn’t hear what was said last night, mostly because I was drunk and in a candy haze, but Ben was upset after the conversation, so I couldn’t be sure.
“I won’t pretend to know your relationship with him because it seems complicated. I didn’t know that a male-female relationship could ever function platonically into adulthood, but I’m going to trust you, Harper. I’m an intelligent man. I know he’s in your life to stay. I hope I am, too.”
I smile. This is the charismatic man I fell in love with. “Of course you are. How was your last exam?” I ask. Flopping down onto the couch, I listen to his story about the exam and how he had to guess on the last question. I reassure him by giving a statistic on what his chances are of selecting the right answer. He laughs a little and as I lie back on the arm of the couch I find myself smiling at the ceiling.
I tell him about seeing my parents and although I wait for it, he doesn’t ask about my sleeping arrangement at Ben’s. I end the call with a good feeling about Marcus—all hesitation erased. I walk into the kitchen warily. “Over medium with toast?” I ask.
Life Plus One Page 5