Page 3 of Falling for the Forbidden
The night is exactly as it should be. We drink, dance, and flirt with a group of guys who spend most of the night buying us drinks. I forget about what’s on the horizon and just enjoy being eighteen while I still can.
We don’t stumble back to Danni’s house until almost dawn, and we sleep until well past lunch.
Her mum takes pity on our fragile states when we eventually emerge from Danni’s bedroom and makes us bacon sandwiches to help cure our hangovers. Sadly, it doesn’t even take the edge off mine.
I’m still feeling the effects of the previous night’s over-indulgence and lack of sleep when I push the key into the lock of my new home later that day. The driveway’s empty when the taxi drops me off, aside from my car, and the house is empty. Rolling my eyes, I slip my flip-flops off then carry them and my overnight bag up to my room.
* * *
I spendwhat’s left of the day hiding in my room, watching films. I’ve no desire to venture downstairs and put on the act everyone else seems to. I can hear Dad and Jenny talking in the distance and eventually they come up to bed before the sound of their voices fades away.
I just start to drift off when the sound of the doorbell startles me. I wait to hear if there’s going to be any movement, but other than the echo from the ringing, it stays silent.
My curiosity gets the better of me and I walk to the window to see if they’re still at the door.
When I don’t see anyone, I go to drop the curtain and get back in bed, but something catches my eye at the last minute. Someone is slumped in front of the house. I don’t need to use too much brainpower to figure out that it’s Ben.
Grabbing the hoodie I left hanging over the chair by the window, I pull it on and make my way down to rescue him.
“Ben?” He doesn’t move or show any signs that he’s aware of my presence. “Ben?” I say a little louder, but it’s not until I bend down and give his shoulder a shake that I get any response.
“Yeah? What?” His voice is slurred and rough.
“Let’s get you inside. Can you stand?”
“Of course I can fucking stand. I don’t need your help,” he snaps, trying to push himself up from the floor and falling straight back down.
“Oh, really?” I can’t help but laugh at him. When he looks up at me, his face is hard, but his eyes show his own amusement. Maybe he’s not quite as drunk as I first thought.
With the help of the wall, he stands to his full height. He towers above me at well over six feet tall, making me feel tiny. I’m not sure how much help I’ll be, but I wrap my arm around his waist anyway.
A jolt of electricity shoots through me at our contact, and I immediately feel his eyes staring down at me.
Refusing to look up and acknowledge whatever just sparked between us, I focus on getting him inside.
“I really am okay,” he says, his voice suddenly sounding much steadier than only moments ago. “You don’t need to look after me.”
“I’m just looking out for you.”
“Why? No one else bothers.”
My heart drops at his words. I’m saddened that what I experience in this house is his life. At least I have my mum at the other end of the phone if I need an ear to listen or a shoulder to cry on.
“I—”
Ben places large hands on my shoulders and turns me to look at him. A similar sensation rushes through me as it did when I first touched him.
I expect him to snap again. It seems to be his go-to defence mechanism whenever I’ve attempted to get close to him in the past, so I’m surprised when his eyes soften. “Thank you,” he whispers.
Just when I think that maybe we’re getting somewhere, his features harden once again, his mask goes back on, and he turns away from me.
He only makes it up two stairs before he falls flat on his face.
Silently laughing at his drunken state, I once again go to help him. To my surprise, he allows me to attempt to get him up the stairs, although I’m pretty sure he’s just humouring me.
We come to a stop at his bedroom door. I remove my arm from around his waist and go to step away, but my breath comes out in a rush when I’m forcefully pulled back to him. My breasts press against his chest, and his heat burns through the fabric between us.
“Is that hoodie your boyfriend’s?”
