by Mj Fields
He grabs my hand and pulls me behind him. “I’m fucking starving. Let’s eat.”
I grab some plates as he takes the casserole, which he obviously put in, out and sets it on the stove.
I turn on the boom box, and a commercial is playing.
“Tell me what your normal Saturday consists of,” I say, placing forks beside the plates.
“This is home turf; tell me what Tess Ross does after her thirty-minute shower on a Saturday.”
“Okay,” I say as he pulls out my chair, and I sit. “I normally get up and make breakfast.”
“You did that,” he says, scooping out some of the casserole and setting it on my plate.
“Then I throw my hair up.”
He scoops some on his plate and sits. “Did that, too.”
“I’m boring.”
“No way in hell. And I just want to know you, the real you, so keep it coming.”
I chew as I lift my fork and point it to the boom box.
“You listen to mainstream music.” He chuckles.
After swallowing, I shake my head. “I clean while listening to the Top 100 and decide what music is worth buying, and …” I stop and shake my head, feeling my face begin to burn.
“Don’t stop now. I have a feeling we’re getting to the good stuff.” He stands up to grab our empty water glasses, setting them on the table before heading to the fridge and grabbing the milk.
I don’t say a thing. He’ll think I’m immature.
“Come on; spill the milk,” he says as he pours … the milk.
I smile. “Fine, but this started a long time ago with Jade and I.”
“Love a tradition.” He returns the milk to the fridge.
“More a superstition.”
He sits and picks up his fork. “Let’s hear it.”
“Aside from hearing new music and finding new bands …” I pause.
He sets his fork down and sits back. “Out with it, Ross.”
I blurt out, “Number one gives us an idea of what the week will hold.”
He looks amused as he picks up the fork and scoops up more egg bake then states, “The countdown.”
I shrug.
He reaches out his foot, hooks the leg of my chair, and pulls me toward him, saying, “Cool. Always start this late?” he asks, pulling my plate over and putting it in front of me.
I shrug as I push my eggs around.
“Number one on this week’s chart, for the second week in a row, ‘The Sign’ by Ace Of Base.”
I watch his smile grow, brighten, magnetizes the area around him as he looks at me over his glass, then sets it down. “So, two weeks in a row, huh?”
I nod.
“That why you sang it last weekend?”
I raise my shoulders, and they stall.
He sighs contently as he picks up his fork. “Any chance that’s why you showed up at the club?”
I huff as I pick up my fork. “No.”
“Calling bullshiiiit,” he croons.
“Heard the song, went to the mall because I needed to get the Gin Blossoms tee, and ran into Cassidy. She asked me to go. I said sure, why not.”
“So, it was a sign.”
I nod.
“Love that,” he says before shoving his fork in his mouth.
Washing the dishes after eating, I catch him staring at Toby’s Jeep again.
“Do you have any questions for me about yesterday? About Toby?”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Ben looks over at me.
“Well, I just figured you might have questions.”
“Tess, if it’s going to upset you, then I don’t need to know. You told me last night that you loved him, and he died. Two weeks ago today, right?”
“Yep. Don’t you want to know how I could be all over you so soon?”
He sets the towel down, turns around, leans against the counter, and nods. “Sure, tell me.”
I shake my head, realizing it was stupid. “I thought I was ready, but now—”
“Let me tell you what I think.”
I nod.
“I think you’ve been through more than anyone at our age should go through. I think you were lonely. I think you needed someone to pull you out of a funk. I’m pretty sure it was a fluke, but I hope it was more, that I was playing up in Syracuse that night. I think we’re attracted to each other, and it’s comfortable because we’ve known each other for a while, even if you didn’t remember me at first.” He takes my hand. “I also think that you are wildly curious about the ways your body has responded to things lately. I think all of those feelings combined are completely confusing to you, and that’s why I promise you, Tessa Ross, I will not push you until you are ready. Does that sound about right?”
I just stare at him. Ben is such a great guy, and I’m a fucking mess.
“Tessa?”
I whisper, “I just don’t know why that’s all right with you? You deserve better. More.”
“I’m in no hurry. I have but one expectation. I don’t share. Give me your focus, okay?” He rubs his thumb across my knuckles. “I’ll give you mine. If it ends, then I don’t want resentments; I want us to stay friends.”
“How exactly does that work? The friends afterward?” I obviously don’t know how to do that, not with Lucas, anyway. “On a good note?”
“You don’t share, Tessa. That’s when you hurt each other. And I don’t go back—when it ends it ends. I don’t believe in one person destined to be with me, like fate. I believe you find someone you enjoy, and you give each other respect. If you decide it’s together forever, and you commit to working at it, it’ll all work out when it’s a person who feels the same.”
I whisper my worry, “Why do I still miss him, both of them, when I am sitting here with you? God, Ben, you’re”—I wave my free hand in front of him—“everything, and I don’t want to hurt you by saying that, but—”
He cups the side of my face. “You could have thrown Lucas under the bus last night. I’d have run over him, backed up, and done it again. He could have shown me a video, and if you said it was all him, I’d have still believed you, and not because I’m stupid. You were honest, and you don’t owe me that, but it’s who you are. You were hurting. You needed the physical. I’ll give you that, and you’ll see I’m more, and that my word is—”
I put my hand over his and press against it. “Why the hell are you single again?”
“You believe in the Top 100. I believe in truly knowing someone so I can build to what my parents have. I’ve yet to find it, but I think I’m on the right trail.”
“And college?”
He rolls his eyes. “More fucking school.”
“You don’t want to—”
He shrugs. “It’s what we do next, right?”
Without thought, I step forward, push up on my toes, and kiss him.
I inhale his scent, seal it to memory, replace Lucas’s—but not Toby’s—and allow myself to believe in my attraction to Ben. How he smells like the woods on a crisp fall night.
He laughs against my lips, and I pull back.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I—”
“You should have, and more often.”
“Then, why did you laugh?”
“’Cause you’re getting there.”
I step back and touch my lips. “Am I a bad kisser or—”
He grabs my hip, pulls me hard against him, and inhales.
Fuck.
I look up and roll my eyes.
“I dig it.”
I try to act like he didn’t just bust me. “Dig what?”
“Taking me in … deeper.”
We rode all afternoon with our dads. I stayed in the back, and Ben was in the front, being a hot shot. He would turn around and do circles around me. We stopped for lunch at a diner in town and talked like best friends, and he focused completely on the present and kept me there, too.
At around seven, we pulled back into the farm to change our socks and glove
s.
“You’re riding with me when we head back out.”
“Whatever, maniac.” I laugh.
“What if I agree to slow it down?”
I tap my chin in thought. “Well, then I might consider it.”
“Okay then, let’s go,” Ben says, grabbing my hand and pulling me out into the kitchen. “You guys ready?”
They laugh, and Dad says, “We’re done for the night.”
“You don’t mind if Tess and I go out, do you?”
“No, just slow it down so she can keep up,” Dad warns.
“I will. She’s going to ride with me.”
Dad looks at him nervously.
“I promise she’ll be safe with me.”
“Tessa, if he gets crazy, you drive.”
“I will, Dad.”
He starts out slow and frequently asks if I’m okay. Each time, I say yes, he goes a little faster. The feeling? Exhilarating.
We pull into The Spot, and he takes off my helmet for me.
I push up my sleeve and look at my watch. It’s nine o’clock, two hours since we stopped at the farm. I can’t believe how quickly time is passing.
We walk in, and I say hello to everyone as we make our war to the bar to grab a hot coco.
Aunt Josie ditches a conversation with Spokes, a regular, and heads to us. “You two hungry?”
“I’m fine.” I lean in and give her a kiss.
“I could eat,” he says. “Can we sit over by the band?”
“You can find a table, it’s yours, sugar.” Josie leans over and pecks him on the cheek. “Give me your order, and I’ll bring it out.”
“Skip the line huh?” Ben grins, and she nods. “We’ll take the special.”
We find a table.
He leans in as he unzips his coat. “Yeehaw stuff your jam, huh?”
Laughing, I elbow him.
“You like this?”
“I do.” I laugh.
“All right then, cowgirl.” He spins me to face him. “Let’s take these clothes off and cut a rug.”
He stands and pulls me up to unzip my jacket as I look around in maybe shock? As he hangs it on the back of my chair, he then unzips my bibs, and they get stuck.
“Sorry, these things are a pain in the—”
I look down as he easily gets them unzipped.
“Just takes patience.” He winks.
I push them down then step out of them. When I look up, he’s already shed his clothes.
Note to self: buy new bibs.
We dance, and he spins me, dips me, and we laugh the whole time. When a slow song starts, Ben pulls me in close, kisses me, and says, “You know this one?”
“Does a bear shit in the woods?”
He laughs, and I start to sing, “The Heart Won’t Lie” by Reba and Vince Gill.
When Vince Gill’s part starts, Ben sings, and I am so captivated by his ability to sing anything, even music he acted like he didn’t like. “Long after tonight, will you still hear my voice through the radio?”
Smiling like a mad woman, I nod.
He winks, dips me deeply, and continues singing.
“Old desires make us act carelessly.
Long after tonight, after the fire.
After the scattered ashes fly.
Through the four winds blown and gone.
Will you come back to me?”
When he pulls me up, I hug him, and then we finish the song, just like that, hugging.
Aunt Josie brings us a huge plate of chicken and biscuits, and we eat and listen to music.
He leans back in his seat and pushes his stomach out. “Gutted. You ready to head back?”
I push back. “I’m going to use the bathroom first.”
“I’ll be right here”—he plasters on a fake smile—“enjoying the hell out of this music.”
I cup my hands around my mouth and let out an, “I call bullshiiiit.”
He chucks a napkin at me, laughing, and I head to the bathroom.
Coming out of the bathroom, smile on my face, I look up and see Lucas.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. How the hell did I not think about him being here, working? It’s a freaking Saturday night.
He gives me a look that says you’re pathetic, or maybe it’s one of disgust, then looks away.
I hurry to the table, and Ben stands up, holding my jacket. His smile falls when he sees what I imagine is hurt. “What’s wrong, Tess?”
“I forgot it was Lucas’s night to work here. He must think I am such a bitch.”
“Well, then he doesn’t know you as well as you think he does.”
He helps me dress quickly then takes my hand.
Walking past the bar, he throws money on it. I try to give Josie a smile and wave.
“Let’s bounce, girl.”
Outside, he puts my helmet on me, and then his. He sits down, and I climb behind him, wrapping around him tighter that I had on the way up.
He starts the sled and yells back, “Hang on tight.”
The first crossing we come to, he lifts his shield and looks back. “You all right?”
I nod, and he turns around, and we take off.
Thankfully, there is no awkward moments when we get back. Dad and Frank meet us outside, and I tell them I have to pee.
When I come out of the bathroom, Ben’s on the couch and some old episode of M.A.S.H is on TV.
He pats the spot next to him, and I sit.
“You feel bad when you feel like you’ve disappointed someone, right?”
“What?” I ask, needing clarification.
“Okay, I’ll slow it down.” He reaches over, arms circling my knees as he pulls them up across his legs. “You felt guilty about having a good time tonight as soon as you saw him. That sucks, Tess. Is his happiness more important than yours? If so, why do you think that little of yourself?”
“I don’t know how to answer that.”
“Why is it your responsibility to make him okay? Do you think, for the rest of your life, you can be that person for him and still be you?” He keeps asking questions. “What happens when you get married and have kids, and you’ve got to take care of his needs instead of your own? Who is going to take care of you so that you can be the best you can for your kids? You don’t have to answer … just think about it.” He looks at the TV as he rubs my feet.
“Let me ask you a couple questions, Ben Sawyer.”
He looks at me, shocked.
“What makes you think you can lie to me?”
Further shocked.
“You were busting on country music, and then you pull Vince Gill out of your ass and nail it.”
He smirks.
“And …”
“Oh God, there’s more?” he asks, faking horror.
I give him a quick nod. “You have to answer this question honestly.”
He holds up his hands. “I wouldn’t dare tell a lie.”
“Do you have a foot fetish?”
He throws his head back and laughs. God, I love that sound … laughter. But I love it more when it hits his eyes.
From the kitchen, I hear Frank say, “You got that all tangled up, Tessa. His mother’s got a Vince Gill fetish. He knows every damn song that bastard sings.”
Laughing, I call back, “Thanks for clearing that up for me.”
“Anytime, kiddo.” Frank chuckles.
Ben whispers, “And Dad can hear a woodchuck shit in a field a hundred yards away while he’s on a tractor.”
Dad and Frank both laugh as they walk in.
Dad gives Ben a look, and Ben gives Dad a nod.
“Behave,” Dad says to me at the same time Frank says, “Have fun,” to Ben.
Seriously sexist.
Frank heads upstairs—I assume to Alex and Jake’s room to take his bed, since he’s with Mom—and Dad heads into his.
Ben pulls me up and manhandles me while maneuvering himself so I’m facedown and across his lap.
Then he proceeds to rub every inch of my
back.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say on a moan.
“Just to hear that sound, I’ll do it all night long.”
In the morning, I wake up, lying on the couch, and Ben is in the recliner.
I hit the bathroom.
When I open my drawer to grab my brush, the pill bottle rattles. I give it the figurative finger and whisper, “Ben’s magic hands work way better than you.” Then I slam the drawer and brush my teeth.
I jump nearly out of my skin when I see Ben’s hands gripping the top of the door jamb with a sleepy morning smile and messy brown waves.
“Magic—”
“Privacy?”
Grinning, he walks over and grabs his black leather travel bag, pulls out his toothbrush, and steps behind me. “You’re adorable in the morning.” He reaches around me and ask, “Toothpaste please?”
Squirting paste on his toothbrush, I huff, “Just in the morning?”
He grins. “Hot at night … until the snoring starts.”
I elbow him, and he grunts out a laugh.
“I do not snore.”
“Like hell you don’t. And you sleep like the dead.”
I roll my eyes as I brush my teeth. “Must be the magic hands.”
He laughs.
Together, we make sausage gravy, listening to a mix tape. He’s always close and gives me little squeezes, pats, and nudges every time he comes close, or before he steps away, and not in a sexual way; it’s affectionate. And after the past few months, I really like affectionate. I find myself easily doing the same in return.
With the biscuits in the oven, the gravy covered and thickening, and all the prep dishes cleaned, I lean against the counter and feel … peace.
He walks back in from wherever he disappeared to, touches my cheeks, leans down, and kisses me. It’s the kind of kiss that starts with little pecks, and then the little pecks last longer, get deeper, mouths open, tongues touch, and …
“You two are seriously disturbing,” Alex grumbles.
Ben still holds my face firmly yet gently so I can’t move away, keeping his lips on mine. He smiles, contentious as always, and then we both laugh.
Then the screen door closes with a slight squeak, alerting us that the dads are coming in, as Alex brushes against Ben, nudging him as he walks past and toward the coffee pot.