Page 39 of Crimson Promises
“When is it?”
“Maybe tomorrow night or next week?”
“Tomorrow works for me.”
“I’ll confirm the details and keep you posted.”
I suppressed the urge to clap my hands. Little does Ben know that we will be heading to Vic and Darlene’s for dinner. Kill two birds with one stone: get Vic off my back and subject Ben to his inquisition.
Could not wait to see him squirm.
I pushed the sleeve of my shirt up and checked the time.Shit, we have to get our ass in gear. “We probably should actually start working on the assignment. As much I’m enjoying making you uncomfortable, I don’t have much time left before I have to head out for work.”
The following two hours went by quickly. We sat facing each other across the small table, me with my legs crossed, laptop balanced on my knees, Ben with his legs crossed at the ankles on the lower platform of the table. The lunch crowd came and went. We focused on our respective tasks, agreeing on which argument we wanted to present and dividing subtasks for research and sources. Every once in a while, we exchanged comments, thoughts, and doubts regarding the legend of Hercules.
There was something reassuring about bouncing ideas off of him. He was much more worldly and knowledgeable than I had shamelessly judged him for.
“I have to go to work,” I announced, making a face. Untangling my limbs, I stretched my arms up high, relieving the cramp from sitting in the same position for hours inflicted on me. I could feel the hem of my shirt rising as I stretched, but I didn’t care. The release of tension felt too good—so good that a tiny moan slipped out at the release.
Bennett’s sharp intake of breath was audible. It possessed me to lean further into my stretch. I was pretty sure I heard him curse:Fucking yoga.
“I should start heading out, too,” he said.
“We made good progress today. Thanks for all your help.”
“Ditto.”
“I’ll text you later once I find out about that dinner. I never did ask when that movie is playing.” We had swapped numbers beforehand so we could arrange another time to flush out this assignment.
He sat up straighter. “Gotta check that one. Soon, I think.”
We finished packing up our stuff at the same time. I waved bye to Meg, and we headed outside. I pointed left in the direction of my place, “I’m thatta way.”
Ben pointed over his shoulder. “I’m the other way.”
“I guess I’ll talk to you soon.” An awkward pause engulfs both of us. Do I hug him? A handshake? Do I walk away? Before I could decide on the lesser evil, Ben chose for me.
He stepped forward and pulled me into a hug. His arms circled my neck, the rest on the handle of my backpack tangled in my hair. Resting his chin on my head, he pulled me flush against him. I wrapped my arms around his waist. I wanted to steal his henley and wear it to sleep.
Briefly, his finger traced the base of my skull, sending goosebumps pimpling their way down to my toes. Following his lead, I threaded my finger through his back belt loop and traced a B and an A on his lower back over his henley. An invisible brand marking him as mine—even though he wasn’t. With one tight squeeze, he slowly released me.
“See you around, friend.” He tossed out a wink.
I stood there for a few minutes, trying to track his movements, but eventually, he disappeared.
I rubbed the spot he traced and wondered what he wrote. A thrill rushed through me.
* * *
Fortunately, the day passed uneventfully. Replaying the details of mynon-datewith Bennett made my brain mush. When I handled a special edition book without gloves, Jean almost bit my head off. Luckily, Chelsea was not at work tonight, or else she would have used it as some strike to get me fired. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had a secret note dedicated to my mistakes on her phone. Since that first day, she has had it out for me. No amount of trying to be the bigger person changed that. She continued to act as though hiring me was a mistake, and once she had a case, she could convince Jean that she made an error. Maybe she was jealous that she didn’t work with the special collections. Who knows.
Any putrid thoughts of Chelsea were drowned out by my excitement about Bennett. My body refused to listen to the sound reasoning my mind presented to the court of Aurora. My feelings decided that they just want to throw all documentation with substantial rationale and logic in the air and say fuck it. Who cares? Let’s chase this rush.
I should have been replaying the date I had with Riley. But, no, instead I met someone who ignored me.
Oscillating between “he is dangerous” and “we should keep our distance” to “we need to have him now”, I sounded like Gollum. A glass of wine and some brainless shows were exactly what I needed to shut off these incessant thoughts.
Shit.I still haven’t responded to Riley’s message.
