Page 89 of Daring You

“I can do this, Ben. I’m emotionless for a living.”

“Then stop looking at me with doe eyes every time someone comes close to my past.”

My brows jump. “You’re talking about Mike noticing the picture on the laptop?”

“Yeah, that.”

“Fine. Maybe I’m a little green, seeming how I haven’t had a full day to process your secret identity.”

Ben’s shoulders slope down. “I know it’s hard. But I need you solid on this—”

“You have me.”

He searches my expression, both of us on opposite sides of the room, unwilling to be the first to step closer and show any weakness.

“I didn’t want to do this to you,” he says quietly.

“I’m the one who wouldn’t stop searching after all your warnings.”

“Yeah, but now I’m forcing you to lie to your brother. My friend. All of my friends, actually. Our family.”

Ben’s summarizes our hodgepodge group too accurately. They are family. What are we doing screwing with it by screwing each other?

“We’re keeping it from them for their own safety,” I correct him. “And, it turns out, I’m already lying to Locke. What’s another one?”

Ben’s throat bobs.

“I’m going to tell him tomorrow morning,” I say, softer. “Before work.”

He nods.

“I’ll, um, I’ll text you tomorrow and tell you how it goes,” I say.

“Yeah, then I’ll go talk to Locke.” Ben rubs a palm over his scruff. “Let him know that it’s nothing. We’re both consenting adults, but it won’t come to anything or mess up our relationship.”

What is our relationship? I want to ask. The pit in my stomach wants me to ask. “Okay. Yeah. It’s better not to team up against him, either.”

“Right.”

“It’s a plan, then. So…I’ll see you later.”

Ben moves to the front door, sliding on his jacket, but pauses in the foyer as he’s slipping on his boots.

“Are we good?” he asks.

I’ve never been so exposed, to him or to Mike, clad in a long sweater, with messy hair and a face devoid of makeup. I wish I had my glasses to draw the eye away from the scars on my cheeks. I wish I filled out this designer boyfriend sweater a bit better.

My attention strays to Ben’s arms, now covered with a winter coat. I can see them, anyway, despite all the layers—his scars are so much greater than mine.

“Yes, of course,” I reply to him.

“You sure? ‘Cause I know we…”

“It was good. Great, even.”

“Enough to try again?” he asks through a smirk, but it falls as soon as it comes.

Ben’s secrets. Mike’s threats. Those are not things mindless, adventurous sex can take away.

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