He furrows his brows as his lips purse. “If you need me to make that more official than the current state, I will. This whole thing with Marcus has made me realize how important you are to me. I stare death down on a regular basis and I don’t bat an eyelash. When your life comes into question, Harper, it’s no contest.”
I take a deep breath and adjust my dress. I don’t want a tit to pop out only because it would prove him right and right now I want him to be wrong. “I just need to think on it, okay? I haven’t been single in years. I need to think. I’ve had this plan in my mind, how everything was going to be and end up, and in less than a second he changed everything I thought I knew.” The hot sting of betrayal cuts through my chest. I’m not sad about Marcus anymore. The memory of him and what he stole, gives me rage. Norah told me I needed to sort through my feelings and I snapped at her. She’s right. “This isn’t that simple.”
“Let me take you bowling tomorrow. A Ben and Harper simple date.”
Crossing my legs, I turn to glance at the side of his face. He’s so beautiful it makes my heart hurt. It’s a moment of weakness. Of taking what I want for selfish reasons. “Yes. Fine. Bowling.” Sighing, I draw his gaze.
Ben bites his bottom lip. “I’ll whip your ass like always and we can binge on dirty water beer and nachos. I bet you won’t even get food poisoning this time.”
“You make it sound so appealing,” I deadpan. The smirk rises to my face anyway. “What’s tonight then? A pre-date-date?”
“Tonight, I’m just your plus one.”
He does admirably while mingling with my coworkers and superiors. I never thought he wouldn’t. Ben is smarter than I am. This was a path he didn’t choose but could have easily excelled in. My boss is impressed with his knowledge on a current language study. I sent him the link months ago with a note to give it a read if he had time. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined he’d give it a second look, let alone read it thoroughly enough to quote passages and dissect nuances. I almost forget this isn’t his career, nothing like his chosen profession.
Ben sings my praises, he makes sure my glass of champagne is filled at all times, and he even pretends not to notice when Marcus enters the ballroom from the side door. We see him at the same time, though, so it’s obvious he’s aware. His posture changes, his stance widens, his breaths come in a furious succession as he becomes a human shield. One of his arms turns into a mom seat belt as he backs me away from a threat half a football field away.
I never filed a restraining order against Marcus. Not because it wasn’t the right thing to do, I should have on principle alone, but I know he’s not a threat to me anymore. That moment of hypocritical anger was his moment, the last memory he’ll ever have of Harper Rosehall in his world. Not only that, but his professional life would have been ruined and my life would have been made more difficult. Facts aside, he wasn’t supposed to be here tonight and that makes my whole body itch with unease.
Looping my arm through Ben’s, I guide him to the other side of the room. There’s a live jazz band playing softly, several tables with gourmet foods spread throughout the room, all under the beautiful low light of a gregarious chandelier in room center. Ben’s whole demeanor changes at the prospect of conflict.
“Time to go then?” he asks.
Coworkers try not to stare between Marcus and me. In the act of trying not to, they do—their heads bouncing back and forth between the two of us. No one but Martina knows all the details about the demise of our relationship, one that was heralded as the most epic love story of all time. The love linguistics department. Not so much. What most are aware of is it went down fast, crashing so hard that we don’t even speak anymore or want to be in the same breathing space together.
He nudges me again, his large hand encompassing my whole waist, and repeats, “Time to go?” The taut bulge of his muscles presses against me. An anti-warning because unlike Marcus, Ben would use his muscles and body to protect me at all costs.
Squeezing Ben’s hand, I say, “I really wanted to see Martina before we left. I bet she shows up shortly. We can eat more cheese,” I offer.
When he looks at me his eyes hold a fear so palpable, it makes my heart rate pick up. “It’s fine. Look at this room full of people. Don’t be scared of him.” It’s a joke. Put the men side by side and you have a laughable match. Ben could squash Marcus with a mean glare.
“I’m afraid of what I’m going to do to him,” he replies, teeth gritted.
I tsk. “A gentleman would dance with his plus one. Not get into a”—I look around the room, narrowing my eyes—“well, I can’t call it a bar brawl, per say. How about a work function fight?” I eye the band and hold up my arms to the side. “Dance with me?” This is a new territory. Me calming Ben. “Don’t even think about him. He’s afraid of me. I could have destroyed him.” I roll my eyes for good measure.
The temptation to wrap his arms around me wins out, like I hoped it would, and he pulls me into his chest in one big heave. “You should have, Harper. I’ll forget it for the moment, but we’re coming back to this topic later. You smell so good.” Distraction manipulated. One point.
He holds me closer and bends his head into my neck. Ben doesn’t spin us, we kind of sway, and I know it’s so he can keep his gaze locked on Marcus. I shiver in response to a blast of air conditioning. “He’s ruining this for me,” Ben growls, his lips barely brushing the side of my ear.
Quickly, I tilt my head away and spy Marcus and his brother, Darren, at the bar, eyes fastened on us on the dancefloor. I’m saved when Martina dances up with her husband. She has on her standard black boxy glasses, and a dark purple sheath dress. She’s tall with quirky black curls that pop out of any updo she tries to contain them with. Tonight it’s down and wild.
“You guys win.” Martina laughs. “Most beautiful couple. That dress, though, Harper. You’re really turning over a new leaf.” Little does she know.
“Oh, stop. You look beautiful. I love your hair. May I present you with the Benjamin Brahams,” I say, halting our awkward sway.
He reluctantly releases me and saves face with a false, happy front.
Martina gushes and is immediately caught up in conversation about Ben’s job. I think she’s the first person who knew exactly who he was and what he does. I blush for her. Her husband watches with mild amusement, shaking his head. He raises his brow when he catches me watching him.
“Tough luck with the other one,” he says, voice low.
I nod. “Yeah. He wasn’t supposed to be here. I’m glad I ran into Martina so we can get going.”
He looks confused for a moment or two. “He changed his RSVP when he saw you had a plus one,” he whispers.
Martina must tell him all of the gossip. Married people don’t have any secrets. I remind myself of this before I get irritated with my friend.
Turning slightly, I find Marcus staring at me. Darren has a different drink in his hand. “That’s surprising. He knows who I’d come with.”
Martina tunes into our conversation. “Yeah, a massive hunk of good looks and charm. My word. You’ve been keeping this one caged for all these years?”
Smirking, I take Ben’s arm again, trying to turn us subtly.
“Finally, someone with brains!” Ben exclaims. It seems Martina’s own charm has worked to calm Ben’s nerves. “I’ve been trying to get Harper to notice these qualities for the better part of two decades.”
I scoff. “Ben didn’t have these…attributes for the better part of two decades. Don’t let him fool you. The recent developments are just that. Recent.”
“What about my charm?” he asks, palming his chest as if I’d stabbed him in the heart. Martina and her husband laugh. “Haven’t I always had that?”
“When you weren’t breaking rules. I guess so,” I agree. “No breaking rules tonight either.” It’s a thinly veiled request and one I know he picks up on. He squeezes my waist.
“Harper. Nice to see you,” Marcus rasps from B
en’s other side. The reason I was trying to work us to stand in the opposite direction.
Martina’s eyes widen. She knows the whole story, which means so does her husband. I’m shoved behind Ben’s back before I can get a word out. SEALs give new meaning to the words reflexes like a cat.
“Don’t talk to her,” Ben hisses. “Get the fuck out of here. Right now.”
I can see Marcus swaying, a drunkenness I’ve only seen one other time—when his grandmother died—visible from my hiding spot. Laying a hand on Ben’s back, I try to remind him of where we are. He shakes his head as a response to my silent plea.
“I never want to hear her name come from your lips again. You have nerves of steel. I’ll give you that much. Which means you’re looking for trouble or, you’re a fucking idiot.”
Martina grabs my arm. “Let’s go to the bathroom.”
Ben spins on us. “She doesn’t leave my side.”
My eyes widen as I take in a side of Ben I don’t know. It’s scary. It’s also undeniably, mouthwatering hot. I have to check my psyche another time, because I’m not sure what that says about me. “Go. Get out of here,” Ben says, leaning forward to Marcus.
Darren wanders over, feet sluggish and eyes glassy.
His brother’s presence is all Marcus requires to leak asinine statements. “I have nerve? I’m the one with the nerve?” Marcus says, voice quavering. “You loved her when she was mine. You had her when she wasn’t yours.” I can see his neck work as he swallows and shakes his head. “Don’t call me a fucking idiot. I know what I want. You’re the fucking idiot for not going after what will never belong to anyone else. Maybe I do have nerves of steel, but someone needs to tell you to appreciate what you have.”
“You had to hit her to figure out how to appreciate her? That’s how it works then?” Ben’s breathing heavy and I can tell the effort it’s taking to keep from causing a full-on scene. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a man.”
Ben ushers me next to him. Marcus’ eyes dart to my chest, my body, and finally my face. “Take a look, man. Take a good, hard look. A nerves of steel look,” Ben quips.
My arms feel like spaghetti and my stomach has butterflies so wild a bout of nausea takes me over. The room is staring at us. “Hi, Darren,” I whisper. He didn’t have anything to do with Marcus’ reckless behavior and manners dictate I be a decent person.
Darren nods at me and takes another sip from his clear cup.
Grabbing my shoulders, Ben spins me to face him. “This one is for the fucking record, okay?”
His eyes are pleading, but his features are soft, a complete transformation from mere seconds before. “Okay,” I whisper, unsure what he wants me to say or do. He’s unreadable. His hot alpha kill mode has annihilated all of my Ben sensors.
“You hear that, Marcus? This is me setting the record straight for you and for anyone else who doubts what I want. Hell, what we both want.”
Ben grabs my face in his hands, his thumbs setting on the top of my bottom lip, one on each side. He smiles. An out of place smile that reminds me of the Ben from thirty minutes ago. The butterflies leave and the sappy, deep emotions I feel for this man soak my awareness. He kisses me, slanting his head to the side. My eyes close and I feel every single place where his body touches mine. The five o’clock shadow on his chin brushes my soft skin.
I grab his forearms and let him guide the kiss deeper still. I haven’t been kissed like this, or felt this much in a single melding of lips, since the last time we kissed. It’s like I’m opening a suitcase of emotions and love that’s been sitting untouched in a closet, dusty and disused. I’ve missed out on this, all this time. The thought makes me sad, and a tear slips from the corner of my eye.
Ben pulls back, eyes wide, and lips slightly parted. His hands are still on my face and he brings a finger up to brush away the salty remnants of a memory equal parts sad as amazing. I can have this now. Finally. Past relationships be damned. This is what life is about. Grinning at Ben, the rest of the room vanishes. We don’t say a word to each other. We don’t have to.
I think it’s why I wanted to go into linguistics. The silent language I’ve always had with Ben. We speak without saying a word and understand each other in a perfect harmony no one else could ever decipher. It’s ours. “Record straightened,” I whisper, mostly for my own benefit.
“It was better than I remembered,” he replies, glancing to the side and breaking eye contact for the first time since we pulled apart.
Sometime in the middle of the kiss, Darren and Marcus disappeared. Those who weren’t paying attention before are now. The room is applauding with cheers and whistles mixed in. My blush comes fast and furious, and Ben glows under the attention, waving and shaking both hands side to side like he’s accepting an award.
As we leave I remark that it’s like I’m starting over completely. I’m finished with school. The new chapter is starting. A new life, one of my own choosing.
A life I’ve always dreamed of.
The Virginity Clause
Harper
“You’re not putting those balls inside me, Benny,” I say, voice cracking, gaze fixed on the silver orbs sitting on his palm.
Swallowing hard, he replies, “The article I read said it would get you…ready for sex.”
I won’t give him crap for reading articles. I did the same. I read one about the female orgasm seventeen times. It was in the back of one of my mom’s women’s magazines. How to cook a great baked chicken, what not to wear to a summer party, and how to have a mind-blowing orgasm. The content of women’s magazines is a mystery to me, though I was happy to glean at least a little information aside from the porn Gifs Ben sent me on a bi-weekly basis.
We’re at my house because I have a queen bed and Benny has a twin. The candles are lit on top of my desk and my parents are away for a business meeting. That’s all that’s required for this momentous occasion. We’re both eighteen—legal, consenting adults who want experience, and while I’m being so candid, we want each other.
Ben puts the balls down on the desk.
“I’m a virgin. That stuff is supposed to be for people with more experience. I doubt balls…well, those balls, are required for orgasms and good sex.” My voice warbles when I say the word sex and I realize just how nervous I actually am.
His chest heaves a few times. I grin, relaxing a touch. “You’re having a panic attack,” I joke. “You’re about to pass out and I’m going to have to resuscitate you instead of have sex with you.”
“Shut up!” Ben barks. “I can’t believe it’s happening, that’s all.”
“You invoked The Virginity Clause. If you’re not ready, that’s okay,” I say, meaning it. “I’ll wait for you.” Standing from my bed, my feet heavy like bricks, I approach him. He’s leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets. His gaze follows me as I approach. “Okay?”
Benny closes his eyes. “I’m afraid I’m too ready. Do you know how long I’ve wanted this? I want it to last forever. Not like…two minutes.”
I look to the left in thought. “Probably since you first peeked into the girl’s locker-room and saw Jenny Megly’s vagina?” I let my gaze wander back to his. We haven’t kissed since the treehouse, but after that there’s been a crackling tension between us neither of us can deny. A few months ago my mom asked if I was dating Ben because of the way we’d been looking at each other.
If she sees it, God knows everyone else must too. I won’t go so far as to say that the kiss changed things between us, but it surely made things more. We know what it feels like. The desire. The emotions attached to the act rule our thoughts now.
Ben takes his hands out of his jeans pockets and sets them carefully on my shoulders. His hair is wet from a shower and it flops over one eye, on top of his glasses. I flick it out of the way. As if a reminder, he removes his glasses and sets them down. “I feel like you taking off your glasses shouldn’t be so sexy,” I say, laughing.
“That was sexy?” He smir
ks. “Wait until I take off your shirt.” Ben’s smile slips, and a carnal look replaces his mirth. My core clenches and desire floods my awareness. It’s more than want. I need him. Because he completes me in a way no one else can.
I lose my breath for a second and my heart races along with my thoughts. “I’ve wanted this with you since we kissed, Harper. If you had given any indication you wanted it, I would have stripped you down, kissed every square inch of your body and fucked you until you forgot you peed your pants in the treehouse when you were ten.”
“Your dirty talk in on point,” I remark, nodding firmly once. “Though you could have left out the pee. Pee isn’t very sexy.” Stepping forward, I’m in reaching distance. His back is still pressed against the wall. He reaches out and pulls me against his body.
Ben leans his forehead against mine. “I’m going to kiss you.”
“That’s a good place to start.”
“Is it a good place to finish, though?” Biting his lip, he swallows hard. He meant it as a joke, but it has the opposite effect right now. It stokes the flames inside me until I feel like I might explode if he isn’t inside me as soon as humanly possible.
Slowly he leans his chin up, and I do the same to match his mouth to mine. It’s a gentle peck, his lips barely parted, mine glossed to all hell in preparation for tonight. It’s marked on my calendar. I freeze the second his hands slide down to cup my ass. I’m wearing a cotton skirt that skims the back of my thighs. “It’s just an act. Remember that,” Ben whispers against my mouth.
“Just an act,” I repeat. I feel him hard against me, ready and willing. We’ve discussed every detail and we decided against using a condom. I went on birth control three months ago. We’re both virgins, so sexually transmitted diseases are off the table. We want our first time to be as perfect as it can possibly be. Skin on skin. Nothing separating us.
The weight of his hands leaves my back and he slides my shirt up and over my head. He brushes his knuckles against my bare skin as he goes and a tiny gasp leaves my mouth. I can’t catch my breath. “Touch me more,” I say. “That feels amazing.”
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