Life Plus One

by Rachel Robinson

  Everything in my body focuses on where he’s touching me. “It was so good. I didn’t know it could be that good.”

  He smiles against my mouth and I have to open my eyes to view it. His dimples are out and his hooded eyes tell me he thinks last night was more than good. “Just think. Today we bowl.”

  “Don’t you have work?” I ask, pushing away from him to go into the bathroom. I pee with the door open as Ben tells me he’s taken some time off work for a few days. It’s because another team has taken over this week, so some of the guys were able to put in successful leave requests. I wash my hands as I survey myself in the mirror. Ben’s back in the kitchen attending to our breakfast. Last night I told him this was the beginning of our new, truthful life and I don’t look the same.

  I look happy. A truthful happy. The kind you find when you finally stop lying to yourself and give in to what you know you need. I need Ben more than anything else. He doesn’t complete me. I don’t need a man to do that. I need a man to love me more than he loves anything else. There’s no question in my mind that he does. That regardless of his career choices or how busy he is, Ben will always love me most.

  I smile at my wild-eyed reflection and head to the living room to search my suitcase for something to wear to bowling on our first real date. I mark the day in my head, as the one where we started our forever over again. I’m sifting through my suitcase, folding and refolding as I organize.

  “Move it into my closet, Harper,” Ben says, appearing behind me, hands on his hips. “Solves the problem, right?”

  “It does. You’re okay sharing that space?” I ask, wiggling my eyebrows.

  He shrugs. “You’re doubting what I’d do to keep you here.” He nudges me out of the way and grabs my suitcase and carries it to the bedroom.

  The doorbell rings while he’s gone. “Shit,” I say under my breath. I pull on the hem of Ben’s shirt. All of my clothes just left the coffee table and entered his room.

  Ben runs out, his lounge pants slung low on his hips. “I’ll get it,” he says, eyes flicking from my bare legs to the door as he jogs.

  Of course it’s Norah, and blessed be, she didn’t use her key to waltz right in. “Ben. Sorry I didn’t call first,” she says. If I’m correct, like I probably am, she’s been crying. I have a reverse memory. The one where I barged into this house after Marcus ruined everything. Norah was so kind and gentle with me. The mere sight of me right now is going to be the opposite of that. My gaze darts around to find a hiding place.

  I can’t make it to the kitchen without being seen. I swear in Arabic under my breath and duck down next to the couch, getting on my knees to try to make myself smaller. “What happened? Are you okay?” Ben asks.

  “I need to talk to you,” she says, sobbing a little.

  Ben clears his throat. “It’s not a good time, Norah. Can we talk tonight?”

  “Oh. I guess so,” she replies. She’s getting the brush-off and she’s still being perfectly polite. I know I couldn’t do that. “What time works? It’s important I speak to you about something, Ben.” My stomach knots and an uneasy feeling invades the place that just held nothing but love.

  I peek out and Ben spies me in my hiding place and his eyes widen. Norah steps inside and immediately catches sight of me. “I was just cleaning…something. Over here. Dirty. Ah, needs to be cleaned.” The only dirty thing is Ben’s come dried on the inside of my legs and on my stomach and neck, and I’m pretty sure it’s in my left eyelash.

  I stand quickly in one fluid movement. She’s a woman. A smart one. It takes nothing more than a nano second for her eyes to dart to my bare legs, my appearance, and the smears of the lipstick on Ben’s shirt. The same shade she helped me select the day before to know everything that matters right in this awkward moment.

  “I’m so sorry, Norah,” I say, swallowing hard. “I need to use the restroom.” I excuse myself and flee the room with hot cheeks and a shame so deep I’ve never felt the likes of it before in my life. That’s what happens when you follow the straight and narrow path without deviating. Last night felt like flying. This morning, as it makes perfect sense, I’m crashing.

  The front door closes with a thud and I think they’re probably going to talk in the living room, but Ben strolls into his bedroom right behind me. “Harper. It’s fine. Don’t be embarrassed.”

  “How was that okay? She didn’t do anything wrong. That was cruel.”

  He throws his arms out. “She knew! That’s why we broke up! She knew. She didn’t call. It’s okay. Everything between us is fine.” Ben takes me in his arms and his scent comforts me even if it’s the one thing that marks me as a traitor. “We weren’t together. There wasn’t cheating or lying. I was honest with her about my feelings for you and that was when I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way. This was always going to happen between us. Always.”

  “It doesn’t mean I feel any better about it. I actually feel pretty shitty. Is she okay?”

  He sighs long and hard—relieved I seem to be coming around to his logic. I’m not. But I can let him think so because I don’t feel like arguing with him. “I’m sure she’s just torn up about the breakup and wants to talk. I’ll call her later on tonight. The scene in there as awful as it was, was what she needed to see.”

  I widen my eyes. “No one deserves to see that. I would have sat her down wearing a nice sundress and strappy sandals in a little café, and I’d tell her over coffee. Like a real woman would. Not some dirty whore. You’re all over my body. Literally. All over it.”

  “I’m sorry. It does make things easier, though, regardless of what it looks like. Plus, you just made my cock hard.”

  I scoff. “Don’t be such a dude. We’re having a conversation.” I feel giddy I have that effect on him. “You’re all over me,” I say again, smiling this time.

  He slides his right hand into his pants and pulls out his cock and starts stroking it in between us. He doesn’t take his eyes off mine. “I want to be in you,” he says, mouth slightly parted as his breaths come quicker.

  I reach up and unbutton the few buttons I have done and let his shirt fall to the floor. “I’m already wet,” I reply, bringing my hand down to slip my middle finger into my wet slit. Ben’s lustful gaze watches, lighting like fire when I move my finger in and out, to stroke my clit.

  He drops to his knees and moves my hand with his chin. He scratches my inner thighs with his five o’clock shadow, but his lips and tongue? Oh, they lick and suck and fuck me into a wild orgasm that brings me to the floor.

  Ben fucks me doggy style in front of the full-length mirror. He forces me to watch him in our reflection, holding my face in place with one hand. “I’m yours, Harper. Do you understand that?” he asks, eyes painfully serious as he pounds me furiously.

  I nod. He shakes his head. “No. I want to hear you say it. You need to know I’ll never belong to anyone else the way you have me.”

  “I understand,” I moan. “I’m going to come hard. All over your cock,” I say, keeping my eyes on his.

  He reaches around with his free arm and strokes my clit until I explode around him, flexing and clenching furiously. Waves and waves of pleasure knock me over. Never in my life has sex been such blind bliss. His cock is a balm to my body, the only thing that brings it to life. He comes seconds later, driving his dick deep inside me, hot bursts spraying over and over. I feel the last jerk and he falls on top of me, holding himself up barely.

  We’re both covered in sweat when he rolls off me to rub his knees.

  “Guess we have it all sorted then,” Ben says.

  “For now,” I pant, grabbing the soreness between my legs. “Ass later?” I ask, pulling one arm across my chest to stretch it, and then the other.

  “Heaven, I tell you,” Ben says, leaning over to kiss my lips. When he pulls away he slides down to kiss my wet pussy. “Heal up, kitten. I’ll see you soon.” Even through the sore pain, a tingle of pleasure still comes at his lapping tongue. How is that eve
n possible?

  “Let’s shower,” Ben says, hopping up. My heart is pounding out a staccato of everything I’m feeling in this moment.

  He lets me have all the hot water and finishes me off for the millionth time with his fingers.

  “We’re never leaving this house,” I murmur.

  “Bowling,” he says.

  It sounds more like a threat than anything else.

  ++++

  The beer tastes gross and the food has more calories than Grandma’s pound cake, but I’m with Ben, so nothing else matters. I throw a spare and dance a little even though I feel like I’ve been ridden hard and hung up wet. We can’t get enough of each other. That’s saying something because we spent every single day together the summer when we turned eleven. We called it the summer challenge. I went on his family vacation and he came on mine. Our parents took bets on how long it would be until we’d tire of each other. We never did, and they all lost.

  Now that we’re adults it’s a bit of the case of the summer challenge, except years of pent-up sexual frustration equals some seriously mind-blowing orgasms.

  “That was lucky. You’re cheating, though, so if you win today it’s because you wore that skirt. I can’t focus.” Ben slides his fingers across the short hem of my skirt and takes them away quickly, teasing both him and me.

  “Listen, I can remember multiple times in our past when I wore things far more provocative than this skirt and you won. Weren’t you paying attention back then?”

  He nods, drying his hands on top of the hand dryer. “I’m always paying attention. I hadn’t tasted your pussy minutes before throwing balls down the lane, though. That makes a difference. I think you’re laced with illegal drugs.”

  I raise one brow. “Better hope they don’t pop on your next drug screen.” Laughing, I hug him around the waist. “Or maybe they should show up and then you’ll be dishonorably discharged for swallowing too much Harper Rosehall.”

  His chuckle reverberates through my body—buzzing, eliciting the new electric current that connects us. “In all seriousness, though. I love you, Harper Jean.” He squeezes me. Just once. “Everything about this is right. Breathing is easier. Living makes sense. I love you more than anything else and I can finally say it out loud.” He taps some guy on the shoulder as he gets up to bowl on the lane next to us.

  “Sir, excuse me. I need you to know that I love this woman. I love her,” he says again, repeating himself just to make me squirm with embarrassment. Ben releases me, throws his fists up to the ceiling and screams, “I’m in love with Harper Jean!”

  The guy looks at him funny, flicks his gaze to me wearing a confused smirk, and points at his ball waiting for him on the rack.

  I’m too smitten to be angry at Ben’s insane outburst. Grabbing me again, he pulls me against his chest. “I love you,” he whispers, confirming I understand the severity of his words. While we’ve said I love you to each other so many times in our past, this time it means something more. It means the love we spent years cultivating through friendship finally gets the opportunity to break through and live on its own. Gazing at his face, so different, yet exactly the same, I finally reply, “I love you, too.”

  We’re both smiling wide, stupid lovers’ glee written all over our faces. “Enough to throw gutter balls for the rest of the game?” Ben whispers, tucking my hair behind my ear.

  I shake my head. “Probably enough to throw gutter balls for the rest of my life,” I respond.

  “Damn,” Ben says, sliding his hands down to cup my ass. “I like your enthusiasm.” His dick hardens against me.

  “The prospect of winning gives you a boner. There’s something wrong with you,” I hiss into his ear, looking to our side to see if anyone is watching us.

  “You make my dick hard,” he says, leaning close to whisper in my ear.

  I fidget, trying to break free from our salty, completely inappropriate, public embrace. Ben doesn’t let me. He kisses me on my neck, my chin, and then trails his soft lips to my mouth. His eyes fall closed as he kisses me, slowly, deliberately. Someone somewhere in the bowling alley celebrates a strike, and the sound of pins being pelted by heavy balls cascades around us. I melt a little, turning to a fine putty in the safety of his strong, familiar arms. I’ll never worry if someone will be there to catch me, or contemplate the way his mind works.

  I lick the edge of his lip as I pull away from the kiss. “I can’t feel anything except everything,” Ben admits.

  “Feeling everything is a gift.”

  He rubs his lips together, tasting me. “It’s also a curse. I can never go back from here. It’s an impossibility.” His gaze skirts from the bottom of my face up to the top and back down again. “You’re my blind spot, Harper. I can’t see around you.”

  There has to be some negative connotation associated with being a blind spot, but Ben says it in a way that forces me to realize the magnitude of his feelings. I decide on the truth as my retort. “If what you’re trying to explain is that I’m your handicap, then I have the advantage. I can cause darkness whenever I want?”

  He shakes his head, a small grin playing on his lips. “You blind with light.”

  He loves with his whole heart. A fact I can’t fault because I do the same. It’s the first time he’s also wearing it on his sleeve. “It’s your turn,” I say. How do I respond to that? There’s no follow-up appropriate enough, strong enough.

  Ben grabs his ball and winks at me over his shoulder. He throws a damn strike and celebrates by moonwalking into our neighbor’s lane. Everyone around us laughs at his antics.

  “Stop breaking the rules!” I call out.

  He does some other weird dance back into our lane.

  Shaking my head, I take a sip of my piss beer. I wince at the awful flavor and grab my ball to go next. Ben’s phone starts ringing on the table behind the computer. It’s Norah, and I glance away, unwilling to ruin this moment. He kisses me quickly on the cheek.

  “I’m going to grab this. Try not to lose too badly,” Ben says, smiling.

  It’s a decent ball. I knock over seven. I’m waiting for a barb, but when I glance at Ben, he’s ashen, the phone pressed against his ear.

  Slowly, his eyes meet mine and the sheer terror I see there is enough to incinerate the whole world.

  Twice.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ben

  I’m married to Norah. If I say it to myself seven hundred times a day it still doesn’t sound right. Her birth control failed and I’m going to be a daddy. Doing the right thing was the hardest decision I’ve ever made in my life. I made the decision to make her an honest woman after drinking a case of beer with Tahoe. Harder still was telling Harper that Norah was pregnant and I intended to marry her to make sure our child has both parents, all the time. Sometimes you make things work for the greater good. I know this firsthand. I expected hostility, but what I got from Harper was even worse.

  Pride.

  Harper was proud of me for doing the right thing. Part of me hoped she’d tell me to love her, stay with her, that she’d be a great stepmother to my child, but Harper Rosehall will always do the right thing. The one time she deviated will go down as the best night of my life. Nothing is going to change that. Not a marriage of moral code and conduct, and surely not a child. Harper is too rational, calculating for that. Granted, tears started to pour down her face a minute later, which erased some of her proud words.

  It’s fitting that the one thing that could pull me away from Harper and our age old love happened the moment I felt the most secure in all ways. It was a rug ripped out from underneath me when Norah called me at the bowling alley. She’d been trying to tell me earlier when she stopped by my house, but I was still in a fucking love cloud with Harper—too wrapped up in my perfect world to see how upset she was.

  I’m a dickhead. No man has ever carried the amount of guilt on his shoulders that I do. I don’t let it show because that would make the women feel even worse about this fucked u
p situation. Norah wasn’t easy to convince, either. She immediately went on to tell me she’d raise the baby by herself and that I could be involved as much or as little as I wanted to.

  Once the shock of her insinuation wore off I was furious she thought I was the type of man to not take care of his responsibilities. Especially one as great as being a proper father to a child. Everything else stemmed from there. My love and Harper’s feelings had to take a backseat to the new life I helped create. Norah is still wary of my love for Harper, but with a baby girl coming, it’s easy for her to get lost in the world of everything baby and pregnancy. She overlooks a lot. Or she pretends to.

  The way I stare out the window waiting for Harper to pull up. The way I close my eyes when Norah kisses me good night. How I can’t bear to look at the full-length mirror in our bedroom. How I haven’t smiled in weeks. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited to be a father. More than I ever thought I’d be. I’m upset that it’s not what I pictured in my mind, but then again, what ever is?

  Norah gets out of bed to use the restroom. Again. I roll over to face the window and stare. The long window is naked as Norah is redecorating, so it’s bright as fuck in the morning, but you can see everything at night. The stars. The clouds. The moon.

  The toilet flushes and I feel her crawl back into bed and her soft breaths. “Ben,” Norah whispers.

  I can tell by the tone of her voice this is going to be one of the conversations that make me want to jump out of that window and run fast and far. I clear my throat to let her know I hear her.

  “You’re not happy. You told me you needed some time to get used to the idea. It’s a lot for me too. I don’t want you to be unhappy. That’s worse than co-parenting with two happily unmarried parents.” She’s more perceptive than I thought. Norah is my wife. I think that sentence three times. Norah is my pregnant wife. She’s carrying my child.