Other Side of Beautiful (A Beautifully Disturbed #1) (8 page)

Chapter 13

Elle

As late as we stayed up, a lot of working our tongues without much talking, we still beat Kelly up and dressed, but we’d gotten up too late to partake in the continental breakfast the hotel offers.

Unlike the start of our amazing trip, Kelly chooses to end it by going out to my car while I check us out. Her baby crap is getting old real quickly. Okay, so she doesn’t get to call him Ben, who incidentally waits with me. Get over it. As we walk to the parking garage, he casually reaches over to grab my hand, linking our fingers together. I like being touched. I like how much he wants to touch me, and I know I’m going to miss it when we get home.

“Did you have fun?” He asks me without a hint of the usual confidence in that lopsided grin of his.

“Yeah, I had a wonderful time. Those pictures of us at the Bean—and then the duck dog.”

“Is that all?”

Can anyone say fishing? “Nothing else comes to mind.” I tease him, although Ben doesn’t laugh along with me like I thought he would. Normally he’d be slinging sarcasms right back and we’d joke about it. That’s how our friendship always worked. Now I wonder, is he having second thoughts about keeping our friendship going? Maybe
he
can’t handle the reset.

My bottle. I need my pill bottle, my safety net. His sudden intensity toward me is so jarring, part of me wants to run away, to put some safe distance between us, to give me time to think and regroup. But running is the coward’s way. I’ve been accused of being a lot of things, but never a coward. So I drop his fingers to reach inside my jean pockets first. The problem is I don’t remember putting it there this morning like I normally do. Frantic, I shove my hands in my jacket pockets, feeling around all the nooks and crannies, again coming up empty handed. What is there, in its place—a hole. A fat hole right in the seam. The pill bottle, my lucky pill bottle is gone, laying cold and alone somewhere in the city of Chicago. My heartrate kicks up in the mounting panic attack, but since nobody here, not even Kelly, knows about California or my pill bottle friend, I force myself to swallow down the lump of fear that has already traveled halfway up my esophagus.

I’m afraid to talk to him for fear of barfing on his shoes, even if only stomach acid. We were supposed to grab breakfast before we left, but he has me so twisted up, my missing safety has me so twisted up, all I want now is to reach my car and disappear from the disaster fast approaching. I’m not sure how to function without my pill bottle. We need to get home. Back in our element. He doesn’t talk either. He mostly keeps his hands in his pockets, staring down at his feet while we walk, which couldn’t be a more un-Benton move. On any normal day that man exudes confidence. Confidence to the nth degree. So I know. Right at this moment, I’m sure he’s about to end our friendship.

And then with Kelly, the only way she could have removed herself from us any more would be if she found another ride home. Earbuds in, she looks to have fallen asleep again, sprawled out across the backseat. But I’ll be damned before he gets to just end things. Benton Hayes means too much to me. Collin means too much to me. Errol and Sabrina. Zena and Garret. I cannot lose my family. Can. Not.

Sucking it up, I say the first thing to come to my head as we leave the downtown traffic to merge east again onto I94. Because I despise shadows. Those dark, ominous doorways to fear and sadness—they bring nothing but misery, and we have a huge shadow lurking overhead. I come up with one thing to make him think this weekend hasn’t affected me as much as it honestly has. “Bet there’s a lot of girls anxious to have the great Benton Hayes deposited safely back on campus.” And I force not quite a smile but more of a grimace on my face, which probably makes me look like an insane serial killer, or worse, a finance major.

He snaps his head to look directly at me. “Why would you say that?” Gee, I don’t know, which reason would you like? I feel the heft of his glare crushing me, crushing my feigned confidence. Damn him. We had a good thing going, and now he’s willing to just throw us away like inconvenient trash? It is hard, so hard to keep my focus on the road when all I want to do is punch him in his beautiful face. “Why would you say that to me after this weekend?” he demands.

“I don’t know. It’s tongue in cheek, Ben. What did you expect me to say?”

“It’s just, I thought we were on the same page.”

“Same page?” Now he’s gone and done it, my eyes start tearing up. “Ben, I’m not willing to give up you and Collin and everyone else because you got curious.”

“Curious? What the hell does that mean?”

“You’re always with these beautiful, perfect-bodied women. I get it. See what it’s like to be with someone my size without fear of anyone finding out.”

“That’s not—”

“Don’t you think it’s hard for me? When I let you kiss me that was me agreeing to those terms, pretending this weekend never happened. And it sucks. It really sucks. You have to know my feelings for you by now. Apparently awkward Elly wasn’t exactly subtle.”

“Dinninger, have I ever asked you to pretend anything? How do you still not know?
Shit
. I thought I was being every bit as obvious. I’ve wanted you for so long now. So damn long. And trust me when I say nobody’s body is perfect. But I only went out with those women because I couldn’t have you, who wouldn’t remind me of you.”

If a person could simultaneously feel their insides flipping cartwheels and cowering in fear, that would be the point I’ve reached. “I don’t understand.”

“No, you really don’t. We kissed on New Year’s because I made it happen.”

“You made it happen? The lights were out.”

“Yes, but I memorized the raised pattern on your blouse. I felt up every woman I ran into until I found you.”

“That’s a lot of felt up women. Isn’t it cheating, though?”

“All’s fair.”

“In love and war?”

“There are a lot of things I’d like to do with you, but war isn’t on the list.”

“I um—
what
?”

“Okay, this isn’t going how it did in my head. So I’m going to make it easy for the both of us. Elle Dinninger, I want to date you.”

“Date me?”

“Again,
yes
. Among other things.” There he goes, talking in head-scratchers again. I swear my eyes must have shot open to twice their normal size from the look of genial amusement staring back at me. How can he be so casual when I’m about a sentence and a half away from stroking out?

“But dating will do for now,” he says. At least that’s a step backward—in the right direction. “And before you ask, dating as in ongoing and exclusive, being out together in public places such as food establishments, the movies, or museums. Your choice. Not holed up in your apartment eating sushi and watching Outlander reruns, although that Jamie guy is pretty hot. Okay, you’ve talked me into it. We can add apartment Outlander to our list of acceptable dates.”

“Why?”

He starts to say some smart-alecky comeback, I can see it in the playful way his eyes sparkle with mischief, but he stops short when he sees the ‘I’m not playing, Hayes’ look I throw his way.

“Why? I told you I’m only interested in Ms. Right. I’ve known pretty much since winter semester of freshman year that you’re her. But you were so closed off back then. Guarded with how close you let people in. You’ve changed, started letting people in. Started letting me in. I got tired of waiting. Your signs told me it was the right time to act.”

“I thought you hated me after the bar.”

“It stung. You thought I kicked Callum’s ass for pity. When I saw him push you—the man is lucky he’s still able to walk.”

His words, what he wants is too much to process at one time. Cricket has made it her life’s work to make me believe no man would ever want me at my size, especially not a man as kind and caring as Benton Hayes. And that’s not even considering the thing that happened. She’ll never forgive me for it. Dr. Packard judges me for it. I’m breaking Dr. Packard’s cardinal rule even considering being with Ben. Out of nowhere a loud sob rips from my throat, surprising us both, and fat teardrops sting my eyes, making the road impossible to see ahead of me. I swerve hard to the right, cutting off the minivan next to me. The guy lays on his horn as I ride the shoulder to a stop. My Focus skids about another foot along the gravel.

“So what do you say?” he asks. Grabbing my hand in his, he brings them to rest on his lap once the car has stopped completely. I throw the shifter into park, turning to him.

“Yes. I want to date you. But I’m not ready—”

“For sex. I know.”

Shocked, I flinch. “I was going to say I’m not ready to tell the others. But thanks for putting it out there like that, Benton.” When I try to pull my hand back, he squeezes tighter, keeping it hostage on his lap.

“I’ve offended you.
Shit
. I did not mean to do that. But I want you to know it’s okay. We’ll go at your speed.”

“Why would you think I’m not ready for sex?”

The jerk actually rolls his eyes at me. “Please, we’ve spent the night, I’d say sleeping but a lot more than sleeping took place in that bed the past two nights. If you had wanted sex it would have happened already.”

“Maybe I didn’t know you wanted it.”

“Brontë, I’m a guy. We always want sex.”

“But you said you don’t always sleep with the girls.”

“You were there, in that hotel bed with me, right? With the way we kissed, do you honestly think I would’ve turned you down? Because I’m not that strong.”

“If you are pulling my leg, I swear to all things holy that your ass will walk the rest of the way home.”

“Does this feel like I’m pulling your leg?” He moves the hand he’s still holding further up his lap. I venture a look from his face to his crotch and yeah, I see how not kidding he is at the same time I feel him pressing against my hand. Filling it. If it hadn’t been apparent before why women enjoy his company so much, well, it’s blatantly apparent now. “Wait, did I cross a line? Are you feeling violated in any way?”

His sheepish delivery at least makes me laugh enough to quit the crying. I wipe the last straggling tears away with the back of my hand.

“Not feeling violated. You really are a good guy, Ben.”

“I’d like to think when it counts.”

“It always counts.”

“I really want to kiss you again.”

“Kelly is in the backseat.”

“And she was in the next bed last night. It didn’t stop us then. But if you don’t want me to—”

“
No!
” I speak too fast, and then amend myself quickly. “You can kiss me.”

I could turn kissing Benton into a career. His lips deserve that kind of attention. And he just feels good, feels right in the way we fit together, his hard muscles against my soft curves. There’s still so much for us to sort through, but for now his lips move in that slow, purposeful way along my jaw to find that perfect spot behind my ear again. Pure bliss. We could stay here the rest of the day. With the wind rattling my poor little car, it’s easy to tune out the semis whipping past us, or the nasty bit of weather looking poised to unleash its fury overhead. Neither of those things make us move. Kelly waking up slightly, asking “Are we there yet?” and rolling back over to recapture her sleep—that makes us move.

Chapter 14

Ben

When she drops me off at my apartment, I tell her I’ll call so we can set up one of those dates. And then peck her forehead quickly before grabbing up my bag and hopping out. Because if I do anything more than a peck, Kelly will get a real show. Brontë wouldn’t want that, for Kelly to find out about us before she has the chance to tell her herself.

I can’t lie. I sense her watching me walk away, snow skittering tiny dust clouds around my feet. She’s mine. The woman I’ve longed for, for so long now, is totally mine. I will make it my life’s work to make sure she never wants to be anyone else’s ever.
Ever.

Collin isn’t home. I check the kitchen and his bedroom, both empty. Although I have no right to be, I’m actually kind of pissed that he’s not home right now. Not when he knows how much was riding on our weekend working out. And to tell him, sparing the most intimate details, how fantastic it all went and how she said yes. She said she wants to be with me too.

Since my best friend totally dropped the ball on this one, not seeming overly zealous goes out the window pretty quickly. I try. I honestly try to wait by doing anything else I can think of, throwing my weekend clothes into the wash, doing up the few dishes Collin left in the sink. I even turn the television on and boot up my laptop.

I should write. To put down for posterity every event, touch, kiss, every word spoken over the weekend so that someday, sometime far in the future, when people are discussing the greatest stories ever told, well, ours is among them.

But then that doesn’t happen either. As if running on autopilot, my phone is in hand, pressing her speed dial connection. Waiting is the hardest part. The phone rings once. Twice. Three times. I can’t wait to hear her sweet voice and her reaction to what I did.

“Black panties?” she asks. No ‘hello.’

“Like that, do you?”

“No.”
Yes
. I can hear the yes in her voice. When I woke up yesterday and she was in the shower, well, I thought it would be fun to play with her phone a bit. She had these sexy black lace panties packed in her bag. They were hanging half out, and I decided to utilize them. Hanging them off the tip of my finger and pretending to kiss them, I snapped a picture. Although knowing she owns them really makes me wish she’s wearing them today. I can totally get behind Elle in a pair of black lace panties. Of course, if I got behind Elle in a pair of black lace panties, she wouldn’t be in them for too much longer. Like that thought doesn’t get me harder than a fourteen-year-old looking at his first Playboy.

“About that date,” I say, really needing to get my mind off of Brontë in those black panties.

“I didn’t think you’d really call. That’s just something guys say.”

“Elle, I hoped you’d see by now that I’m not your stereotypical guy.”

“You are in the books
I
read.”

“What are the guys like in those?”

“Tall, Grecian god gorgeous. You know…”

“No, not unless you tell me. We clearly read different genres.” Is it wrong for me to want to make her say these things out loud? She was right, she’s never been subtle. Not trying to be vain here, but I know she thinks I’m attractive. I know she cares for me. We’ve been friends too long now for me not to know. I’d be an idiot not to know. “You aren’t just a onetime thing for me. We’re dating now. Hard to be dating without actually dating. So again, about that date…”

“What would you like to do on our date?”

I laugh. Can’t help it. I laugh and say, “Well that depends. Do you want my true answer or the respectable first date answer?”

“Is it bad to say a little of both?”

“Oh, Brontë, you’re killing me here.” And it’s her turn to laugh now, all breathy, causing the tightening in my jeans to become downright painful. I can almost see her shaking her head at me. “Executive decision. We’re going respectable for the time being. Doesn’t mean things can’t change once we’re in it, but I need to do right by you. So I was thinking—and tell me if it’s too soon—that you might be hungry after a long trip. And that maybe, you’d like to join me at one of those public food establishments?”

“I’m shaking my head yes, in case you can’t hear the rattling.”

During the course of the conversation, without giving anything away, my keys found my hand. And then I’m in my Jeep driving. She has no idea that I’m driving to her. The timing couldn’t be more perfect. As we near the end of the conversation, I stop on her stoop. “Great. Come to your door then.”