19. Emily
emily
B en and I are back at Billy’s for happy hour.
We’re in the corner of the bar, each with a drink.
We’re mostly people-watching for the time being.
After my epiphany, I texted him and asked if he wanted to go out.
He didn’t respond immediately, which made me question my decisions, but eventually, he texted me back, saying that he was leaving work and he’d see me soon.
It didn’t take me long to get ready, but I dressed in my usual jeans and oversized sweater tonight. I was determined to try out this wingman/wingwoman thing and get each other laid. We needed this to happen so we could both move on from our past… right?
Ben got back to the apartment and greeted me from the hallway. I heard him go to his bedroom and assumed he was freshening up. When he emerged from his bedroom, he was in jeans and another tight-fitting Henley. Did he own anything else in that closet of his?
We were walking to the bar when I broached the topic of being his wingwoman for the night. He said nothing at first. But after a tense minute, he gave a curt nod.
“Sure, roomie. You can be my wingwoman tonight,” he murmured softly.
That’s how we find ourselves with our backs against the wall, standing close together but with about a foot of distance between us. We’ve been watching the crowd for maybe a half hour in silence, both of us sipping on our drinks.
I can’t tell if he is upset or not, but he seems more tense than usual. His jaw flexes after every swallow of his beer, and I tried to ask him if he saw anyone he’d like to take back to the apartment, but he didn’t even respond to me.
I finish my drink and turn to ask him if he wants another beer, but he shakes his head before I finish my sentence.
Shrugging, I walk away from Ben and take a seat at the bar.
The music is loud tonight, and the bartender has been steadily fixing cocktails and serving beer.
He looks to be in his mid-thirties with a stylish coif to his dark blond hair.
He’s wearing his button-up shirt and vest uniform, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
I can tell by the way he moves that he’s athletic.
His brawny muscles flex as he whips up cocktail after cocktail.
He was the same bartender from the first night Ben and I came here, so he recognized us when we walked in.
As he walks over to me, I spy his name tag, which states his name is Scott.
Scott stops in front of me with his arms gripping his side of the bar.
“What can I get ya?” he asks in a friendly tone.
“What do you recommend I try this time?” Scott recommends I try the seasonal Moscow mule on the menu. Since I’m not much of a drinker, and I can’t decide what I want, I’m thankful for his input.
Scott looks me over slowly before giving me a lopsided grin. I know he’s flirting with me, but I know that it’s part of his job. It still feels nice to be on the receiving end of male attention. It’s almost like I perk up at his appraisal.
“How about something different?” he purrs and leans in a little closer to me.
I wiggle in my seat uncomfortably.
“Um, sure, I’ll try anything.”
“Anything, huh?” He winks at me before walking off to make my drink. When he comes back, I sense a presence at my back. I’m about to put cash on the bar top to settle the bill when I see a hand smack a credit card down in front of me. I trail my gaze up the arm, but I already know who it is.
Ben is glowering at Scott with his jaw clenched tightly. I see the muscle flex before he opens his mouth.
“I got her drink. I’ll take another IPA.”
Scott nods at Ben with a knowing smirk before looking down at me and giving me a wink again. I feel Ben tense behind me and sit on the edge of my seat as we wait for Scott to return with Ben’s IPA. Finally, Scott unceremoniously plops the beer in front of me and settles the tab.
I turn to face Ben and am about to slide out of my seat, but since Ben hasn’t moved his arm, I’m caged between him and the bar.
I look up at him and find he’s already looking down at me.
My breath gets stuck in my chest as I take him in at such a close distance.
His hazel eyes are dark as he stares into my eyes.
Our faces are just inches apart, and I see his nostrils flare.
His jaw is still tight as we gaze at each other.
I feel like a gazelle stuck in the gaze of a lion, and I don’t dare move a muscle for fear of him pouncing on me. It’s like the room disappears, and all I can see and sense is Ben.
I’m startled when I hear Scott yell. He must have been trying to get our attention for a bit.
“Here’s your check.”
I take a deep breath and scoot back into my seat so Ben can reach past me to sign the check. His arm brushes me as he hands the check back to Scott, and it sends a thrill through my entire body. I feel my core clench at the slight contact, and my face flushes with embarrassment.
Ben takes a step back, and I make my escape, excusing myself to go to the bathroom.
I lock myself in the bathroom and lean against the door.
My heart is racing, and I’m feeling hot and bothered.
The brief encounter with Ben felt so intense.
Was he mad that Scott was flirting with me?
I mean, Scott flirts with everyone, not just me.
I’ve seen him flash the same lopsided grin and wink to many of his female patrons.
I know that I’m not special to him other than how well I’ll tip him at the end of the night.
Fanning myself, I use the toilet and walk over to the sink to wash my hands. I’m tempted to splash my face with water to cool down, but I doubt my mascara would survive the waterboarding. Instead, I wet some paper towels and place them over my neck and chest to cool down.
Once my heart rate has calmed down and I’ve reapplied another layer of lip gloss, I square my shoulders and take a deep breath. I walk back into the bar, which seems to have gotten more crowded in the short time I was in the restroom. I find Ben by the bar, but he’s not alone.
A beautiful blonde dressed to impress in her tight dress and kiss-me-red lips is talking animatedly with Ben.
I watch as she leans in close to him and whispers something in his ear.
Ben smirks at whatever she says, and he looks over her shoulder to find me standing awkwardly at the edge of the crowd.
It looks like he’s about to get lucky, and even though I feel like my heart dropped out of my butt, I muster up an encouraging smile and a thumbs up.
If I was alone, I could slap myself for making such a stupid gesture.
I don’t want him to think I’m upset with him for talking to another girl.
Besides, that was the whole point of tonight, wasn’t it?
So we could help each other find someone, even if it’s just for the night.
Even if that was the plan going in, I suddenly feel sick to my stomach and just want to go home.
I work my way through the crowd to the front door, and when I step outside, the cold air is a stark reminder that I left my jacket at the bar.
I hope Ben remembers to grab it on his way back with whoever he was talking to at the bar.
I’ve barely made it a block before I hear hurried footsteps behind me.
I look over my shoulder, but before I can make sense of what’s happening, I’m grabbed by my upper arm and pushed up against the building.
Arms braced by my head, I look up to see it’s Ben.
His posture is tense with restraint. I gulp as I stare up into his eyes as they bore down into me.
His pupils are huge and obliterate his beautiful hazel eyes.
He’s breathing through flared nostrils, and I see the muscles in his jaw tick with anger.
“Never leave like that again,” he commands in a low growl.
My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth as I gape at him.
“Do you understand me?”
I nod in answer.
He edges closer, his eyes darting between mine; then, with a frustrated growl, he steps back. Running his hands through his hair, he turns away, hands on hips. He has my coat across his shoulder. He takes it and gestures for me to put it back on.
I’m bewildered as he helps me put my coat on. I’m not sure why he seems so agitated. I’ve never seen this side of him before.
“I’m… I’m sorry…” I stammer, though I’m not sure what I’m apologizing for.
He nods brusquely and gestures for me to lead the way back to our apartment. After a hesitant moment, I take a step and we begin our short trek back. We don’t talk until we’re rounding the block to our apartment.
“You left without me,” he retorts.
“Oh. I thought… I thought you and that girl were…”
“You thought wrong.”
My brows furrow in confusion, and I glance at him. He takes a deep breath and clenches his fists.
“She’s friends with Melissa. She saw me at the bar and wanted to know what happened.”
Oh. Well, I guess I read the situation completely wrong…
“I saw her whispering in your ear, so I thought… you know…”
“She wanted me to bring her back to our apartment.”
“What?”
“I told her no.”
“You told her no?” I question.
He nods in response.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want her.” He says nothing else as we make our way into our apartment. He follows me up the stairs and helps me get my coat off once we’re inside.
I turn to thank him, but the words get stuck in my throat.
I see his hand reach up to curl a strand of my hair around his finger before tucking it gently behind my ear.
I look up at him, and we stand there together.
Taking each other in and breathing the same air.
It always feels like the world stops turning when we’re together like this.
We’re interrupted by the angry yowling of two hungry cats.
We break apart, and I hurry to get the cats their wet food.
They have a constant stream of dry food available all day and night, but I like to give them wet food at least twice a day.
They hate it when I’m late and are being very vocal about their displeasure.
I can’t help but smile at their antics, even if they broke up an intense moment with Ben.
Ben heads into his bedroom, and I sneak into the bathroom to get ready for bed. When I come out, I’m stopped short again by Ben standing just outside the door.
“Jesus!” I exclaim, placing a hand on my heart. “Why do you keep doing that?”
He says nothing but smiles down at me.
“Good night, roomie,” he finally says. It sounds like a rumble when he talks this low. It does crazy things to those damn butterflies in my tummy. I try not to clench my thighs at the sudden ache in my core. Seriously? A simple goodnight turns me on? I need to get laid or find a new vibrator.
“Um, goodnight!” I say in an all too high-pitched voice. Since he won’t give me any space, I dodge him and rush into the safety of my room. I swear I hear him chuckle as I slam the door shut and lean against it.
I change into an oversized sweater and sleep shorts and climb into my bed.
For a minute, I lay there feeling restless and needy.
I slip my hands down my body and into the waistband of my underwear.
Knowing he’s just outside the door, I am too paranoid to find my vibrator in case he can hear through the thin walls, so my fingers will just have to do for now.
To be honest, I’ve been on edge all evening, and I’m already wet.
Feeling a jolt of pleasure travel up to my core, I stifle a moan while rubbing my clit, making me even wetter.
I glide my other hand down and insert it slowly into my core.
I let out a gasp at the intrusion and thrust my finger while still keeping a steady pace, rubbing my clit.
Needing more friction, I add a second finger.
Thoughts of Ben fill my mind as I pleasure myself, and I imagine things ending a little differently tonight.
I remember the feeling of him pushing me up against the building earlier tonight, his arms on either side of my head, keeping me trapped, but this time, he grabs me by the throat and slams his mouth down into mine with a harsh and possessive kiss.
I pretend that he’s so desperate to have me as he unbuttons my jeans, not caring that people could walk by at any moment, and fingers me against the building.
I picture the way I grip his biceps, not in protest but in pleasure, as he plays with my clit with his thumb.
And then, when he breaks the kiss, he looks at me with a devilish glint in his eyes and says one word.
“Come.”
And I fall apart at his command.
I’m breathless and panting when I finally come down from my orgasm. That was probably the most intense orgasm I’ve had in a while, and my body feels relaxed as I drift off to sleep.