Virtually Perfect (8 page)

Her hair was dripping wet.  Ben could smell Pears soap. 

He paused. 

He could see she'd been crying.

'Listen!' he said excitedly, grabbing her hand, looking up to the sky.  

There weren't any stars. 

...What's he on about? 

Eve could only hear the TV.  They were on Nessun Dorma.  It would be finished in a minute.

'None shall sleep!' he whispered.

'...What?' 

Ben's eyes moved furtively, across the rooftops, then back to her.

'None shall sleep!'

'Oh, no don't...  You'll get all...' 

Ben went down on his knees.

Fuck!  It's cold!

He was singing, almost whispering, against the music; smiling up at her, waving a hand across the sky. 

Eve paused.

...Is he speaking Italian?

He started singing it for her in English.  Something about secrets, princesses, dark rooms...

Eve glowered down.  She folded her arms.

'...Are you pissed?' 

Ben smiled, scrambling up. 

'It's Turandot,' he said breezily, standing over her, moving closer. 

Eve just looked up, her eyes full of suspicion. 

'Puccini...  You know?'

Eve just carried right on looking at him, the glower wavering.

To all intents and purposes, he appeared the same, beneath the expensive suit.  And yet Eve saw something different tonight - she couldn't quite put her finger on it.  He still had the front, doubly so.  The charm, the assertiveness, the charisma.  But when she looked into his eyes, there was something else there.  He looked tired.  They weren't smiling with him.  Eve thought he looked almost sad.

She flinched as he touched her.  He sensed she was going to push him away.  He wrapped his arms around her waist.  She put her hands up to his chest.  But she didn't push.  Ben could smell her shampoo.  A flash of white metal caught his eye, glinting amongst her dark, wet curls.

'Have you ever been to the opera?' he asked.

She looked up, eventually shaking her head.

He didn't smell of booze.  He smelt rather nice, actually.  Eve's gaze fell to the floor.

'I'd like to take you,' she heard him say.  '...If you'll let me.'

Ben almost thought he saw her smile. 

She gazed into nothing.  He pulled her a little closer still.  He'd fucked up last time, he wasn't going to do it again.

'I needed to see you,' Ben told her.  Her black eyes bounced up.  He definitely saw her smile that time. 

He swept her soft face with his fingertips.  Her eyes closed.  Ben touched her chin, tilting her mouth up to him.

Eve could hear the crescendo drifting out after them, into the cold night air.

'I will win,' Ben whispered, against her lips.  He felt her shudder.  He was watching her, eyes glazed, sweeping her face, lingering on the crescents of sooty lashes. 

He leaned in a little closer.

'I... will... win.'

Eve's arms wrapped around his neck.  She felt him lifting her up.  She heard him kick the door; felt the warmth of the flat. 

She heard a shriek.  Suddenly, they were falling. 

The impact knocked the air from Eve's lungs.  Ben was crushing her. 

'Ow...' 

The weight lifted. 

'Shit!  Sorry!  ...Are you alright?'

Ben knelt over her; a bundle of flailed limbs, towels and curls.  He helped her to sit up.

'I'm fine,' she smiled coyly, yanking her dressing gown together.  Mr Bojangles chirruped merrily, jingling off to the kitchen.

'...He does that all the time,' Eve complained.  'He's like a walking trip wire.'

Ben helped her up onto her feet.

Eve grabbed at the unravelling towel with one hand, holding her dressing gown closed with the other.  There wasn't going to be a dignified way out of this, she realised.  Ben was watching her, smirking. 

'I didn't know you spoke Italian,' she said, feigning nonchalance, shuffling off to the bedroom. 

She dropped the towel, quickly closing the dressing gown again. 

...Should she get dressed?  What should she wear?  She glanced in the mirror.

Sweet Jesus!  I look like a hobo!

'Mia nonna era italiana...' 

Eve turned around. 

Ben stood at her bedroom doorway, his forearm resting on the frame. 

Sharp suit, white shirt, tanned skin, ruffled hair.  He looked like he'd just dropped out of Vogue. 

Eve just stood there, staring at him.  He was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen.

'...Google non ti dice tutto, principessa.' 

He tilted his face down, smirking, fixing her gaze.

'...Do I need to close my eyes?' he asked huskily.

...Has the heating come on?  Why is it so hot?

Eve wiped her brow on her sleeve, her pulse bounding.  She froze, watching him stalking towards her.

He came to a halt behind where she was standing.  Eve flinched as she felt his arms circle her waist.

'Evelyn, Evelyn...' he sighed, breathing in the smell of her. 

No perfume tonight... 

'...Così insicuro. Così fragile.' 

She felt his breath on her neck.  She shuddered.

'...Innocenzo, come una colomba.' 

Eve closed her eyes as he drew back her wet hair, tilting her head to one side. 

Ben drew a featherlight line on her bare skin with the tip of his finger, from her neck to her shoulder.  Eve gave a ragged sigh.

'...In English?'

She felt his hands on her neck, gently massaging her with his thumbs.

'Evelyn,' he whispered.  'Open your eyes.'

His stare burned back at her through the dressing table mirror, his chin resting on her shoulder.  Eve's pulse thundered in her ears, her stomach turning somersaults.  She stood up as straight as she could.  Her knees were starting to wobble. 

His hands lingered on the bow of her dressing gown.  He glanced down at it, stroking the loop.  His fingers wrapped around the loose end; he looked up into the mirror.  Eve stared back.  What was he doing? 

Ben's voice of reason screamed that he was on the verge of a monumental fuck up.  It was too muffled; Ben couldn't hear.  He was too busy listening to the quickening of her breath.  It had been a horrible day.  He needed her, to wash it away.

Ben felt her stiffen.  His hand slackened off.  He saw her eyes flicker, staring back for what seemed like forever.  He watched them narrow, saw her lips twitch.  His fingers tightened again. 

He gave the slightest tug, hesitated.  She made no move to stop him, just staring right back.  She raised her chin.  Her eyebrow crooked.  She was smiling faintly.  Ben took a deep breath.  He pulled it undone. 

Eve felt the dressing gown slide from her shoulders, heard it fall on the floor, felt the cool air on her skin. 

He gently held her hands in his, lifting them up and parting them wide.

'You're beautiful.' he murmured.

He fought to keep his eyes on hers, glittering back in the mirror. 

Eve was watching him.

'...Thanks.'

A second later, she slipped through his fingers. 

She walked away, looking down at the floor, fighting the giggle rising up in her throat. 

Eve got up onto the double bed, lying square in the centre.  She made no effort to cover up.  She reached back and fluffed the pillows behind her, crossing her ankles, her eyes never leaving his.  She laid her head down.   

'Is this all part of the after sales service?' she asked, raising a finely-arched eyebrow. 

A smile played on her lips. 

'...I'm sorry?' said Ben. 

He slipped his hands into his pockets, not really sure where to look.

'Do you do this with all of your models?'

Eve's smile turned bittersweet.

'...You're not my model,' he said.

Eve's brow gathered in a trace of a frown.  Her arms folded over her breasts.

'Did you come here to have sex with me?'

'
No!' said Ben. 

But I would have considered it a bonus...

Ben's thumbs drove into the palms of his hands, his fists clenched hard.  How many times had he imagined her naked?  It was so distracting.  It took everything he had not to look.

'Do you think that expensive presents will make it all OK when you just disappear?'

The words were accusing.  The tone and expression stayed fairly matter-of-fact.

'...I'm sorry, Evelyn,' he said, staring at his shoes.  ' I should have called, it's just I had a family thing.'

'I wanted to thank you for the earrings,' she told him.  'But you just walked away.'

'I didn't buy them for a thank you.  I bought them to make you happy.'

Eve's stare hardened.

'Do you think I just need someone to buy me pretty things?  Make me feel beautiful?'

'I...I do think you're insecure.'

Ben paused. 

'...Well, I did.  Until a minute ago.'

He looked up pensively, hesitated, then followed her beckoning finger to the edge of the bed.

Eve rolled onto her side, looking up at him, elbow nestled in the pillows, cheek resting on her hand.  Her eyes sparkled.  She raked her hair from her face. 

Ben stared at the floor, biting his lip.  He hadn't had sex since Lydia.  He was on the verge of combustion.

'I'm not so insecure,' he heard her tease.  '...It's OK, Ben.  You can look.'

His gaze bounced up.  She smiled at him.  He managed a whole second of eye contact before his gaze began meandering down. 

The arch of her throat, the light playing on the soft skin of her shoulders.  He stared at her coral-tipped breasts. 

Eve watched the dip of his Adam's apple, his eyes glaze over.

She was perfect.  She was beautiful. 

'I have no problem with me...' he heard her say. 

His eyes swept her midriff, the soft indentations of her ribcage, the hollow of her bellybutton, the arc of her white hips.  His fingers fidgeted.  He wanted to touch her.  His gaze lingered on her soft, supple thighs.  The neat, little dark crease.

'...I'm just not so sure about you.'

Eve's stare was intense.   Ben shook himself.

'Nice socks!' he said, rubbing the back of his head, trying to smile, not sure anymore what to do with himself.

'How do I know you won't screw me over?'

'...Huh?' 

'Oh, I know,' she said pointedly.  'You'll promise me that you won't.  And we both know I'm going to believe you.  But... it's only words.  A promise is only good until it is broken.  And when it is?  Oh well,' she said in a sing-song voice.  'Never mind!  ...But if I give you my body, that's something valuable, to me...  That's something I can never take back.'

Ben paused.  He stared for a moment.  Eve watched a smile spread across his lips.  He turned his back on her.  Eve watched as he marched over to her wardrobe, flinging the mahogany doors wide open. 

He riffled through the hangers quickly, their hooks scraping on the rail.  Eve saw him unclip her black ball gown; watched in confusion as the mille feuille fluttered through the air, landing on her like a big black meringue.

She peered over the top.

'Get dressed!'

Ben was grinning.

'What are you—'

'Come on, put it on!'

She unzipped the velvet bodice, tugging it over her head in a daze.  She felt a hand grab her ankle, felt him dragging her to the edge of the bed, watched in horror as he pushed her feet into her Reeboks.

'They stink!'

...Oh God, he's not some weird fetishist, is he?

'Shush!' said Ben.  He grabbed her hands, yanked her onto her feet.  He went behind her.  Eve felt the bodice grow tight as he quickly did up the zipper.  The mille feuille unfurled to her shins. 

He put his hands on her shoulders, looked her over.

'Beautiful!' he grinned. 

A second later they were at the front door. 

'That'll do,' he said, grabbing her hoodie from the coat stand, thrusting it into her hands.  Eve yanked it on.  She grabbed her keys from the hall table, slammed the door, chased him down the metal steps, out onto the street.

Ben grabbed Eve's hand and yanked it, grinning.  They ran down the middle of the road.  A couple stood in a doorway watching.  They were giggling too.  Ben had a smile as wide as a mile.  Eve's eyes sparkled like diamonds.

Their laughter and footsteps echoed around the terraces as they ran down Burlington Street.  Eve's head was cold, her hair still damp, the curls bouncing as she ran.