Me:Only, you know, without the flashing blues.
Bennett:Wouldn’t dream of it.
Bennett:Six tomorrow morning it is, then.
Bennett:Get some sleep. Please don’t drink too much tonight.
Me:Wouldn’t dream of it.
Me:See you tomorrow morning.
Me:I’ll have a shirt on this time.
He never responded after that, but I was fine with it. I accomplished my mission, my most critical mission. Martini finished, head twirling in a whirlpool of satiation, I danced to the bathroom and brushed my teeth with a giddy flourish. Visions of Bennett flashed in my mind’s eye. I updated old memories with his present appearance. The way the new cut of his blond hair would fall as we lay atop the red clovers along the river. Would he urge me to go deeper like he did our first time? Rotate his hips upward and rest his thigh on my shoulder again?
Did he have many lovers after me?
After he broke your heart? After he cut off communication?
No. Those thoughts were unwanted. I shoved them out, cast them from my mind in the name of elation, in the name of Bennett and this newfound curiosity that grew between us.
I finished up in the bathroom and dropped into my bed. Checked my phone in case Bennett sent a goodnight text. Nothing—but again, I didn’t mind. I reread our entire conversation twice before sleep begged me to close my eyes.
I obeyed, dutifully, willingly. In a few hours, I’d have someone at my door.
ChapterFive
THEDOORTOmy mother’s bedroom closed with a soft click. She had been awake, drowsy, but alert. I told her Rachel would be at the house in a few hours and to let me know if she needed anything. My list of chores the day before had included purchasing a short-range paging system. All my mother had to do was press a call button on her nightstand and the receiver I kept on me would chirp to let me know she needed something.
The sixth hour of the morning was fast approaching. Still on West Coast time, my body protested when I woke up at what it considered the middle of the night. Bennett was on his way for coffee, but I had already pulled a shot from the fancy machine, if only to jolt my body awake. My mind had spun through every interaction scenario possible, from the over-the-top fantasy where Bennett strips naked in the kitchen and we bang it out on the island, to a nightmare where he tells me off in person.
For both, I prepared by showering and wearing a nice pair of jeans, wool socks I had picked up the day before, and a slate gray V-neck shirt that showed off my chest and arms. Coiffed my hair with enough product to take a headshot. Trimmed the beard. Thoroughly brushed my teeth and mouthwashed. I held back on the expensive designer cologne Deacon had gifted me last Christmas. (Yes, for whatever reason, I had packed it, along with four of my favorite watches.) I’d save it for a date. If we went on one.
Whenwe went on one. I had the confidence of a seasoned director on the set of a sequel. Round two. But hold the heartbreak.
I bided the remaining minutes of five o’clock by arranging fruit in a bowl at the center of the kitchen island. It would not be past me to place the banana and apples in a distasteful array, if only to get a rise out of someone. But maturity got the better of me. I reviewed the selection of pods for the coffeemaker, making an inventory so I could reference each when making Bennett a cup. Verified there was milk, cream, half-and-half, and three types of sweeteners available. I checked the fullness of the sugar bowl; the sight reminding me of the text that came in the middle of the night from my agent. A coke-fueled, spitting decree of my incompetence. Followed immediately by apologies and a brief history of how fucked up he was. There may have been a text summarizing some of his daddy issues.
Ah, Hollywood.
My phone chirped at five past six. I had the text open before the chime finished its tone.
Bennett:Here.
I jogged to the front door and took a moment to center myself before opening it up. I gave a quick pep talk in my head, looked over the front of my body to make sure nothing looked off, like a low fly or inside-out pocket. Checked my breath for the tenth time. Pulled open the door…
No one. I had an easy smile on my face that quickly lowered as I stepped out into the chilly morning air. I craned my neck to look at the driveway to my right and saw the tailgate of the cruiser.
Other door, you idiot.
I shut the front door and made double time back to the entrance I typically used. It was also the door I brought Bennett through during our summer together. He had known better than to go to the front and instead always waited for me on the porch of the side entrance. Almost like it was our spot.
Our spot. Like the riverside. Back seat of the T-Bird.
I yanked open the door. Bennett stood with his side facing me, thumbs hooked into the belt of his uniform. He turned his head, blue eyes as brilliant as a cloudless sky in summer. His hair looked freshly combed, though he sported a bit of stubble on his chin and upper lip. I had the scantest of moments to take him in, to really appreciate how much he filled out his uniform. All muscle, no fluff. A gymnast’s body.
I held up my hands in fake surrender. “I swear, she told me she was eighteen.”
A snorted laugh exploded from Bennett’s nose as his face broke into the biggest smile. God hit the Pause button for me then, the image burning into my brain. His dimples came fully out, two big craters marking his cheeks as he flashed twin rows of straight, white teeth.