CHAPTER 10
HOLLY
There’s a pool table in the basement.
Jackpot.
Ben and I dominate it for the next hour.
Playing as a team, we methodically take down each and every challenger. Of course, I look ridiculous the whole time, having to bend my knees and squat to get level with the table. If I went the more traditional route of bending at the waist, then all the competitors would get a nice view of my ass. Luckily, it’s okay to look silly as long as you’re winning.
And I always win.
“Eight ball, side pocket.” My words are as steady as my hands, and with just a gentle coaxing, my prediction is made a reality.
“That’s it!” Ben holds up his triumphant hand, to which I give a hearty high five. “So, who are we gonna take down next?”
He glances around the room, and a couple of guys approach the table with intent in their eyes. But two bottles of water mean I have some pressing matters that need attending to.
“Sorry, Ben. I’ve gotta take a bathroom break. You’ll need to find another partner.”
He places his hand on my lower back while handing off his pool cue to a curvy girl, who eyed him every time he bent over the table, like he was the one wearing an outfit on the verge of revealing his tight butt.
Not that I notice things like that.
“Can’t do it. It would be unlucky to break up the dynamic duo.”
I don’t think he means to, but one of his fingers brushes against the exposed skin on my side. The contact tickles but in a good way. A way that makes me want to lean into his hand for more pressure on the spot.
Yeah, time to escape to the bathroom.
“Your choice. So, bathroom?” I point upstairs and raise my eyebrows in question because, from my quick scan, I don’t see one on this lower level.
“Yeah, it’s right by the front door. There’s also one on the top floor.”
I nod, but before I can turn to go, he gives my side a squeeze, like he wants me to look back at him. Helpless to give up the offer, I do as he directed.
Ben holds out his wrist to show the time on his simple silver-and-leather watch. “We should probably head out when you’re done, right?”
It’s just after nine. There’s an uncomfortable pressure in my chest, reflective of the feeling in my bladder.
This has been so fun, bantering with Ben, throwing out insults to the other players, discussing shots. Now, the night is over, and I’m going to have to deal with drunken dancers for the next four hours.
Tips. Just think about the tips.
If the eyeballing I’ve been getting at this party is a good indication, I should expect my most lucrative shift. It’ll be interesting to be treated like Terra for a night. I’ll just focus on that new experience, and hopefully, it’ll help me get past this disappointment.
Still, just because my fun is over doesn’t mean that Ben’s needs to be.
“You don’t have to leave, Ben. I’ve still got time to catch a bus.”
He rolls his eyes and walks with me to the stairs. “Yeah, right. I invited you here. I’m not about to abandon you to find your own way to work.” He leans in close, lips almost brushing my ear. “Besides, now that Jasper’s left, you’re the only one in this house I actually like.”
I pull back before I give in to the urge to turn my head to the side to kiss him. Instead, I give his rough cheek a pat. “Well, of course. That’s because I’m the only decent pool player here.”
We grin at each other, and then he shocks me by grabbing the hand I’ve left resting on his face and giving the meaty part of my palm a gentle bite.
My mouth is hanging open, I’m sure of it, but I can’t seem to regain motor control of my face. Still grinning, he shakes his head and manually turns me back toward the stairs, giving me a guiding push.
“Didn’t you need to pee, Miss Foster?”
I can’t respond, so I just order my legs to move. Fortunately, they obey.
Ben is right behind me. I can practically bathe in his body heat.
Halfway up the stairs, he makes some inarticulate noise, almost like a groan. I pause and glance back to see if he hurt himself, but no. He’s just a few steps below me, one hand threaded in his rusty hair, the other resting on the waist of his pants, and his eyes are looking anywhere but at me. Not finding the source of whatever made him grunt, I shrug and continue on my way.
Unfortunately, there’s a line three people deep at the main floor’s bathroom. While we were downstairs in our own little world of pool, the party up here doubled in size.
“I’m going to check the bathroom upstairs. You find wherever Jasper hid my coat.”
“Aye, aye, captain.” Ben gives me a salute and a smirk, and I stick my tongue out at him before sprinting up the stairs.
I really didn’t want to use this bathroom. There’s no valid reason why other than it’s on the floor where Ben disappeared to with Annabelle earlier.
I mean, what do I expect to find? Her sprawled, naked, on a bed, fully satisfied from a bout of makeup sex? Even if they did the deed, she wouldn’t still be recovering over an hour later.
Unless he’s that good. And, if my hormonal reaction to his mere presence is any indication, he might be. I wonder if Ben would need as much instruction as Roderick did or if he could get me off on his own.
Nope. Stop it. Right now.
I can hear the beep, beep, beep of a Mack truck backing up as I retreat from my inappropriately naughty thoughts.
Upstairs is almost eerily quiet after the mass of voices on the first floor. The hallway is only lit by a night-light plugged into one of the outlets. I’m assuming the occupants of the house don’t want their rooms messed up during the festivities because all the doors are closed. Problem is, now, I can’t tell which one leads to the bathroom.
Luckily, I hear a flush at the end of the hall. I walk toward the sound, noticing all the artwork hanging on the walls on my way. That’s slightly comforting—to know that there’s actually artwork up here, and it’s not all in Annabelle’s bedroom. Maybe Ben did just come up here to comment on her paintings.
In the dim lighting, I can’t really see them clearly, but even if I could, I’m no aficionado. I can say what I do or do not like, but that’s about it. Ben’s tattoos, for example. Those I like. A lot.
Before my mind can travel down that off-limits road again, the bathroom door swings open. And, of course, the occupant is none other than Annabelle herself.
Have I mentioned that I have fantastic luck?
“Oh”—her voice is lower now and slightly slurred—“it’s you.”
I notice the vodka clutched in her left hand. Not a cup. A bottle.
“Yeah. Just need to use the bathroom. There’s a long wait downstairs.” I don’t like awkward situations. Who does? But I also don’t tend to cower from them. I just bulldoze my way through till we’re past it.
“By all means, take my toilet. You’ve taken everything else.”
Well, that was uncalled for. And inaccurate.
“If you’re referring to Ben, I haven’t taken him from you. Because he’s not an object to be handed around. Sorry if you’re upset. He’s a great guy, and it not working out probably sucks. But blaming me is silly. I didn’t even know him when you two ended things.” The speech spills out in a frantic rush because I’m getting awfully close to performing the pee-pee dance just so I don’t wet myself.
But you can’t reason with drunk girls.
“Why not me?” She glares to the side and talks like I can’t hear her. “What did I do wrong? Is that what he wants? Should I dress all slutty?” Her fingers flick at my outfit, and I clutch my arms around my middle.
“I don’t think—”
She talks over me, “We were perfect. The two of us.” Her eyes grow wet, and I’m at a loss for what to do. “Have you two fucked? We used to, all the time. All over this house.”
“Ugh! Stop!” I don’t want to hear this. I take her by the shoulders and move her out of my way, so I can shut the bathroom door on her too-descriptive words. Still, I hear her moan through the door.
“Do I need to give him a kidney? Will he give a shit about me then? Is that how you got him?” Apparently, vodka destroyed whatever filter Annabelle might have had.
I want to sprint out of the house, but instead, I have to shimmy my underwear down to my ankles and take a moment on the toilet. I hide my face in my hands as I sit there, hoping to somehow erase the idea of Ben having sex with Annabelle all over this house. Probably in this bathroom.
After flushing and washing my hands, I prepare to power-walk with my ears covered. But the hall is empty when I leave the relative safety of the bathroom. It’s creepy again, the air up here still, while I can hear the voices and energy muffled downstairs. I jog the length of the hall, half-expecting Annabelle to pop out of one of the bedrooms, brandishing nude photos of her straddling Ben.
When I get to the foot of the stairs, I’m once again surrounded by light and people, which help push away some of the discomfort of the confrontation. But not all of it.
“Ready to go?” Ben stands up from the couch armrest he was perched on and offers my coat.
While he holds it in place, I slip my arms into the familiar sleeves and welcome my layer of armor settling around me. I’m not so exposed anymore. Still, Annabelle’s words are splinters, burrowing under my skin. I have trouble looking at Ben without imagining what she said.
And not just the sex part.
We walk out into a night chillier than when we arrived. Even more of an excuse for me to huddle into myself.
“Is that how you got him?”
There are some girls who’ve made an art of finding others’ vulnerable spots and then just picking at them.
She practically read my mind, my fears of Ben only being nice to me because of what I could do for him.
Then, there’s the shame of knowing that’s what my intention was when I first decided to spend time with him. Keeping Ben happy means keeping cousin Fred happy, which means Marcus will get his kidney. But, now, I just want to be around Ben because of him.
That doesn’t mean that Ben feels the same.
I flinch when his warm hand grasps mine. He opens my fingers and slides the cool car keys into my palm. Somehow, without me even realizing it, we’re already at his car.
Just a short drive and a long night of work before I can go home and bury myself in my bed.
I can’t get a fix on Holly.
At the beginning of the night, she gave me a look that I would have sworn was a result of naughty thoughts. Then, she went off to dance with Jasper, leaving me alone with my ex. When I realized that situation was partially my doing and I tried to make up for it, she didn’t even touch my offered hand. But then we felt like a team, dominating the pool table, and I got to see her competitive side and earned multiple triumphant laughs. Things seemed better after that, and I was sure she returned some of the heat I felt. Maybe I shouldn’t have bitten her hand, but I hadn’t really thought about it. And I figured she’d slap me if I’d really messed up. But Holly just stared at me with her chocolate-brown eyes open wide and her pale pink lips slack.
I like surprising her.
One of the most conflicting moments of the night was on those stairs. I didn’t want to be a perv, but goddamn, that short skirt swayed on her pert ass right in front of my face as she sauntered her way up each step. I actually had to adjust myself, so I didn’t walk back into the party with a prominent hard-on. So, yeah, I was horny and considering ending the night with a confession of my feelings in hopes that I might actually get to taste those little pink lips.
But that dream got tabled when Holly returned from her short bathroom break. The cocky, slightly flustered woman who’d sent me off to find her coat was replaced by a distant stranger who now won’t look at me for more than a quick glance.
I can’t let the night end with her as that person.
“What happened when you went upstairs, Holly?”
She doesn’t answer me immediately. A sick feeling cuts at my insides. Just because we weren’t at a frat party doesn’t mean there weren’t guys there who liked to take what they wanted without asking.
I’m about to tell her to turn the car around, so I can fucking destroy whoever made her retreat like this when she answers me, “I ran into Annabelle. She was drunk. She said things that made me uncomfortable.”
Anger tightens my chest.
“What did she say?” The words have trouble exiting through my clenched jaw.
Holly sighs, and some of the tension that’s been holding her shoulders around her ears releases. But not all of it. “Just stuff about you two. Intimate things I’d have rather not heard in detail. And she cursed a lot. I don’t like when people curse.”
Thinking back, I can’t remember a time when Holly has ever used profanity. I’ve noticed she mutters ridiculous words one might say in front of a child whenever it seems like an appropriate time to shout out, Shit, or, Fuck.
Good to know.
I wonder if the cursing is all that made Holly uncomfortable. A selfish part of me wants her to be jealous, too. But this agitated state Holly is in isn’t what I want when I discuss my infatuation with her.
Instead, I focus on damage control. “I’m sorry she came at you. She’s pissed at me.”
Holly keeps her eyes on the road but gives a slight nod. “How long did you two date?”
Hell, are we really going to discuss my ex?
I want her in the past and to focus on getting Holly to be my future. But I promised honesty.
“A little over a year.” Watching her profile, I pick out surprise.
“That long? What happened?”
Even though she’s not looking at me, I still lift my shoulders and let them fall. Not because I don’t know, but more because I’d like to shrug off my past stupidity. That time with Annabelle was a mistake, one I was embarrassingly slow to realize.
“I ended things.” I sigh and continue before Holly asks me to because I know she will, “I went to a student gallery showing, and I was saying how much I liked some paintings that turned out to be hers. She overheard me. I loved her art and was flattered when someone as creative as her was interested in me. I think I kind of saw her as an embodiment of that artistic part of life that I loved. But she’s a person with her own flaws, and when we got past the honeymoon stage, I realized she liked me more as a fan of her work than a partner.” A sigh pushes its way out of me, and I reach back to scratch my neck. “Neither of us had really tried to get to know the other person, and when I started, she pushed back. She liked the surface type of relationship we had. But it wasn’t working for me. We didn’t work. But she thought everything was fine between us, so she was surprised when I broke it off at the beginning of the summer.”
I tried to be gentle and explain how I felt, but when she started crying, it was hard to get her to talk to me. She told me to leave, so I did. I didn’t like hurting her, but when it was done, I could finally breathe again.
“Well, she isn’t over you.”
Holly is hard to read at the moment. I want to tell her to pull the car over, so I can look her in the eyes as we talk. But I won’t make her late to work. This isn’t the right time for this conversation. But I need to figure out how to get out of this hole and have her smiling again.
“I said my piece. Now, it’s her job to figure out how to move on. If I’d known she was still so hung up on me, I never would have gone to the party.”
“So, you two didn’t fool around when you went upstairs together?”
“What?” My voice shoots up into shouting range. I try to get it together. “You thought I’d slept with her?”
The car slows to a stop. We’re already in front of the club, and she’s about to leave me. Instead of immediately exiting, Holly puts the car in park and turns to stare at me.
“No, I don’t. At the time, I thought that’s what you were doing but not now.”
The world still seems off-balance, and Holly doesn’t appear settled as she goes to unclip her seat belt. Someone behind us honks.
“Look, I know you have to go. But I feel like you’re mad at me, and I don’t want you to be.” I want her to ache for me the way I do for her.
She’s got a grip on the door handle but pauses. With a shake of her head, she answers, “I’m not mad at you, Ben. We’re good. I’m just …” She hesitates in a very non-Holly way while she brushes her hand down the front of her jacket, which she’s buttoned all the way to her neck.
“You’re just what?” That sick feeling is back in my stomach as I watch her fiddle with the top button of her coat.
“I’m just not excited to go to work after being told I’m dressed like a slut.”
Before I can fully register the meaning of her words, Holly is out of the car.
I practically kick open my door, and I try to catch up with her before she disappears past the hulking bouncer. To get Holly to stop without actually grabbing her, I just jump in front of her, blocking the way.
She stares up at me, befuddled. “What are you doing, Ben? I’m going to be late.”
“You’re beautiful!” It comes out louder than I planned, and the people waiting in line find my display amusing. Chuckles drift from behind my back, but I only have eyes for the woman in front of me. “You’re strong, confident, and sexy as all get-out. Anything you wear looks classy because you elevate it just by being the awesome person you are. She’s jealous. You’re fantastic.” I’m rambling, but it’s working because she’s smiling. “You’re going to run that bar like you always do.” I step forward. Even though I want to sweep her up in my arms and ravage her mouth, I hold back and place a chaste kiss on her forehead instead. “Text me when your shift is over and you get home safe.”
When I go to move back, Holly follows me and wraps her arms around my waist, hugging me tight.
“Thanks for a fun night,” she whispers the words against my chest, and the warmth of her breath brushes through my shirt, accompanied by the heat of her soft body pressed against mine.
Keeping it PG, I just rub her back before she releases me.
With a grin and a wink, she pinches my side and skips to the club’s door, calling over her shoulder, “Text ya later!”
If it wasn’t for the jackass laying on his horn and yelling at me to move my goddamn car, I might have stood there, staring after her. Or even followed her in.