Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
Gretchen
He’s so close.
He’s so close and all I want to do is reach my hand over and take his, but this isn’t a real date. This is him trying to teach me, and I need to remember that.
It’s not like he likes me. He feels bad.
I’m so stupid.
I can’t believe I let myself start to wish otherwise. When I was getting ready today, I kept wondering if he’d think I was pretty or if he liked my hair up or down. I fussed over everything.
My nerves are shot and my muscles are tight. I’m crazy because this is Ben. The boy who used to eat dinner at my house every week because my mother likes him more than me. He’s the kid who watched movies in my bedroom and made fun of me the entire time.
He makes a yawning noise, lifting his arms over his head and then around my shoulders.
I let out a giggle and lean close, my voice is a whisper. “Smooth.”
His lips brush my ear. “Wooing. I’m wooing you.”
I bite my lower lip to stop myself from laughing. “It’s working.”
“Good.”
If this is how dates are supposed to be, I’ve been missing out. He’s so sweet by opening doors, helping me out of the car, paying for the movie and snacks. I lift the arm rest between us, tucking my leg up and nestling into his chest.
His body locks and then releases a second later. I don’t look up at him, instead I force myself to focus on the crappy movie playing. My pulse spikes when a few minutes later, his fingers begin to idly play with my hair. Almost as if he doesn’t know it’s happening.
This was our thing as kids.
We’d watch movies and snuggle.
Now we’re adults. I’m ridiculously attracted to him, and this has danger written all over it.
The movie ends and I realize I missed the entire ending. I laid on his chest, with my eyes closed, enjoying the way his hands felt on me.
Pull it together, Gretchen.
“Did you like it?” Ben asks as we walk out.
“Sure.”
He laughs. “I knew you weren’t even watching!”
Shit. Now I’m busted. “It was stupid!”
“God you’re still the same in so many ways. You never watched the movies when we were kids and you would pretend.”
I definitely did that. I was comfortable then and apparently now.
“Whatever. You’re the same too.”
“How?”
I hook my arm in his as we walk. “You’re still very sweet. You play with my hair. You still have no issue telling me what you think.”
Ben snorts. “You still don’t listen then and you’re nuts if you think I’m sweet.”
“Nope. You’re wrong. You’re very sweet.”
“Doubtful.”
“I know sweet Benjamin Pryce and you are a big teddy bear with a heart of gold. Now, how am I the same?”
“You still argue.” Ben nudges me.
“Ha!” I laugh and then shrug. “That’s an occupational hazard. I argue for a living.”
Ben takes my hand in his. It’s so innocent and sweet, and I pull it out.
“Sorry,” he says with a hint of sadness.
What the hell is wrong with me? I’m so ridiculous. “No, I am. I’m sorry,” I say, stopping in front of him.
“You don’t have?—”
“I do! Please, let me explain.” I know this is going to go over like a ton of bricks but there’s a reason I’m such a mess. “I told you how Harold and I had to spend our entire relationship in secrecy. Well, that was the same with touching. I could never hold his hand if we were walking like this. Just in case. Just in case someone from the firm or a client saw us. It was just reflex and I’m sorry.”
Ben steps forward, his hand cups my cheek and my instinct is to move, but his other hand comes up, trapping me between his strong grasp. “You don’t owe me an explanation, but I will say that I can’t begin to understand how he could stop himself from touching you. I know you miss him and wish you were with him, but God, I don’t understand it. I don’t know how the man could keep any distance from you.”
“There’s something wrong with me,” I confess. “That’s the thing. It’s clearly me.”
Through this entire night there was something bothering me. Through dinner and then the movie I never once missed Harold. I wasn’t wishing it was him instead of Ben. I didn’t think about Harold other than to think how stupid he was.
“No, there’s nothing wrong with you.”
My hands wrap around his wrists, but he doesn’t pull his hands down. “I just mean that I don’t miss him. I was engaged to him, and I don’t miss him. I haven’t thought about him. I haven’t wondered what he’s doing or thought about how he must feel. Because I don’t care. It’s crazy. I mean, there has to be something wrong with me because no one doesn’t miss someone they were going to marry a few weeks ago, right?”
Ben’s eyes are filled with so much emotion. “There is nothing wrong with you, Gretchen. Nothing.”
I shake my head and a tear falls. “I was going to marry a man I didn’t love. I would’ve stood at that altar and said I do. All for what? To follow my plan? To fulfill some stupid idea I had about life? I would’ve done it. I would’ve spent the rest of my life with him, had those kids, lived that lie.”
I look at him to give me the answer telling me I’m crazy. It would at least explain what’s wrong with me. How could I not think about Harold? How is it that Ben is what consumes my thoughts at night?
There’s something about him holding me that made me feel secure, which I haven’t felt in a long time. Deep inside, I know that Ben will protect me, my heart, my feelings. Hell, he’s doing it now. He isn’t running and hiding for fear that someone might see us. No, he’s taking me in his arms—in public.
His hands are out for me to hold, not making me a secret.
And then there’s how my body reacts to him—which is a whole other problem. He’s...Ben. He’s the sweet guy who carried my books. The one who always made sure I didn’t sit alone at lunch. He’s always taken care of me, and he’s doing it again.
Ben’s voice is low and cautious, but underneath I hear something else that I can’t name. “Thank God you didn’t.”
My heart races at the inflection in his voice. I want to ask him why he feels that way or said it at all, but instead, Ben wipes the tear from my cheek and takes a step back. “Now, no more talk about what’s wrong with you. We have part two of the date. Okay?”
He puts his hand out, allowing me to take it this time. I nod, untrusting of my voice at this point, and put my palm in his. Knowing he might have just taken a part of my heart back again.
* * *
The second part of the date is probably my favorite. Okay, it definitely is. Ben took me to the boardwalk. It’s not like what I’m used to in New Jersey, but it reminds me a bit of home.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I say as we walk with his arm around my shoulder.
“Yes I did. You’re a Jersey girl and I know all too well what we grew up doing.”
“You left before all of that,” I remind him.
“I still spent my summers at the shore, eating cheesesteaks at Midway and riding rollercoasters. And if I remember correctly, you and I spent time there too.”
I smile as the younger version of us comes to mind. We were in eighth grade, right before he left, and my mom drove us down to Seaside Heights. There was something so simple about my generation when it came to living. We didn’t have this insane fear that we would be taken or lost. We could go down that shore, walk the boardwalk as long as we were back before the lights were on or we checked in. I didn’t have a cellphone and there were no tracking devices, but there was trust.
Ben and I were allowed to walk the boardwalk with our ten dollars, spending it on ice cream and the arcade.
“It was one of my favorite memories with you,” I tell him.
“It was because of my impeccable kissing skills.”
I laugh and playfully smack his stomach. “Please. You sucked. You were all tongue and braces.”
Ben snorts. “You were no better.”
“I was too.”
“Nope. You were definitely one of my worst kissing partners.”
I scoff and stop walking. “Is that so?”
“Sorry, babe, I just speak the truth.”
“I’ll have you know I’m a fantastic kisser.”
“Doubtful. No one could improve that much,” Ben tosses back with mirth in his tone.
I know for a fact I’m a good kisser. No one has ever complained before and the guys I was with always wanted more.
I’m taking that as a testament to my skill. I also know I’m walking into a trap, but the truth is, it’s one I want to walk into.
I want to kiss him.
I want to feel his lips on mine as a grown woman.
There’s not a doubt in my mind that he wants it as well.
“I’ll prove it.” I throw down the first gauntlet.
“No.”
My stomach drops. Oh, God, I’ve been reading it all wrong. He really was just being nice and trying to show me a real date. He doesn’t like me that way and I was so stupid just now. Damn it.
“Right,” I say with wounded pride. I start to turn, but he grabs my arm, stopping me.
“No, you don’t need to prove it.” Ben takes one step, his hands returning to my face. He cups my cheeks, tilting my head to the side. “I’m going to kiss you. Right. Now.”
And then he does.
But it’s nothing like our first kiss. It’s not fumbling, unsure, or soft. This kiss is powerful and full of passion. Benjamin Pryce kisses like he owns the world. My lips are molded to his and my hands grip his elbows. The heat from his touch is felt down in my toes.
I have never in my entire life been kissed like this.
When his fingers slide back into my hair I gasp, and he uses that opportunity to slide his tongue in. At the first feel of it against mine, I lose it.
He controls the tempo, moving swiftly and then slower, making me crazy in the middle of the boardwalk. People move around us, but I don’t give a flying fuck. All I want is to drown in this man’s warmth.
“You’re so beautiful,” he tells me and then his mouth is on mine again.
I move my fingers to his solid chest, feeling the muscles pulse underneath my touch.
God, he’s so good at this.
I melt, my body molding to his in one of those movie type kisses.
He pulls back, giving me two chaste kisses and I stand here, eyes closed, savoring the best kiss of my life.
After another heartbeat, I open them, finding his deep brown ones looking down at me. Ben’s lips turn to a sly grin. “So, do I still suck at kissing?”
“No. Definitely not.”
He leans back down again, kissing me softly this time. “Neither do you.”