"That's rather forward." He put his elbows on his knees and leaned closer to me. "You haven't even asked me my name."
"Okay, smartass, what's your name?"
He laughed. "Ben."
"Ben..." I needed to know his last name too. One syllable wasn't enough.
"Jones."
Ben Jones? His name was too average for his looks. I had imagined his name was Noah Hays. I had screamed that name in my dreams too many times to count. But as I stared at him, Ben Jones grew on me. Ben. Benny. Benny boo. What am I doing? "It's nice to meet you, Ben Jones." I liked the way his name felt on my tongue.
He put his hand out. "The pleasure is all mine..."
He was waiting for my name. I was tempted to lie. To tell him my name was something common like Jane. Jane sounded good with Jones. Jane Jones. I almost laughed at the thought. I knew him for a few minutes and I was already imagining us getting married.
I cleared my throat, trying to rid myself of the fake name that wanted to escape. "Adeline." It sounded harsh. It always sounded harsh when I told people my name. That was one of the many reasons I hated it.
He reached forward and took my good hand in his. "Adeline. Such a unique name. It's beautiful."
No, it was just plain odd. But I guess that suited me. "Not as beautiful as Ben." What is wrong with me? Had I really just said that out loud?
He laughed.
Yup, I had drunk too much. I was starting to be embarrassing. I could feel the alcohol as it spread to my limbs. My arms felt heavier. My mind felt...giddier. I laughed.
"What's so amusing?" he asked.
"It's been a long time since I've had anything to drink. And this bourbon already made my arms feel heavy." I laughed again.
"Made your arms feel heavy? I haven't heard that one before. Also," he said and leaned forward to snag my glass away, "it's scotch. And I think I should cut you off."
"Right." I dropped my voice and added, "We wouldn't want anyone to know we drank some."
He raised both his eyebrows. "Mhm. You've definitely had too much to drink."
Maybe. I leaned forward. I wanted to be closer to him. Just for a second. I wanted to smell him again. I wanted his hand to be back on my waist. He didn't realize how desperate I was. How much I truly needed this moment.
"You're right about me, Ben."
He didn't inch away from me as I leaned forward. If anything, he seemed to move closer too.
"That's why I'm cutting you off," he said.
"No, no." I waved my arm through the air. "The other thing." I shifted my butt on the couch, trying to get more comfortable. Or maybe I was just retreating. He was too close. He was supposed to be left in my imagination. The fact that he was right in front of me was too real. "God, my ankle really hurts."
"Here." His hands moved to my foot and he started unlacing my shoe.
He's undressing me.
"What other thing?" he asked.
"Hmm?"
"You said I was right about you. And then you said it was the other thing."
"Oh." I laughed. "I run every day at 8 a.m. because I know this lawn is on your schedule at 8 a.m. on Thursdays. And also it's better to run the same time each day because your body likes routine. It's scientifically proven."
"I understand the premise of the workout. But why do you time it so that you can see me?" He gently pulled off my sneaker.
I immediately felt relief. "Obviously because I'm madly in love with you." It came out as an exhale. I didn't even have any control over it.
His stormy blues danced with amusement. "Yeah, I figured that."
I laughed. "I was joking, buddy."
He sat back down in his seat. Even though I was begging him with my eyes to join me on the couch.
"We're back to buddy? I thought we were on a first name basis now."
I ignored him. "You never told me how old you were."
"Twenty three. And you?"
Only twenty three? He really was young. Of course he was. He mowed lawns for a living. He's a landscaper, I reminded myself. But wasn't that all the same? No wonder he had called me ma'am. "Older than you."
He smiled. "Well, I wouldn't have guessed that. What are you then, twenty five? Twenty six?"
I just turned thirty a few weeks ago. Thirty. I was officially a ma'am. I'd never speak to him again after this. What did it matter if he knew I was an old lady? "I just turned thirty actually."
He made this adorable whistling noise that put the smile back on my face.
"You don't look thirty. Not that it's bad that you are. I just would have assumed you were in your mid-twenties."
"Sure. You called me ma'am."
"I was being respectful."
"That's something you call old ladies."
He put his elbows back on his knees. "Trust me, that is not the way I intended it."
"Ben."
"Adeline."
"Oh, God, don't call me that."
"What would you prefer that I call you?"
"My friends call me Addy." A lie. I no longer had any friends. And when I was little, my mother forced me to go by Adeline. She said I'd never get ahead with a name like Addy and that she had given me the elegant name for a reason. And that reason wasn't to chop it in half.
"Addy, then, it was never my intention to make you feel old. Or demean you in any way."
“Then what was your intention? To get me drunk? And then what?”
I watched his Adam’s apple rise and then fall. That wasn’t in my head. It was an actual reaction to my words. He liked me too. Maybe we could still pop a few buttons.
“What do you think?” he asked.
He was saying all the right things. He was almost too kind. Too perfect. Especially for a twenty three year old male. He should have been out with his friends smoking reefer, not starting his own landscaping business. He looked young, but he acted mature. And I couldn't help but wonder how mature he'd be in the bedroom. Would he care about my needs? Or would he just get off as soon as possible? What am I doing? He's twenty three. He's not going to seduce you, you old hag.
I drank too much. And my libido was on too high of an alert. It was safer to go home, lock the door, and pretend this never happened. "I think that maybe it might be best if you could take me home?" Just because he knew where I lived, it didn't mean he'd stalk me. I was the stalker in this equation.
His smiled faded.
The expression made my chest ache. How could I already love his smiles so much?
"Yeah, of course. But what about your friend? I thought you wanted to wait for her?"
"She was still in the waiting room. She was going to be forever."
His smile faded even more.
He thinks you don't want to sit here with him. How wrong he was. This was the highlight of my month. My year. The past decade.
"Let me grab those crutches for you then."
"Oh, no need. I'll just stay off my feet until it's better."
He laughed as he stood up. "Don't be ridiculous." He wandered out into the hall and came back a few moments later carrying a pair of crutches. He was really helping himself to these people's possessions. I watched as he adjusted the height of them, lowering them to a position he thought would fit me.