Chapter 16 Ben #2
He gets in and his music starts up again. Another sad girl playlist starring Lana, Phoebe Bridges and Mitski. I smile to myself.
“I didn’t see your siblings at the party last night.”
“They’re coming in today. Sloane had a work thing and one of my sister’s kids was sick—nothing serious.”
His sister’s kid? Not his niece or nephew? Are they all really that estranged? How can someone so warm and kind come from a family so cold and detached?
He drives me through town, pointing out historical landmarks.
One glaring aspect of this tour is missing—childhood stories.
Where is the fence he snagged his pants on at fourteen?
Where is the disco he had his first kiss at?
Where is the bridge he got drunk under with his school friends?
Did he spend a lot of time in Lausanne? Speaking Swiss French he wouldn’t remember with people who weren’t his family?
His leg bounces as he waits for the lights to change. I put my hand on his thigh to calm it.
He looks at me, eyes wide.
“Is this okay?”
He gulps over the dulcet tones of his sad girl music. “Yeah.”
I swallow my smile as I give his thigh a little squeeze. God, I can’t wait to get him alone again.
“Will there be another party tonight? When your siblings get in?”
“Not a party, per se. Just a dinner.”
I look at my feet in my shabby, off-duty tennis shoes and remember how Ben’s father had looked at us both disapprovingly at the last dinner. The man might be a dick, but I know Ben still cares what he thinks.
“Is there a shopping center … a, what do you call it? A mall around here anywhere?”
“Trumbull’s about twenty-minutes away, why?”
“Does it have a menswear store? I need to buy a pair of dress shoes.”
He blushes. “If this is because you think you have to dress for dinner, then don’t—”
“It’s not just that. I need a good pair of shoes anyway.”
He studies me in the mirror with skepticism.
“New Jersey is notoriously free of all clothing stores.”
I’m not sure my form of sarcasm is translating until he smiles.
“Sure, we can swing by. The mall could be fun.”
I beam inside. I can’t wait to tell my sister I went to a real-life American shopping mall.
When he pulls up into a half-full car park, I look up at the large white building and my heart sinks. “This is a Westfield.”
“Yeah, so?”
“They have these everywhere.”
“Um … sorry? What were you expecting?”
“Something more … American?”
He laughs, his dashboard beeping when he unbuckles his seatbelt. “I didn’t realize people actually liked American things. Thought we were too loud and gaudy for you refined Europeans.”
I scoff. “One—you’ve obviously never been to an Irish pub, and two—you are definitely not loud and gaudy.”
There’s that shy smile again. I push down the butterflies having a vicious fight in my stomach.
“It may be boring, but it’s what we have to work with.”
I follow Ben across the car park, my disappointment disappearing as I watch him.
“I bet you don’t have Build-A-Bear workshops in Germany,” he says.
I frown. “I think we probably do in Berlin, and we have Steiff—that’s ten times better.”
He snorts. “Okay, you definitely don’t have Five Guys.”
I roll my eyes. “Everyone has Five Guys. Next you’ll be telling me we don’t have McDonald’s.”
“Wait! They have McDonald’s outside the US?”
I chuckle so heartily at his joke that I snort.
It’s nice seeing Ben so relaxed. Away from the stuffy confines of his family home and—no matter how much he says he loves it—an Ivy League college, he is a different person. Carefree, funny, incredibly hot.
He smiles at me, eyes sparkling, before shyly dropping his head and looking away again.
I get a sudden impulse to take his hand but stop myself at the last second.
This is his home-town, as huge as it may be.
Someone might see him at—what may be—the only shopping mall in town.
The last thing I want to do is out him to his family before he’s ready or make anything harder than it already is for him here.
There are some stores we don’t have in Germany, but they’re not very exciting. Ben grins as we pass the Build-A-Bear Workshop and I almost drag him in and buy him a stuffed bear.
The food court would smell amazing if I didn’t still think I was going to pop from that breakfast.
“Hey, bet you guys don’t have Dunkin’ Donuts,” Ben says.
I roll my eyes. “Yes, we have Dunkin’.”
He whines like a moody teenager. “You guys steal everything.”
“Behave or I won’t build you a bear.”
He grins. “Where do you want to go for shoes?”
“I want nice ones.”
“They don’t have to be—”
“Don’t worry, I’m not buying them just for your fancy dinner.”
He nods. “Okay. You can get a decent pair at Target if you’re not planning on wearing them a lot.” An expression of triumph flashes across his face. “Hey, do you guys have Target?”
“No, actually, we don’t have that. We have Kaufland.”
“Kaufland.” Ben says, making a huge meal out of such a tiny word. “Hey, I got one.”
“Yes, congratulations, one-nil to the US for Target.”
He holds his hand up for a high-five. Dork. I slap it.
After a slightly stressful hunt through Target; a crowded clothing/everything in the world store, I find a pair of cheap dress shoes that will do for now at least.
I’m sure Ben’s father will be able to tell the difference between real Italian craftsmanship and Target specials.
But the main reason I wanted to buy them was so Ben will stop wearing his tennis shoes to dinner in solidarity.
I’m sure his Italian loafers will be back on his feet tonight, reaching his father’s lofty expectations.
When we get back to the house, his mother is up and looking spritely for someone who partied all night.
“You guys were up bright and early,” she says.
Ben blushes. “Elias wanted to go to the mall.”
She glances at the Target bag in my hand. “Get anything nice?”
“Just underwear.” I don’t want her knowing the shoes I wear tonight are from Target.
“Oh.”
Ben gives me a look like, why did you just tell my mom you bought underwear?
“Everyone needs underwear,” I say with a grin, looking pointedly at Ben. His blush deepens.
“That’s true. I love the Victoria’s Secret at the mall.”
“Mom.”
“What? Moms wear underwear, too. Isn’t that right, Elias?”
“Right.”
“Let’s go and … do something else.” Ben says, dragging me out of the kitchen by the hand. He shoves me into the guest room and closes the door behind us. “Sorry about her.”
“She’s fine. I’m the one who brought up underwear.”
He looks at me, shoulders starting to shake, before bursting out laughing. When he stops, we share a lingering look.
“Do you think we have time for a quickie before dinner?” I ask.
I love the way his eyes widen in terror, a hint of desire seeping through.
“Um—”
“Just kidding,” I say, depositing my shopping bag on the bed before making my way over to him. Close enough to smell his cologne without touching him. “I don’t want it to be quick. I want to take my time with you.”
He gulps. “Oh, God.”
“I swear, next time I’ll make you say fuck.”
A noise outside disturbs us and Ben jumps away from the door.
“What was that?”
“My sister or brother must be here. My mom only squeals like that when she sees them.”