Page 29 of We Were Something
“Just try to think about it like this: if youareinterested in something happening with him, whether it’s a steamy fling or something long-term—”
“It wouldn’t be long-term,” I say on a huff. “And you know that.”
She throws a hand up. “Whatever it is,” she continues, “try to think about where he’s coming from and…I don’t know. Tone it down a bit.”
I sink into my chair a little more. “What do you mean?”
Lennon rubs her lips together and puts the cap on the tube. “Well, you look at men mostly as penises to have fun with until the clock runs out. Maybe it’s finally time to shift your mentality.Maybe focusing primarily on the physical aspect isn’t going to work for our sexy doctor.”
“But allyoudid with Lucas was go to bed with him,” I say, trying to understand her logic.
“Yeah, and how healthy was that?” she shoots back, her words suddenly turning tight and uncomfortable.
Lennon pauses for a minute, looking out the window at Ben’s cute house.
“Look, I’m not trying to judge you, okay? I wouldnever.Every relationship is different. I did things I shouldn’t have done in my effort to get Lucas’ attention. Everything worked out in the end, but it very easily couldnothave if I hadn’t realized I needed to do something different, needed to value myself as more than just a plaything.”She shakes her head and lets out a long sigh.“But this isn’t about me. I’m just trying to say that if you reallyareinterested in him, take a cue. He might be the first guy in your entire life who isn’t looking at you simply as a walking sexy toy. Maybe that should guide how you interact with him. That’s all I’m saying.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and nod, Lennon’s words repeating in my mind as we climb out of her car and walk up to the front door of Ben’s house.
Maybe she has a point. Not that there is anything wrong with being sexually assertive, or even sexually aggressive, as long as both parties are on board.
If it’s something that ruffles him, that somehow makes him uncomfortable—even though he tried to claim that wasn’t the case when I visited him a few days ago at the hospital—I should temper that reaction a bit.
Just a smidge.
As much asIthink it’s funny to talk about foot size and imply that I’ve been contemplating the size of his manhood, if hedoesn’tlike it, well…that’s not what I want. I certainly wouldn’t want it in the reverse, that’s for sure.
And even though I normally just prefer short flings with men that are strictly physical, there couldn’t be any harm in alongerfling with a man like Logan. Right? Especially if we actually get to know each other somewhat, which I hate to admit I wouldn’t exactly mind.
For whatever reason.
Without knocking, Lennon opens the front door, calling out a greeting. Then we both follow the hallway that leads from the door back to a kitchen that opens up into a massive living room.
“Hey, ladies. Come on in.”
Ben smiles at us from where he’s standing behind the island in the kitchen, pouring a glass of wine.
“Glad you could make it.”
“Sorry we’re a little late,” I say, lifting a shoulder and giving him a coy look. “This look takes time to put together.”
He chuckles and nods. “Len, Lucas is in the back yard with everyone else.” Then he strides over and holds out a glass of white wine to her. “In case you wanted to know.”
Lennon smiles. “Am I that easy to read?” she asks.
Ben chuckles. “Not really. I just know Remmy’s the first personIlook for in a room.”
Lennon bites her lip and nods her head then shuffles off in the direction of where two huge sliding doors have been pushed aside, creating an indoor-outdoor feel between the living room and the patio, the silhouettes of our friends undulating in and out of shadow as they congregate around a table with a fire pit in the center.
As Lennon heads out and Ben returns to the island to pour another drink, I can’t help but allow my eyes to peruse the open space. The house itself is modern, with that kind of Scandinavian minimalism that’s all the rage right now and a very clean, white feel. Here and there are pops of color and warmth. Artwork on the walls. Photos and candles on shelves. Bits of antique beachy décor scattered throughout.
Something tells me those touches are less Ben and more Remmy, that innate desire to nest likely creating in her a preference for a home that’s welcoming for more than just the baby who will be joining our group in a few short months.
“What can I get you to drink, Paige?” Ben asks. “We have cab, merlot, zin, a few kinds of liquor, too.”
I open my mouth, prepared to ask for a gin and tonic, when a warm, familiar voice pipes up from behind me.
“She’s really into top-shelf gin.”
