Chapter 13 #2
When he’s sure I won’t protest, he slowly lowers his hand, leaving our lips dangerously close. His gaze drops to my mouth and lingers there for a moment. I feel strangely naked before his eyes. When was the last time someone looked at me this closely? I’m not sure anyone ever has.
His eyes search my face for another moment before he looks away, back to the screen. I watch him for a second longer before I turn, too. Okay, I can use him as a bench for a couple of hours. It’s not like I’m going to relax in his arms or anything.
Twenty-five minutes later, I’ve lost my posture and am resting against his chest. He adjusts me again, positioning my legs between his. His chest is hard yet soft, just like when he was a flying bed. I could fall asleep here.
I won’t.
But I could.
In the corner of my eye, I see Austin turning his head to look back at us.
I wonder what this looks like. I want everyone to know that Benjamin Reyes and I dislike each other.
We despise each other. He’s like the Janice to my Chandler.
Benjamin probably wonders the same because I can feel his jaw working and his fingers clench next to my thigh.
After another minute, Austin turns back to the movie, and both Benjamin and I relax again. Except for Austin, no one seems to notice me sitting in Benjamin Reyes’s lap—they’re too occupied with the movie. Soon, so am I.
I’m so invested in the movie that I don’t notice at first the bucket of popcorn Benjamin offers me. I shoot him a questioning look. “Where did you get that from?”
“Magic,” he says, without meeting my gaze. I eye the bucket with suspicion. He sighs. “Wow, you’re paranoid.”
“It’s you offering me popcorn. It’s like being offered popcorn from a werewolf when you’re a vampire.”
He doesn’t reply, but there’s a tiny twist on his lips.
An evil tiny twist. I accept the bucket and can’t help the thrill the smell provokes in me.
I love popcorn—so very unique of me, I know.
Benjamin bends down, snaking an arm around my waist so I won’t fall off his lap, magically conjuring two bottles of soda.
“Honestly, where did you get this?” I whisper.
“I bought it before the movie,” he says on an exhale.
“Why did you buy two sodas? Were you stood up?”
He stares at me quietly for a moment. “All these questions. You must be in love with me, Collins.”
“You wish. But were you stood up?”
“No. I wasn’t stood up. I told you, I don’t do relationships.”
“Does that include dates?”
He shoots me an assessing look, like he can’t decide whether he should respond to that or not. Finally, he sighs deeply. “Yes.” Then he shifts back to the screen.
I contemplate that for a moment. He doesn’t do relationships, and he doesn’t date. It disturbs me that I’m wondering why. I don’t care about him. He can do whatever.
I focus on the movie again. And the popcorn of course. His arm is still snaked around me, but it’s okay. I’ll never admit this out loud, but it kind of makes me feel safe. I feel comfortable.
When the shark is out sharking again, I forget where I am, and quickly pull my feet up from the sand.
But just when they’re up and safe, I remember and pause.
I drop them again when Benjamin, without a word or a look, catches my feet and brings them back up.
He adjusts me for the third time, placing my feet on the other side of him.
I glance at him but don’t move. This feels safe.
Hm. Both his arms are like warm, protective shields around me now, casually resting around my waist and legs.
I don’t hate it, which is weird because I normally don’t like physical contact like this.
Sex? Yes. But any kind of cuddling? No. Not that this is cuddling.
He doesn’t eat particularly much popcorn, but that’s more than okay because I do. Except when the freaking shark turns up unexpectedly, then I stop and squeeze my eyes shut, and every time that happens, I imagine Benjamin’s arms around me tighten.
Margot was right, though, it gets chilly on the beach at night and when half of the movie has passed, I start to shiver. I regret lying about going back to the house to get a sweater.
Benjamin drops his head, whispering in my ear. “You cold?”
“No.”
He sits up, drops his arms from me, and pulls off his hoodie. I watch him with a knitted brow. The frown deepens when he hands me the sweater.
“What are you . . . ?”
“Take the sweater, Collins.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You’re freezing. I’m not.”
“Never in a million—” I’m cut off again.
“Just shut up and take the damn sweater.”
I stare stubbornly at him. The fabric is intoxicatingly warm and inviting, the shiver on my arms deepens just by the feel of it. And then, with an exaggerated sigh and an eyeroll to make a point, I accept it and drag it over my head. Wow, it’s soft. And warm. And smells irritatingly good.
I adjust it as well as I can because I’m drowning in it and when I’m done, he puts his arms back around me. I don’t protest, and neither of us says anything. I lean back, and he tightens his grip.
We don’t speak or move for the rest of the movie. When the credits roll, I have momentarily forgotten where I’m sitting and remain immobile in his arms, like this is the comfiest chair ever. Benjamin doesn’t move either.
The ocean is roaring next to us, with waves much heavier now than earlier tonight. I stare into the thick darkness and think about everything that could be down there in the depths. Will I ever take a swim again? Most likely not.
“You know it’s just a movie, right? The shark wasn’t real.”
Aaand then I’m reminded of where I am. I stand up quickly, scowling at him with my head cocked.
“But unfortunately, you are.”
Is he fighting a smile? Jackass.
Jake and Audrey are snoring next to us, and I’m just about to say goodbye and leave when Iris, Austin, and Fey walk up to us. Well, Iris is actually running.
“Oh, June, I’m so glad you found a place to sit. I was on my way over to you when I saw Benjamin helping you.” Then she lowers her voice and giggles. “The old man, I think he was a tourist, kept falling asleep on Austin’s shoulder.”
“Not the cuddle you planned for, I bet,” Benjamin says, rising from the chair.
Austin’s brows furrow. “What?”
“Is it over? Did the shark die?” Jake blinks at us, by the looks of it, clearly awakened in the middle of REM sleep. Audrey jumps down from his lap and skips over to Benjamin, where she sits at his feet. He rubs behind her ears, and her eyes flutter shut again.
“You okay?” Austin asks, looking at me. He seems disturbed by something.
“Yes. But I think I’ll hurry home. I need to pick up Cactus before Margot goes to bed.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Iris says. “I want to see the patio.”
I start walking along the beach, not exactly overjoyed about being this close to the water with all its sharks, but the alternative is to walk through town and risk running into aggressive raccoons. At least sharks can’t attack me on land.
I turn when I hear people behind me.
“Let it go, man. She’s clearly not interested.” Benjamin’s voice. It’s dark so I can’t see who he’s talking to.
“And what do you know about that?” Is that Austin?
“She told me.”
“She told you what?”
“She told me she’s not looking for any kind of commitment.”
I wonder who they’re talking about.
“June said that to you?”
What?
“Yes.”
I turn just in time to see a shadow stride away. A bigger shadow appears in my sight, accompanied by a smaller shadow at his feet.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Pardon?”
“Why did you tell him that?”
Benjamin shrugs. “He’s not what you need.”
I almost choke on my own surprise, anger burning behind my skin. “What the hell do you know about what I need?”
“He won’t make you laugh.”
I stare at him, unable to get a word out—because he’s right. Austin is not what I need. He won’t make me laugh. But it’s not up to Benjamin Reyes to decide that. I want to shoot Drunk June (Puke June?) for telling him personal stuff. I’m never drinking again.
“But if you think otherwise . . .” He turns and inhales. “Au—”
I throw myself forward. “No!” He falls silent and shifts his head back to me again. We watch each other for another moment before I break eye contact and start walking again. “What are you even doing here? You live in the opposite direction.”
He catches up with me without effort. “Thank you for informing me.” I glare at him. “But I have a dog who needs a walk.”
I make sure he hears my sigh. He shoots me a glance, and I swear he looks like he thinks this is fun. Audrey is walking unleashed and unbothered next to him. I study her for a moment. “How do you get her to do that?”
“Do what?”
“Walk without a leash.”
“Practice.” He peers at me from the side. “It’s not hard. It takes a little practice, but Cactus would get the hang of it quickly. She’s a smart dog.”
I think about how much easier it would be to run with her without the leash. “And she never runs away?”
“No. It can happen, of course—let’s say if she gets scared—but it’s not common with a safe and well-behaved dog.”
“I don’t know how well-behaved Cactus is,” I mumble, more to myself than to him, but there’s a hint of a smile in his voice when he speaks again.
“She’s well-behaved. You just have to get to know her.”
“She’s not particularly interested in getting to know me,” I mutter.
“Are you? Interested in getting to know her?”
I don’t answer. We walk in silence for a while.
“What kind of breed is she?” I ask, watching Audrey stroll beside him with lively steps.
“A dog.”
An urge to laugh rushes through me. Damn, that was actually funny.
I bite hard on the inside of my cheek to not spill even a hint of a smile or laugh.
Instead, I glare at him again. It’s dark, but it looks like he’s biting back a smile, too, apparently satisfied with his own joke at my expense. Gah, he’s annoying.
“She’s a Toller,” he says finally.
I nod like I’ve heard about Tollers before. I haven’t—what a surprise.