Astor Hill

Chapter 27

27

Olivia

When I get to Ben’s apartment, I’m once again struck by how much has changed in just a few short months. The first time I was here I hadn’t wanted to waltz right in when he texted me to; now I’m punching in the door code without even a second thought. But just like the first time I was here, Ben’s out of sight and I hear his shower running down the hall.

Opening his fridge, I inspect the contents and find that since I was here two days ago, he’s stocked the entire bottom shelf with Diet Coke. I gleefully smile to myself, reveling in the fact that he would purchase such a ‘toxic’ drink for me and me alone. I crack one open, deciding it’s enough to hold me over until our secret double date with Sloane and her tinder date later tonight.

“Ben, I’m here!” I call out as I enter his room, collapsing onto his magnificent bed, but not before putting my Coke on a coaster. I’ve never met a man so adamant about coasters.

I hear his shower door click open, a sliver of his hair protruding from the door frame. “Practice ran late,” he says over the sluicing sound of water. “I just got in but I’ll be quick.”

Checking the time, I leave the luxurious comfort of Ben’s bed and remind myself that we’re staying at his place tonight. We mostly split time between my place and his, though it isn’t anything we’ve officially discussed. It’s just that more often than not, I don’t want to end my night with Ben. I don’t want to end my day with Ben, either. I don’t want to end anything, and that thought truly plagues me. When I think about it too deeply, my heart swells and I feel giddy, but my mind trips itself into a spiral where I question my sanity. It feels like I’ve fallen so quickly for Ben, but if I’m honest with myself, I started falling for him long before I should’ve been.

I shake the thought away, intent on finding an outfit for him and saving us some time. Rifling through his closet, I settle on a gray cashmere sweater, noting the chill in the air, and those jeans that I love so much. I reach up, trying my best to grab the neutral pair of sneakers I spot on a top shelf, when a wrapped package just misses my face.

It’s rectangular, and I’m almost certain it’s a book. There’s a note on the parchment, the handwriting scrawled and barely legible, but I think it says ‘ Wuthering Heights special request’. I pause, wondering if my mind is so addled with thoughts of love and lust that I’m imagining that Ben got this book for me. But why else would he have a parchment wrapped copy of Wuthering Heights? The obvious answer is usually the right one, I think to myself, smiling once again at the thoughtfulness of this man. Not wanting him to think I spoiled his surprise, I clumsily attempt to put it back where I found it.

I look down at what I’ve selected for Ben tonight, pleased, but feeling like something’s missing.

A watch.

While I don’t think Ben would miss it, I certainly would. Ben alone is distracting, but Ben in a watch is tortuous in the best way possible. I peruse his collection, amused to find that among his watches he seems to be collecting wearable knickknacks. At this point, I know Ben can be sentimental, but the plethora of concert wristbands, charity bracelets, and woven things reminds me just how sentimental he is. The glint of a seashell catches my attention and I pick up a woven bracelet almost identical to the one I saw in Lily’s stuff the other day.

Hi, Lil , I think to myself, a magical feeling enveloping me. For years, I thought letting Lily back into my life would be scary, disorienting, unsettling. But instead, I’m finding her everywhere, and the reassurance her little signs give me are more than I could have ever asked for.

At the sound of footsteps behind me I turn around, not at all shocked to find Ben with a teasing smile that tells me he knows how badly I want him to drop his towel. I level my gaze with the intent on not getting distracted since we’re already so close on time.

“Are those for me?” His amused smirk sends lightening through me, and I reconsider if timeliness is really that important.

“Mhm,” I respond, still debating my next move, when I feel the subtle weight of that bracelet in my hand. “Where’s this one from?” I ask, hoping to confirm my guardian angel’s presence.

“Oh… I think,” he scrunches his brows, trying to recollect where it’s from, nodding when he remembers. “I’m pretty sure we got them on the boardwalk in the Hamptons.” He pulls his shirt over his head, but not before dropping his towel, his smug face reemerging with a tempting twinkle in his eyes.

I step toward him, arching up on my tip toes, my hand hovering just over where he’s at attention, and though I intend to just tease him a little, I find myself stroking him, my lust addled brain taking over.

“Jesus, Liv,” he groans, his head falling back.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” I rasp against his neck, my lips barely touching his neck. Before I can even register, he’s picked me up so I’m straddling him as he walks me toward his bed. “I was hoping we would spend more time here today,” I add, biting my smile.

“I’m more than happy to make that happen.” Instead of laying me down, he sits on the edge, bringing me down with him. I look down at him, his eyes heavy with anticipation and mine likely not much better. I don’t look away, just discreetly rise and pull my underwear to the side before sinking down on him. A hiss escapes him as I gasp, and his mouth finds mine, his tongue running against the seam of my lips begging to be let in. And when I do, it’s like I’m rolling down a hill and him with me, the intensity so fast and overwhelming that all I can do is give myself over to it. Our angle gives just enough friction, and his hands are on my chest, rubbing and pinching at just the right moment, and I fall over the edge right as he does, unsure of how it’s always this perfect with him.

I rest my forehead against his, our breathing slowly normalizing, and I have the urge to say those three words. But I don’t.

“We’re going to be late, Cabot,” I tell him with a grin, not at all irritated by our detour, reluctantly leaving his embrace and heading to the bathroom. “Sloane said the trivia starts at 7:00 on the dot.” I peer at my reflection in the mirror, my post climax flush creating a blush I wish I could recreate with makeup. He appears behind me a moment later, fully dressed, his chin resting atop my head.

“I got you a present, but something tells me you already know that.” He pulls the parchment covered book from behind his back, an easy smile gracing his face. “For an investigative journalist, your snooping skills leave much to be desired,” he winks.

With a roll of my eyes, I delicately peel back the parchment.

“How did you know?” I hadn’t told him I wanted it. In fact, I looked at dozens of books that day and this one was just one of many.

“You get this look in your eye when you really want something. I could spot it from a mile away.” He regards me with sincerity, and I feel my heart sputter, those three words sitting at the top of my throat.

“Thank you,” is all I say instead, turning my head and kissing him deeply. “I…” I pause, the war over whether or not to voice this blossoming feeling raging inside me, “love this. So much. You have no idea.” His eyes are heated with something more than lust, and it feels like he wants to say something too. But then he blinks it away, and I do the same.

“Have you ever played trivia?” he changes the topic, though the question has merit.

“Yes. Once. And I won, so I think that makes me good at all trivia,” I state matter of factly, because it feels objectively true.

“Isn’t it Prison Break trivia?” His amused expression tells me he thinks I’m not up for the challenge.

“Trivia is not about knowing things. It’s about knowing people . Alliances are half the battle. Come on, we’re going to be late.” I grab his hand, feeling giddy by the ease of this, urging him down the hallway and out the door, and silently hope that I will always know nights like this with him.