“Happy birthday,” he says in a soft voice and I sit up, ready to take offense if he’s making fun of me but he isn’t. Ben isn’t smirking now. He’s thoughtful as he watches me and his brow wrinkles with concern as if he’s worried about what I might be thinking.
I swing my legs around and push my arms through the sleeves of my dress yet I don’t zip it up again. My hand lands on his knee. There are still all kinds of aftershocks going off between my legs and I feel good. Really good. Enough to be bold.
“I can do something for you too.” I move my hand over the hard planes of his upper thigh.
Ben covers my hand with his. “You don’t have to.”
“I really want to.”
He grins. “Then I’ll let you.”
I know he’s watching my face as he unbuckles his belt and I’m hypnotized by the sight of him getting his pants open. He pauses for only a heartbeat before pushing his black boxers down and then showing off how hard he is. I haven’t seen a huge collection of dicks but I’ve seen enough to know that Ben’s is quite impressive. Somehow all my varied sex fantasies never considered how hot it would be to watch a guy stroke his own rigid shaft. He does so with expert ease, making it obvious that this is something he’s used to doing.
And I’m captivated.
I’m insanely aroused.
I’m pretty sure I’m going to be replaying this scene in my head again and again for decades to come.
“Show me how,” I beg and he groans when my hand wraps around him. He lets me do the work, guiding my hand up and down, and I love it. I love the hot feel of his skin and knowing that I get him so hard. I love it when he reaches around my back to undo my bra and then groans when he succeeds. I love it when he loses control and seizes me tightly, kissing me with sudden ferocity. I love the heat of his mouth and the way he trembles the instant he lets go and spills into my hand.
“Holy shit, honey,” he pants, still holding me close.
I wish he’d kiss me again but seconds later he seems almost embarrassed. He grabs a nearby roll of paper towels from a shelf, carefully wipes off my hand and then tactfully mops himself off before zipping up.
Now that we’re done I’m not sure what to say. A long moment of silence stretches out with Ben buckling his pants and me fastening my bra and zipping my dress. His sweatshirt is still folded up on the bench so I hand it over to him. He gives me a wry grin and pulls it over his head.
“It’s not true,” he says.
I miss the sight of his bare chest already. “What’s not true?”
He looks at me for a long time before answering. “Those stories about me hooking up with half the town. Sure, I have fun now and then but as for the mass orgies and the shades of lipstick on my dick, I don’t do that kind of shit. That’s not what I’m like.”
I can feel a smile trying to break through on my face. “I’m glad.”
“Hey.” He nudges my knee. “How are you getting home?”
“I was going to call my dad for a ride.”
“Could I walk with you instead?” He makes a face. “Sorry, I know it’s bitter outside. I’d drive you if I had a car.”
This time I don’t try to hide my smile. “I’d like to walk home with you. I don’t mind the cold.”
Ben checks all the locks and shuts off the rest of the lights before we leave through the main door. I’m mildly horrified when he sheepishly explains that he has no jacket because he left it behind at school and he doesn’t have another.
“You must be freezing,” I say, bundled up in my own down jacket.
He shrugs. “Nah.”
But when I take his arm in the hopes of transferring a little bit of warmth he doesn’t pull away. The walk to my house is not far but we take our time. We talk about Devil Valley. We talk about Black Mountain. Ben has a really wicked sense of humor and he skillfully mimics some of our more obnoxious classmates until I’m giggling uncontrollably. I don’t know why I never realized how funny he is.
We’re passing the bus stop when I confess to him that sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be one of the rich Black Mountain kids we go to school with. I bet life would be easier. It has to be.
Ben is real quiet after I say this. He tips his head back and stares up at the clear winter sky.
“Money doesn’t always make life easy,” he says and he sounds sad. He sounds like he knows what he’s talking about. “Sometimes it does the opposite.”
We walk in silence for an entire block but it’s not an uneasy silence. Cardinal Street is decked out with holiday lights and right now in the darkness it looks pretty.
“Do you have big plans for the holidays?” I ask him.
“Not really. Gonna work. Gonna sleep in. Gonna enjoy not taking the bus back and forth for a few weeks.”
“You won’t be visiting family or anything?”
“Nope.”
“We’ll drive out to Pennington to see my grandmother on Christmas day. She lives with her two younger sisters. That’s about the only family we have left.”
I wait for Ben to offer some information. He doesn’t.
I squeeze his arm. “Is it weird to say that there are so many things I want to know about you?”
He sighs. “No. But there are things I can’t tell you.”
“Ben.”
His voice sharpens. “You just need to trust me, Camden.”
“But-“
My words are cut off when Ben stops, pulls me close and covers my mouth with his. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and lose myself in the kiss, which isn’t hard. He’s an unbelievable kisser. He uses his tongue with abandon, slides his hands through my hair and gets close enough for me to feel all of him through our clothes. We kiss for minutes. Or maybe it’s hours. Nothing else exists during that kiss except the two of us.
When he finally breaks away he presses his forehead to mine and sighs.
“Do you understand?”
He’s telling me that in order to be in his life I’ll have to accept that there will always be a part of him that he will keep to himself. For a while I’ve thought that Ben Beltran is the keeper of many secrets and now I’m sure of it. And if I want him then I’ll have to surrender the idea of finding out what those secrets are.
I do want him. And so I need to try to trust him enough to do as he asks.
“I understand.”
“And you’ll trust me?”
“Yes.”
Ben walks me right to my front door. I hate the idea of sending him out into the freezing night alone and without a jacket.
“Ben, I’m sure my dad would drive you home. Come inside. I’ll ask him.”
“No, I’ll walk.” He pulls me in and kisses me once more. “Good night. And happy birthday.”
“Good night.” I’m holding onto him. I don’t want to let go. I’m afraid that the fragile magic of this night will be broken if I let go.
“I lied,” I whisper in his ear.
He backs up and looks at me funny.
I take a deep breath. “I lied when I said I don’t know if I like you. I think I might like you too much.”
Ben lets a smile shine through. This boy lights up the night when he smiles. “There’s no such thing as too much.” He drops a kiss on my forehead. “I like you too, Galway. A hell of a lot.”