13. Lisa #2
“If we’re going to do it, we’re going to do it right. Are you free to go to the gym right now? That way we have the right backdrop, and you can tell me all the right things to say?”
“That’s… not a bad plan.” I kind of hate that I didn’t think of that first.
“Sometimes, I have good ideas.” There it is again, the sound of his amused smile, shining through his words. “Are you free to head there now?”
I glance down at Winny, still dancing on the end of his leash. “Yeah, let me take Winny out quickly. And I need to grab something to eat.”
“We can swing through somewhere on the way there,” he offers.
I hesitate for a moment as I consider arguing, then sigh. “Fine. But you have to drive.” I pause. “And I get to choose the place.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re on the way to Punchline, cheeseburgers and milkshakes in tow.
The second we got into his car, Benji joked about his bad taste in music, and he didn’t so much as bat an eye at my food request. Instead, he leaned into a ridiculous fast food order.
He even looks as relaxed as he acts, wearing a black beanie, a blue Leopards shirt with a black puffy coat over the top, and gray sweatpants that he’s tucked into boots.
I find myself sinking into his car’s heated seats, lulled by his contagious mood and the smell of greasy fast food. “I didn’t think you were allowed to have any of this,” I say, shaking a fry at him.
He grins at me from around his straw, the other end attached to an excessively large strawberry-banana-chocolate milkshake.
“It’s all about balance. I can eat whatever I want, as long as I keep performing well.
I’m an adult, after all.” He wraps his lips around the straw and slurps from it, loudly, to underscore his point.
It’s supposed to be obnoxious, but I find my eyes drawn to his full mouth.
I bring my own milkshake to my mouth and glance away to reorganize my thoughts. Who knew a man sucking on a dairy beverage could be considered attractive? I didn’t, until this very moment.
“Are you really an adult, though? I seem to remember a temper tantrum in the middle of a
coffee shop,” I tease, and watch as he chokes on his next sip of milkshake before laughing.
He pulls up to a stoplight and eyes me for a long moment. “I like seeing this side of you.”
I freeze. “Which side?”
“This… relaxed, joking side.” He motions at me.
“The side that calls me by my nickname, offers up shitty jokes, and feels confident enough to kick her feet up on my dash. Even if they leave it covered in filth.” He gives a pointed look at my shoes, which are covered in a slushy mixture of dirt and snow. I shoot him a guilty smile.
“Sorry,” I say quickly, tucking my feet back down.
“No need to apologize,” he replies, and I’m momentarily jarred by how easily the response slips past his lips. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard someone counter an apology by deeming it unnecessary. “I’m just concerned about the fact that you’re still wearing high tops in the middle of winter.”
I snort. “I’ll use my next paycheck to buy some.”
“Don’t you have enough money for boots, Miss Penthouse?” He eyes me curiously, and I stiffen.
Instead of answering, I motion to a parking lot, then cross my arms tightly against myself. “You can park there.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t push the question. His eyes flick back to the road, and he twists the wheel silently, pulling into a parking spot. He puts the car in park before looking at me once more. “Ready?” he asks.
I smile and nod, leading him into the gym, but as I shrug open the door and motion him inside, a wave of self-consciousness suddenly hits me.
Punchline is nothing like the gym at our luxury apartment building, and I’m certain it’s a far cry from wherever he works out with his team off the ice.
I’m glad for a moment that our timing has hit the late lunch hour, when Paul usually slips out to run errands and there are no classes in session.
If Benji has something rude to say, at least I’ll be the only one who has to hear it.
The gym is a large space, and it’s got fresh paint, making it more vibrant, but the mats are still worn, some of the equipment is rusted, and half the punching bags have duct tape wound across them.
Photos litter the space, taped simply against the wall, representing countless stories about Paul and Bella over the years, as well as some of the regular Punchline members.
I watch carefully as Benji takes it in, walking along the wall, fingers brushing lightly against the photos.
He stops at one of the new ones, one I hadn’t even seen yet.
I step closer and peer over his shoulder.
It’s a photo of Andi and me, paint rollers in hand, heads thrown back as we laugh at something one of us must have said.
I hadn’t even realized Paul had taken the photo.
Normally I’d be nervous about having my photo taken, but I’m surprised to find that this one doesn’t bother me in the slightest.
Benji looks over at me, catching my soft smile. “This place means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” he asks quietly.
I shrug, the wave of self-consciousness rushing back and causing me to flush slightly. “It’s kind of my new home.”
He considers me for a long moment, and my breath catches.
Where the hell did that look come from? He was easier to manage when he was just being shallow and dickish, but this look, in this place…
it’s like he’s stripping me bare, finding all of my most vulnerable pieces.
I can’t help but break eye contact first. “Well then, let’s get recording. ”
As it turns out, because Benjamin freaking Estes has to be annoyingly perfect at, well, everything, he’s a natural behind the camera.
I’m trying to decide what sparkles more – his eyes or his smile – as he beams into the phone screen, walking around the gym before settling against a post of the boxing ring, providing an excellent backdrop.
“What better gift is there than the gift of a healthy start to the new year? So, if you’re interested, join me on the thirtieth for a fun Halloween celebration and a chance to see if Punchline is the right fit for you.
” He grins for a long minute, oozing charisma and seduction, before straightening and clearing his throat. “So, do you think that was good?”
“Uh, yeah.” I swallow, reminding myself that I don’t have to revisit this footage, but then I frown. Andi will be editing and splicing it to post on social media, and then the whole world will be gushing at him. That feels even worse, somehow. My emotions are all mismatched, and I don’t like it.
“Are you feeling all right?”
I glance up to see Benji standing in front of me, and school my expression into one of surprise. “Yeah,” I reply quickly. “Why?”
“You seem a little distracted. It made me curious, how did your date go the other night?”
His words are careful, measured, nonchalant – but almost too much so, as if he’d been waiting all afternoon for a moment to ask this question. I remember Andi’s words from earlier; that Benji went ‘all lost puppy dog’ when Jordie and I showed up.
Realization dawns on me: he’s asking…because he’s jealous. My lips curl up at the kernel of power I feel placed in my palm at this secret information.
“No, no, it was – it was good. Jordie’s a wonderful guy.”
Benji hums, toying with the line of boxing gloves. He tries one on before answering. “He is a great guy.”
“Mhmmm.” I watch him try another pair on, moving to a larger size. He straps a glove on experimentally and looks at me, his warm brown eyes narrowed and quizzical. I tense.
“I was just wondering, because I noticed you didn’t let him kiss you.” He lowers his gaze to grab the other glove and slip it on, as if he didn’t just admit he had been watching us close enough to see my moment of weakness.
My mouth falls open. “Remind me, who accused whom of stalking?”
“I’m just saying.” He shrugs, dismissing my question. “Must not have been that great of a date, if you wouldn’t even let him give you a goodnight kiss.”
“Who’s to say I didn’t let him kiss me after he walked me home?” I put my hands on my hips, feeling a spark of rebellion at the line of questioning. “Or more?”
I didn’t, obviously. I had chickened out.
It had nothing to do with Jordie, and everything to do with me.
I thought I’d been ready to let someone close enough to allow that small piece of intimacy, but I’d been wrong.
I wasn’t ready to concede that much vulnerability to someone – even to someone as kind as Jordie clearly is.
I’m not ready to admit that to someone else, though.
Especially not someone like Benji. And I have to admit, the way his eyes flash at the prospect of me making out with his teammate fans the embers of recklessness inside me, warming me to my toes.
A prickle of jealousy, no matter how unwarranted, looks good on this man.
“If you did, he didn’t say anything,” Benji ventures, attempting to call my bluff.
But I won’t concede. I’m in control, steering the conversation. “Maybe he’s a gentleman, and doesn’t kiss and tell.” I bat my eyes at him innocently, and his own narrow in response.
“But you’re not a lady, so I get the feeling you’d brag.”
“Fine. Want me to brag?” I bite back a rebellious grin, enjoying where this game is headed.
“I don’t know why I questioned it, the first time he tried.
He was such a good kisser. Just what I needed.
He went in for that sweet goodbye. Soft lips, gentle touch, just enough tongue… ” I fan myself in emphasis.
Benji chuckles and straightens, putting away the gloves and taking a few steps towards me. He moves slowly, his eyes glued on mine the entire time. My pulse instantly quickens, but I stand my ground, until he’s standing over me, eyes scanning mine as if in question.
Finally, he lowers his head until his lips are practically pressed against my ear. I feel his warm breath fan against me when he speaks, and suppress a shiver, but don’t give him the satisfaction of moving away. I know he’s just taunting me.
“Sounds like a fun way to pass the time,” he says, voice low. “If you’re looking to fall asleep.”
I blink. “What?”
“Come on. What you just described was a snooze fest, and I knew the second you said he went in for the kiss that it was a lie. You can’t convince me that’s what you did, let alone that it’s what you needed.”
I turn my head abruptly, brushing noses with him as I meet his gaze to glare at him. To my surprise, he’s the one who pulls back slightly. “And what is it that I need?” I ask. “Enlighten me.”
“You need someone that you don’t have to question at all.
You need someone you desire so much it pushes back on every fear you’ve ever had.
You need to feel something, something far better than good.
Something – or someone – that drives you crazy enough that you take full control.
Take and take, until you’re senseless with the pleasure of it all. ”
His eyes lower to my mouth as he speaks, and I realize with a start that my lips have parted as I listen to his words.
I tear my eyes away from his own mouth and try to tamp down the ache that has settled low in my stomach, burning and reminding me that I can, in fact, still desire pleasure like that.
I want to run away from the feeling. It’s too much.
Somehow, I manage a response. “Sounds like something I can handle all by myself, thanks.” I smirk, but I’m not sure it’s believable. “I told you to try it sometime. Seems like you still haven’t learned.”
“Oh, I’ve learned a lot, don’t you worry about that. Seems like you’re the one fixated on that image.” He grins mischievously. “What is it you think I do? Call out your name as I pleasure myself?”
“Ugh!” I exclaim, even as I flush at his bold words. I shove him back, creating space between us, though I’m not sure if it’s from disgust or to clear my own muddled head. “I should have hit you harder the first time.”
Benji cocks a brow and gives me a slow smile. “Could you have?”
“Absolutely,” I scoff.
He crosses his arms and regards me like the problem I am. Finally, he jerks his head at the boxing ring. “Prove it, little fighter.”