Every Hidden Truth (Far From Ruined #2)

1. Speedo From Heaven

1

Speedo From Heaven

It was safe to say I was not a poet. But if I was, I’d write one hell of a prose about Ben’s ass. It would rhyme, and yes, it would be eloquent as shit. If I thought it would ease my sexual frustration, I’d Robert-Frost that bitch until those diverging roads didn’t know which way they were going.

I could waste pages explaining the paradox of his loose jeans that still managed to hug the perky swells of his ass like a glove. The words would stretch for miles, describing the peek of his boxers above his belt and how it drove me to self-combustion. And don’t get me started about his damn Speedo.

That would be the name of my poem: Speedo from Heaven . Because, damn, if Ben’s ass wasn’t angelic.

But, alas, I was not a poet.

Instead of putting my musings to paper, I settled for ogling Ben’s ass unabashedly as he stood by the teacher’s desk to retrieve our study guide. He wore a black belt today, and his boxers were lavender. Who knew lavender was a sexy color?

“Silas?”

I startled as Ben dropped into the seat beside me. He laughed at my hissed curse as my knee slammed into the underside of my desk. Gritting my teeth against the pulsing pain in my kneecap, I punched Ben’s shoulder hard enough to earn a pained oomph from him.

“You doing okay there?” His crooked grin spread over his face, and I thanked the agony in my leg for distracting me from his adorable dimple.

“Peachy.” I rubbed my knee and banished the embarrassed heat rising over the back of my neck.

Ben cocked a golden eyebrow, and his bright blue eyes sparkled with amusement as he slapped our study guide on the combined surface of our desks. “You sure? You were totally spacing out.”

“I was staring at your ass,” I said honestly, and he scoffed.

“Whatever,” he mumbled as his cheeks darkened.

I cackled and jabbed him right in his dimple. Ever the mature one, he didn’t retaliate.

He focused on the study guide and swiped his blond curls out of his face. His hair was too long to be anything but shaggy chaos, so the curls fell right back into his eyes. No amount of run-throughs or sifting fingers could calm the stubborn locks. But I didn’t complain. I loved his hair, loved how it smelled like spring soap with a hint of chlorine, loved the way the ends curled as they air-dried.

Perhaps I could write a poem about his hair. It wouldn’t be quite as passionate as Speedo from Heaven , but few things compared to the beauty of his ass. His hair ranked second place. Third, if I counted his dimple.

“Si?” He sang my name as his hand waved in front of my eyes. “You’re exceptionally spacey today. Something on your mind?”

“Yeah, your ass. I already told you that,” I deadpanned, and he rolled his eyes.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Damn, throwing out big words like you’re some sort of big shot.”

He laughed. “Do you not know what incorrigible means?”

I punched his arm again in answer, and he laughed harder.

“I was just kidding,” he said as I ignored him, glaring down at the study guide.

His fingers brushed over my knuckles, and my gaze zeroed in on them as they slowly, tentatively slipped between mine. “I don’t think you’re stupid. You know that, right?”

The sincerity warmed my heart, and I hesitantly met his ocean-blue stare. “I know.”

We retained eye contact for a long moment before he smiled and squeezed my fingers. “Good.”

He withdrew, and my palm tingled from the heat of his hand lingering on my skin. This wasn’t the first time he’d touched me this way, yet every single time without fail, it sent my body into fits. My heart pounded in my ears, and my lungs struggled to inflate. Sweat slicked over my palms as my blood warmed.

Ever since our impromptu sleepover at his house a few weeks ago, our relationship had changed. An undeniable shift had taken place as we lay in his bed, his limbs snaking around my body like a boa constrictor.

Given my untrustworthy feelings, I shouldn’t have allowed it, but I hadn’t fought him when he’d dragged me into his bed after waking from a nightmare. It was the longest night of my life, lying there with the weight of his head on my chest and the softness of his skin beneath my fingertips, his hair sifting through my fingers as his breath puffed against my neck.

Waking content and happy, tangled in his arms, I’d watched him sleep like a creepy stalker as I played with his loose curls. It was perfect, yet not nearly enough.

Innocent as our cuddling had been, it had marked a shift in our dynamic. He touched me more now—a lot more—and there were moments I caught him staring, like he enjoyed the view of my ass in skinny jeans. Sometimes, I questioned the authenticity of such moments—the desire in his eyes was merely a trick of the light; he wasn’t flirting, only teasing.

But in secret places, I wondered and hoped. Maybe, just maybe, Benjamin Adams wasn’t as straight as I’d first assumed.

“So,” Ben interrupted my thoughts, “did you get your schedule for next semester?”

Nerves exploded in my stomach as I nodded warily. “Um, yeah, my guidance counselor printed it out for me yesterday.”

Beaming, he pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. “Do you have it with you? Maybe we have another class together.”

“In a school this big, I doubt it.” I retrieved my schedule from my phone case as his hopefulness made my stomach flip-flop.

We splayed our schedules side-by-side on the desk to compare them. We had no classes together—no surprise there—but we did share the same lunch period. It was a small win.

“You’re taking an art class?” he asked, and nerves fluttered to life in my gut.

“Um, yeah.” I cleared my throat and lifted a hand to my ear to fidgeted with my tragus surface piercing. “My mandatory credits didn’t fill the whole day, so I had a spot for an elective. I figured, why not?”

Stealing a peek from the corner of my eye, I flushed red under Ben’s jubilant grin. “Painting?”

I nodded.

“Si, that’s great.”

With a shrug, I refolded my schedule and tucked it back into my phone case. “I guess. I mean, if it sucks then I only have to suffer through one semester.”

His fingers cupped my elbow, and I swallowed thickly, still somehow embarrassed by my choice in elective. I could have opted for a free period and come to school an hour later, but ever since Ben’s encouragement to explore painting, I wanted to try. It was stupid since I probably lacked both the talent and the discipline for it. But, for once, I wanted to take a chance.

“I think you’ll be great.” He squeezed my elbow.

“I guess we’ll see.” I removed my arm from his loose grasp.

Reading my discomfort, he changed the subject, tugging on the sleeve of his California hoodie I wore. “Am I ever gonna get this back?”

I’d stolen the sweatshirt a while back under the ruse of being cold and had yet to return it. “Probably not. You should keep a better eye on your shit. Not my fault if your hoodie was a convenient snatch.”

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling as he dragged a fingertip over my wrist under the lip of the sleeve. “I don’t mind. It looks good on you.”

Swallowing thickly, I glanced at him from under my lashes as my cheeks warmed. Our gazes locked and something filled the space between us, space that was both too much and not enough.

“Are you saying you like me in your clothes, Adams?” I asked in hopes of making him blush again. I wasn’t disappointed.

His cheeks pinked beautifully, but he surprised me when he held my stare. “Yeah, I think I am.”

My naughty grin faded at his serious expression, and I kept perfectly still as he reached toward me and plucked my beanie off my head. He plopped the black fabric on his own head and settled it in place until it covered the tips of his ears.

Damn, he looked good in my beanie.

“Now we’re even,” he said. “And you have hat-head.”

I grunted and ran my hands through my hair, mussing the strands into a chaotic mess.

“You’re making it worse.” He laughed and batted my hands away. “Let me.”

His nimble fingers slipped through my hair, and I almost trembled from the affectionate, easy touch. He slid his hands through my strands for longer than he should have, but I did nothing to stop him. I’d let him touch me forever.

“There, that’s better.” He withdrew, and I instantly missed his touch.

“You just gave me sex hair, didn’t you?” I said in an attempt to dispel the anxious energy buzzing through me.

Smothering his laugh in his arm, he shook his head. “Not intentionally.”

And because I was stupidly head-over-heels for him, I couldn’t stop the flirtatious, “Pity,” from slipping out of my mouth.

Ben’s poised pencil froze, hovering over the study guide as his Adam’s apple leapt. He looked at me, ocean-blue eyes flaring. I wet my lips, and his gaze tracked the motion. The buzzing in my veins leaked into the air between us, and I swore he leaned in, like he wanted a taste.

Our desks vibrated as a text lit up my phone screen, jarring us from the intense moment, and we both blinked. The expectant atmosphere shattered as I snatched my phone from the desk to stop the loud vibration from gaining the teacher’s attention.

I checked the text.

Kim: Still on for sledding?

Silas: Yeah, I’ll meet you there after work.

Kim: Ben coming?

Blacking out my screen, I turned back to Ben who was calmly filling out the study guide like he hadn’t seconds ago been staring at my mouth like a starving man.

“You’re coming sledding, right?”

Enthusiasm brightened his face. “Hell yes. You’ll be there too, right?”

I nodded. “I work till one, so I’ll have to meet you there. But yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Awesome.” His leg bounced with excitement, and I bit back a chuckle at his innocent anticipation.

Sledding was a normal activity here in Indiana at wintertime, so I couldn’t fully grasp the appeal it held for him. But since he grew up in California where snow was limited, I could kind of understand. Winter fun wasn’t normal for him.

I texted Kim back, letting her know Ben would be there tomorrow too before focusing on the study guide Ben was filling out. His leg continued its happy dance beside mine, and I nearly sighed like a loser. He was too cute.

As Ben answered the questions in the packet, I leaned into his shoulder under the guise of offering input. There was no logical reason for me to sit this close to him, but he didn’t complain or push me away. If anything, he pressed back into me, head angling in my direction.

My hand lay on the desk, millimeters from his. Every few minutes he shifted, his knuckles skimming mine. Once, twice, three times.

Utilizing bravery I didn’t know I had, I stretched out my pinkie and teased his. I fully expected him to pull away, maybe even send me a confused or uncomfortable look. But he didn’t.

His pinkie curled around mine until they hooked together snugly. My blood erupted with flames beneath my skin as a shy smile quirked the edges of his mouth. He didn’t look my way, his attention on the study guide, but I could practically feel the satisfaction radiating from him.

Neither of us spoke or drew attention to the affectionate touch. We worked on our study guide in relative silence as our shaking fingers held fast.

Was I the one trembling or was it him? Did it even matter anymore?

Seconds before the bell rang, Ben’s ocean eyes met my slate ones, the waves crashing wildly, and my heart fluttered. This boy was going to be the death of me, and from the smug grin spreading over his face, he fucking knew it.