10. Ben
BEN
Oh shit, is she about to cry?
I was trying to make her feel better.
Was her date bad?
What the fuck did he do to her?
Anger spikes sharp and fast. It’s an effort to hide it, but for her sake, I grit my teeth and get up from my seat, moving around to sit beside her.
That might not be the reason she’s upset. Maybe he was perfect but hasn’t asked her out for a second date yet. I can’t go making judgments until I get more facts.
And having grown up around three sisters, I know the best way to do this is through gentle movements, a soft voice, and a whole lot of quiet listening.
“Hey,” I whisper, scrambling for a paper napkin. I flick it open and hand it to her.
“Thanks.” Her voice is only just above a whisper, and I’m not sure if she wants me to touch her or not.
But it seems wrong to deny her just a little comfort, so I rest my hand lightly on her shoulder. “Is this okay?”
Blowing her nose, she nods, but I’m not sure I believe her, so I rest my forearms on the table and thread my fingers together instead, lightly pressing my elbow into her arm.
“I don’t know if you want to talk about it or not, but if it’d be helpful, I’m a great listener.
You can tell me anything, and I won’t breathe a word to anybody.
I know you don’t know me very well, but you can trust me.
” I let out a soft sigh and am prepared to wait it out.
Renee, my middle sister, is the master of the long game, but thankfully Jolie starts talking within seconds.
“My date on Friday was horrible.”
Clenching my jaw, I nod and try to keep my voice smooth and even. “What happened?”
She sniffs. “He took me out for dinner, and it was really lovely. He was being so nice, and when he invited me back so I could see his place, of course I said yes. I didn’t even think about it.”
A cold, icy chill sweeps through my stomach, and I swivel in my seat so I can face her. “What did he do?” My voice is low and rough.
Her expression crumples. “It wasn’t like that. He didn’t…” She shakes her head, swallowing down the rest of her words.
“He obviously did something. Was it consensual?” It’s hard not to growl those words, especially when she’s sitting here looking so wrecked and vulnerable.
This innocent little freshman got burned on Friday night, and it’s making me see red.
She squeezes her eyes shut and mutters, “Yes. But I… I’d never done it before.” Her voice breaks. She has to clear her throat to keep going, and my insides quiver in annoyance.
That little fucker. He wasn’t gentle. He didn’t take his time. He traumatized her. Look at her face!
I’m about to ask who this guy is. Maybe I can pay him a “friendly” visit and tell him to stay the fuck away from her.
But she starts talking before I can. “I didn’t tell him I was a virgin because I…” She shakes her head again, looking kind of lost before quickly pulling herself together.
Her spine pings straight and she wipes her nose before dabbing her cheeks with that sodden napkin.
I reach for a new one, flicking it out. She takes it, bunching it in her hand and stating very matter-of-factly, “The point is, I never ever want to do it again.”
Pausing for a second, I watch her carefully, trying to decide if she’s saying what I think she’s saying, and then trying to decide if she means it.
After a beat of uncertainty, I double-check. “You mean… with him? You never want to do it again with him.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I never want to do it again ever. With anyone.”
“What?” I can’t help balking.
She tuts and turns to scowl at me. Her gray eyes are kind of dark now, her pale eyebrows dipping together. “Why does everyone make such a big deal about sex anyway? It sucks!”
I can’t help a dubious frown. I’m gonna have to disagree with her on that one.
“It does.” Her voice pitches. “It’s painful and embarrassing and messy.
” Her eyes snap shut, her voice rising to the point that I’m glad we’re the only two people in here today.
“And I have no idea why people always rave about it. I am never having sex again ever. It was the most awful three of minutes of my life.”
“Three minutes?” I scoff. “Really? Just three?”
“I wasn’t timing it,” she snaps.
And now I’m trying not to notice that her dimples show up in a different way when she bites her lips together like this.
I study them for a second and have to reassure myself that I’m getting this right. Again, working to keep my voice calm and even, I gently ask, “He didn’t force himself on you, did he?”
“No,” she whines, then flicks her hand through the air like she almost wishes he had—because that would take some of the responsibility away from her, maybe?
That’s fucked up, but maybe I get it.
“He asked if what he was doing was okay, and I said yes.” She spits out each syllable before resting her elbows on the table and covering her face.
Her words are kind of muffled as she admits, “Maybe I didn’t realize it was going to go that far, but it’s not like I said anything when he put the condom on.
I had plenty of chances, but then once he started, I couldn’t tell him to stop.
I was embarrassed and didn’t really know what to do, so I just lay there.
I even smiled when he checked my face, so he probably thought everything was fine. ”
“He would have felt your tension.” My voice is dry.
Surely he would have. I mean, I’ve never had sex with a girl who wasn’t into it.
At least I don’t think I have. I’m lucky to say that so far, with every sexual encounter I’ve had, both parties have genuinely come.
I’m sure none of the girls I’ve been with were faking it.
But this douche nugget, surely he would have been aware of how she was feeling, what she was going through.
Especially if she was just lying there. She was probably stiff and scared and…
that little shit was so caught up in what he was doing that he was completely unaware of the girl he was fucking inside!
I can’t help a soft growl. “He should have prepared you better. The least he could have done was made you come before entering you. I’m guessing he didn’t. You were probably tense and not lubricated enough.”
Her hands drop away from her face, and she turns to give me a wide-eyed look. “What do you mean, prepared me?” She looks so mystified. I can’t believe she doesn’t know this stuff already.
“You know… given you an orgasm. Made sure you were wet and ready.”
Her expression scrunches even more, like she doesn’t understand what I’m saying and is maybe a little grossed out by how candid I’m being.
I brush my hand across my mouth before asking, “Uh… you’ve had an orgasm before, right? Like… even when you’re just touching yourself? Things like that help make the whole experience more pleasurable for you. It relaxes your body and…”
Now her lips are parting, her entire face flushing red, and I’m wondering if she’s ever had an orgasm in her life.
Shit, who is this girl?
And why am I still sitting here diving into this conversation?
Bail, man. Bail now!
But I can’t.
I can’t get up and walk away from those big, vulnerable eyes. They’re getting all glassy again and…
Shit. I can’t leave her like this.