Outside the Lines (Rebel Hearts #1) (17 page)

“In the end, not at all. I have a buddy who took years paying off his wedding. The credit card debt almost ended their marriage.”
 

“Yikes. It’s just not worth it. I want to get married because I’m in love and don’t want to spend the rest of my life without that person, not because I want a fancy party.”
 

“Me too,” Ben says. “I don’t have many requests for my wedding, whenever it happens. Just an open bar and
All the Single Ladies
is not to be played.”
 

I laugh. “Agreed. And no
Sexy Back
. Why are those two older songs go-tos for DJs?”

“I am okay with the chicken-dance song.”
 

“Oh, you have to have the chicken dance.” I laugh then realize we just discussed something mega important in a way that felt completely natural. We turn our attention back to the game, playing for another few minutes before Ben’s mom calls again. With a sign he sets his controller down and answers it.
 

“Hey, Mom,” he says then falls silent as he listens. I hear a female on the other end, talking fast—too fast for me to understand. Then Ben stands, saying something in Japanese, grabs the empty pizza box, and goes into the kitchen. I finish the round and stop the game. I can hear Ben talking to his mom, and although he’s speaking a different language, it sounds like he’s trying to calm her down. A minute later, he hangs up and comes back into the room, eyebrows pushed together.
 

“Everything okay?” I ask, taking his hands in mine as he plops onto the couch.

“Yeah,” he says, but sounds distracted. “My mom can be a little high strung sometimes. She’s a worrier over small things.”
 

“I can relate,” I say with a smile. I let go of Ben’s hands and gather the empty beer bottles, taking them into the kitchen. “Do you recycle?” I ask, feeling the floor vibrate behind me as he comes into the room.
 

“Yeah,” he repeats and pulls out a drawer that holds both the garbage and the recycling. “Thanks.
 
You didn’t have to do that.”
 

“It was easy,” I say. “Can I have some water?”
 

“Of course.” He grabs a glass and fills it from the fridge. I down half in seconds. He lets Harumi out, stepping onto the porch. He seems upset, like whatever his mother called about really is weighing on him more than he’s letting on. I finish the water, go into the bathroom to pee, then go out on the back porch with him. He’s sitting on the steps, throwing a worn-out tennis ball for the old dog.
 

I take a seat next to him. Ben wraps an arm around me, holding me tight against him for a few seconds before he speaks.
 

“It’s a nice night.”
 

“Very nice,” I say. “I love summer nights like this. It makes me want to move somewhere warm where it’s always like this.”
 

“Hah, yes. Winter is coming sooner than we think.”
 

“Winter is coming,” I repeat, mentally smiling at his unknown reference. Harumi brings the ball back, her gait a slow trot. I reach forward and grab it, throwing it a few yards. I don’t want to make her run too far. “I’m so not looking forward to shoveling my driveway or clearing snow off the car when I leave work.”
 

“When it’s really bad sometimes I don’t leave the house,” Ben says.
 

“A man after my own heart,” I joke. “I don’t mind winter, I mean, I grew up here so I’m used to it. But when it drops below twenty-five, I want to throw in the towel and hibernate.”
 

He nods then flashes that grin. “I don’t go to the gallery when it’s bad. And by bad I mean snowing or really cold.”
 

“Lucky.”
 

“I can work from home, so it’s not a total day off.”
 

“Still lucky.”
 

“If you could work from home, what would you do?”

“Does it have to be a legit job, or can I get paid for just not destroying the world?”

His fingers slide down my shirt, inching the hem up. “Other than being paid to do nothing, what would you do?”

I shake my head. “I don’t really know. Come up with video games?”

He laughs. “That’s like doing nothing.”
 

“Hey now. A lot more work goes into that than you’d think. I’m sure I’d love almost every second of it, but it’s not like sitting down and playing.”
 

He nods. “I’m sure. I consider myself computer savvy, but I know there is more to it than I can even think of.”
 

“There is. Which is why I like it, and the field of technology is always expanding. It’s limitless and always challenging. What’s new and impressive now won’t be in five years. Hell, it won’t be in one year. And I love that.”
 

“I am jealous of your phone,” he says.
 

“Good, you should be. There are a few kinks to be worked out, but I like it much better over the current version.”
 

“It doesn’t come out until next fall, right?”

“Right. I might be able to score you a beta. Might is the keyword there though. I can try to pull some strings.”
 

“You don’t have to if it’s a hassle.”
 

“Nah,” I say and nudge him. “You’re worth it.”
 

The smile returns to his face. “Glad you think so.” His other arm goes around me, and before I know it, we’re kissing under the stars. Though, it’s not as romantic as it sounds, since mosquitoes and moths are buzzing and flapping around the porch light a few feet behind us.
 

Ben swats them away and takes his tongue out of my mouth. “Want to go inside and upstairs?” he asks. “I’m getting eaten alive.”
 

“Me too.” He stands and pulls me to my feet. “Maybe you can eat me alive once we’re inside,” I say it casually like a joke, but really, I’d love for him to go to down town on me again. He’s quite good.

He gets that I’m-gonna-fuck-you glint in his eyes and wets his lips. “I think that can be arranged.”
 

He calls in Harumi, who lazily runs over and jumps up the steps. Ben gives her a pet and opens the door, swatting at the bugs to keep them from coming inside with us. I fill my glass with water as he puts a scoop of food in Harumi’s bowl and locks up for the night.
 

I get a few gulps down before Ben’s arms clasp around my waist. I set the glass down and spin around to face him.
 

“Did I tell you, you look beautiful tonight?” he asks softly.
 

“You did, but I don’t mind hearing it again.”
 

His lips brush against mine, and a shiver runs down my spine. My eyes close and my breasts crush into him. “You’re beautiful.”
 

I run my hand through his hair, growing wet as he grows hard. He turns his head and kisses my neck as his hands drop to my waist, sliding forward and unbuttoning my jeans.
 

We never make it upstairs.
 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Somebody looks happy,” Mariah says to me at work Monday morning. A week has passed since Ben and I strolled the Statue Garden, and I stayed the night at his place. “Did you meet a boy?” Her eyes practically light up at the thought. She might live vicariously through other people’s love lives.
 

“I am happy and yes,” I say. “A very nice, handsome boy.” I lean across the small aisle. “One who knows how to please a woman. Multiple times.”
 

Her hand flies to her chest. “I remember those days. Enjoy them while they last,” she only half jokes and gives me a wink. “I’m happy for you. Is he going to be your date for the wedding?”

My heart skips an actual beat. I’d voiced my “always being seated at the single table” woes to her during the week, but hadn’t brought up Ben. I didn’t want to talk about this amazing man only to have him ghost away from me. But after the last two weeks, I’m pretty sure he’s not ghosting anywhere anytime soon. Or at least I hope not.
 

Ben made me breakfast in bed yesterday morning. We spent the whole day just lounging around, watching TV, talking, and making lame jokes we both found to be hilarious. Oh, and we had sex a few more times that day. Our goodbyes got longer and longer, words mixed with kisses and cuddles.
 

He doesn’t want to leave. I don’t want him to leave. It is like a high school romance where you can’t get enough of the other. But that’s how I feel. I can’t get enough of him. I’m comfortable around him. I’m myself. I don’t want to be anyone else when we’re together.
 

Being me—and probably being a realist—that dark cloud looms in the distance. We’re not exclusive. Nothing has been said, nothing has been promised or put off limits. He let me know from the start he goes out with other women.
 

Who am I to be the one to make him settle down?
 

I’m not. I’m just me, just little miss weird Felicity, a blunt nerd with occasionally poor social skills. After a long talk with Erin last night, she convinced me to enjoy what’s going on and let it go from there. I can’t control everything. I can’t key in commands like a computer and use hacks and cheats at life.
 

“I haven’t asked him yet,” I confess. “I’ve got time,” I say mostly to convince myself. I don’t see why he wouldn’t go with me. It’s just one night and it’s not that far, plus there is an open bar with top-shelf liquor. And cake. Awesome cake, made by my best friend, I should add.
 

“Yeah,” Mariah agrees. “You do.” Her eyes flick to the office door. Someone from corporate is doing an office visit today, and Cameron is going nuts over it, texting me how freaked he is when he gets the chance. He asked me to go out for drinks with him after work, like the minute we clock out.
 

I was hoping to see Ben again, but agree to drinks anyway. Maybe he can join us. He said he’d text or call me when he got done at the gallery today, whenever that is. I can’t get him out of my mind, and for the first time since I started at this place, I don’t finish my assigned work early.
 

The big wigs leave an hour before the office starts to shut down for the day, and the air is immediately less tense. I go back and forth between my work and Facebook, messaging some of my online friends to chat about random things.
 

I do twenty minutes of actual work, then switch back to Facebook to creep on Ben’s profile. He accepted my friend request not long after we met, and rarely updates anything. Lame. I need to creep, mister. He gets tagged in events and by other galleries, but nothing that sheds light on his social life. He does post a lot of his art to Instagram, and has an impressive amount of followers.
 

I’m about to switch to Pinterest when the little friend icon notifies me I have a request. I click on it and almost shit my pants.
 

Mindy fucking Abraham.
 

My mouse hovers over “delete request” but I stop myself. I’d rather just ignore it, or not let her know friending me on Facebook is a big deal. Because it shouldn’t be. It’s fucking Facebook and I’m a fucking adult.
 

Like an evil force has taken over my body, I accept her request. But it’s not because I want to creep through yet another profile. Everything was set to private before, though it isn’t hard to get around that. I click on her profile then close my eyes.
 

Nope. Not doing it. I already know how she will come across. Picture perfect. So picture perfect that it will make me wallow inside, wishing my teeth were that white, or my skin that clear. I’ll be jealous of her fake breasts, even though my real ones are better than hers. Just heavier, sweatier I’m sure, and slightly saggier.
 

But they felt better?
 

Yeah, sure. I can go with that. Instead of looking at her perfectly posed pictures of her perfect family, I unfollow her and exit out of the Internet. I should work. I’m at work, after all, and the day is almost over.
 

*

“So, give me deets,” Cameron says as we munch on chips and drink margaritas.
 

“We did dinner Friday night, saw a movie Saturday afternoon, then spend that night and Sunday just hanging out, playing video games and watching TV. Super laid back, but super enjoyable. And we fucked several times, of course.”
 

One of Cameron’s eyebrows goes up. He looks at his drink and grabs another chip, dipping it in salsa.
 

“What?” I ask.
 

“Oh nothing,” he says and flicks his wrist.
 

“Bullshit. What?”
 

He lets out a breath and looks at me, expression soft like he’s going to break bad news. “Nothing is exclusive yet, right?”
 

“Nothing’s been said.”
 

“And he still dates other women?”

“Not that I know of, but I mean, if we haven’t voiced the whole only see each other thing, then he can, right?”

Cameron nods. “Honey, I love you. You know that. I don’t want to see you to get hurt. I’m saying this out of love.”
 

My heart sinks into my stomach. Good thing there is a decent amount of tequila in there for it to float in. “Saying what?”

“You stay in. Play video games. Drink beer and eat pizza. You’re one of the guys.”
 

My eyebrows go together. “But we have sex. Frequently.”
 

“All men would fuck their best friend if they had a vagina.”
 

“You think I’m just friend material?”
 

“I’m not saying that’s all you can be. I’m just saying it sounds like that’s what Ben is doing. He still hasn’t taken you to his fancy art shows?”

“No, but—” I clamp my mouth shut. I’m not making excuses for Ben. If that really is the case and he’s using me for fuck-able guy time, then I feel more violated than a cucumber at an all-women’s prison. I gulp my margarita. “So, what do I do?”