“Excuse me? I’m not going to do drugs with you. I don’t know what kind of illegal things 23 year olds do, but I…”
“I saw the powder in your sink.” He pulled out a wrapped sandwich and placed it on my plate without looking at me.
Powder? I looked over at the sink. Oh, God. “No, that’s not…” my voice trailed off. Technically, I had tossed a bunch of drugs down the garbage disposal yesterday. Some of the grindings must have still been in the sink.
“It would explain why you’re so fidgety.”
“I don’t do illegal drugs. And I’m not fidgety.” I willed my knee to stop bouncing. He made me nervous, that was all.
“So…prescription drugs then?”
“No actually. Not anymore.” I thought about the one prescription that I hid in the pantry. The one I’d never stop taking.
“What did you used to take then?”
“None of your business.”
“Well, what were they for?”
“What, you want a list of my problems? How dare you barge in here and be…be… so demanding.”
He put his elbows on the table and leaned forward slightly. “Doll, you literally pulled me inside your home. And I’m not being demanding, I’m just making conversation.”
Doll. My mind seemed to focus on the most random parts of his sentences.
“But I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. Forget that I asked. He pulled out the other sandwich, unwrapped it, and then dumped some fries on my plate.
“How would you feel if I asked you what prescriptions you took?” I unwrapped my sandwich and tried to ignore him.
“I’d tell you that I don’t take any.”
“Just illegal ones then?”
He laughed. “No. My only vice is the occasional drink with a beautiful woman.”
I stared down at the burger I had just unwrapped. It was topped with crunchy onion straws and there was a delicious looking sauce dripping down the sides. He had called me beautiful. Yet, I couldn’t look up at him. I didn’t want to know if he was being patronizing or serious. So instead of looking, I pushed the utensils to the side, lifted up the burger, and took a huge bite.
“Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?”
“What?” I said with my mouth still full.
He laughed. “The last date I went on, the girl ordered a salad and only ate half.”
“If that’s a challenge to see if I can eat this whole thing, you’re on.” I swallowed the bite still in my mouth. “I slept for 24 hours straight. I’m starving.”
“Twenty four hours? Was meeting me really that exhausting?”
“Excruciatingly so.” This burger was everything delicious in the world. I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten a burger. Or red meat. Or fries. I started to shovel those in my mouth as well without even realizing what I was doing.
Ben laughed.
I looked up at him mid-chew and realized I must look like a starving animal. I swallowed and cleared my throat. “Please don’t stare at me while I eat, it makes me nervous.”
“Please? Did you really just say please? I think that was the first nice thing that I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said.
“Do you even know how to give a compliment?” He smiled as if he had me right where he wanted me.
“Of course I do.”
“Then let me hear one.” He leaned forward slightly as he waited.
“It’s not a compliment if you have to beg for it.”
“It doesn’t have to be about me. I just brought you lunch. You could thank me for that.”
“But I asked you not to bring it.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I think you just proved me right.”
I didn’t want him to think I hated him when it was so fiercely untrue. “You look very nice today. Cleaner than yesterday.”
He laughed. “The first half of that was a compliment. The second half was an insult.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being dirty,” I said and picked up a fry.
I thought maybe I imagined it yesterday. But I don’t think I had. Because his Adam’s apple had just risen and fallen again. The action made me press my thighs together.
“No, there’s definitely nothing wrong with being dirty,” he said.
I bit the inside of my lip. How long did he say he was staying? I had a feeling that as time ticked by I’d have a harder and harder time keeping my hands to myself.
Chapter 8
I squeezed the excess water out of my hair before wrapping a towel around myself. I was terribly out of practice with flirting. Somehow our conversation had taken a quick turn to the fact that I was actually dirty. The sexual innuendo evaporated completely when I had started talking about my greasy hair.
But the tension in the air hadn’t gone away. It still swirled around me even though he was all the way downstairs. Doing who knows what in my house.
Just the thought made me hurry. I combed out the knots in my hair and applied a little too much makeup for a day at home. I pushed my bangs aside to see the bruise that Ben had pointed out yesterday. It was almost invisible under my foundation, but I added a little concealer just in case. In a few days, it would be gone completely and I wouldn’t have to worry. But until then, Ben was asking invasive questions. And I was starting to wonder why. Was it really because he liked me? He was seven years younger than me. What could he possibly want from me that he couldn’t get from someone his own age?
Was a seven year age gap enough for me to be considered a cougar? Just the thought made me feel nauseous. I wasn’t one of those women. And it wasn’t like I was going to act on my desire. I couldn’t afford to act on my desires. I positioned my bangs back in place and hopped into my bedroom. Yoga pants and a tank top seemed like the easiest clothes to crawl around in. And take off. Stop it!
For some reason, I still pulled on a red lacy thong and matching bra. Just in case. Not that anything was going to happen. Geez, he was 23. He was too young. Too nice. Too naïve for…me. I caught my reflection in the mirror. So why did I put on so much mascara?
I turned away from the mirror. It was easy to picture this house being a home. Was that what I wanted? To feel loved again? To feel whole? I blinked quickly so that my mascara wouldn’t start to run. None of that mattered. Ben could be my friend. Nothing more. I wasn’t even sure why I let my mind wander.
I opened up the door and sat down on the stairs. My pride wouldn’t let me call for him. Or maybe it was just that if I was in his arms again I’d lose all self-control. I scooted down the stairs a step at a time.
My legs were in good shape from running. But having to slowly hoist myself down each step made the muscles in my arms burn. I needed to add strength training to my workouts.
A deep chuckle made me look up. Ben was standing at the foot of the stairs with his arms folded across his chest. The amused look on his face made me press my lips together.
I wanted him. I wanted him desperately. That was why I threw insults his way. It was easier than admitting that I couldn’t have what I wanted. I needed him to become something I didn’t crave. “Would you stop staring at me? You don’t need to be here.” I swallowed down the groan in my throat as I moved down another stair.