Secondhand Boyfriends (12 page)

“I just want to take things slow,” he said. He reached over and cupped his hand over mine on the table. “I think you’re really cool, and I want to do this right.”

“I thought we were going pretty slow,” I replied as I yanked my hand out from under his. “You send a lot of mixed messages.”

“I know, I know,” he agreed. “I need to work on that. I’ve always rushed everything before and nothing’s ever worked out. I’m trying to do better this time.”

It was an honorable statement, and I had to believe him. I had to give him the benefit of the doubt. I’d only known him a short while, but he seemed like a guy worth putting up with until I could get him figured out.

A young woman brought us our meals and we began to eat. I ordered a tomato basil soup and half an Italian club.

“Look, Bennett,” I said between bites. “I just want you to know that I’m having fun with you, and I have zero assumptions and expectations as to where this is going or what we are.”

He looked relieved as a smile spread across his lips. He looked so damn sexy when he chewed his food. The way his dimples would flash when he chewed too hard and the way his full lips stayed perfectly pressed together.

“Want to come over this Friday?” he said. “We could hang out at my place. Something low-key?”

For a guy who wanted to take things slow, he was sure all about spending time with me on a regular basis.

“Sounds good to me,” I said with a grin.

“All righty,” he said with a nod. “Just plan on coming over at seven.”

We ate the rest of our meal, mostly in silence, and he ended up walking me back to my office since it was just right up the street.

It was another unusually gorgeous February day, right on the cusp of March, and there were plenty of birds chirping and little green buds on the trees that lined the busy street. We were definitely having an early spring.

“I’ll see you Friday,” he said as we stopped outside my building. He leaned in and gave me another peck on the lips. I so wished he’d give me a real kiss. A kiss with even an ounce of passion behind it would’ve been better than those piddly little pecks I kept getting.

By promptly seven o’clock on Friday night, I was standing at Bennett’s apartment door dressed in black leggings and a cream tunic, hair curled and lipstick intact. I’d been looking forward to our date ever since he asked me.

The door swung open and Bennett stood before me. He was still dressed in his slacks and button down from work, but I could smell something cooking behind him. A navy blue apron covered his clothes as he held a slotted spoon in his hand.

“Come in,” he said with a smile.

“Smells amazing in here,” I replied as I took a big whiff. “Did you make dinner?”

The apartment was a little dim, and soon my eyes were drawn to his dining room table. It was set with dinner plates and wine goblets and lit up by the flames of a few tall, white candles in the center piece.

“Wow, Bennett,” I said as I walked over to it. “Is this for us? For tonight?”

“Yep,” he said as he rushed back to the kitchen to tend to a beeping timer.

“Anything I can do to help you?” I asked while I lingered in the doorway.

He stirred a few pots on the stove before pulling some hunk of meat out of the oven, sprinkling it with some seasonings, basting it, and putting it back in.

“No, no,” he insisted. “Go have a seat in the dining room. I’ll be out in a bit.”

I shuffled over to the dining room and took a seat, staring at the gorgeous glow given off by the flickering candles. The food smelled amazing and I was growing hungrier by the second.

A few minutes later, he emerged with two plates full of what looked like roasted chicken and root vegetables along with some sort of fancy-looking biscuit.

“Wow,” I said as I took in the sights. It was nothing short of what you’d get at a five-star restaurant, presentation and everything.

He beamed proudly as he pulled out my napkin and placed it in my lap for me. He took a seat across from me.

“
Bon appétit
,” he said as he dug in.

The candles in the centerpiece took up such a large area that I didn’t have a direct line of vision with him. We couldn’t make lovey-dovey faces or googly eyes with each other, but maybe that’s how he wanted it. I could never be sure with him.

It was nice to have a man go to such lengths for me again. It was nice to have someone do something this thoughtful and special for no reason at all. This meant more to me than any text message or flower ever could.

“I’m so full,” I groaned as I took my last bite a little while later.

“I hope you saved room for dessert,” he replied from across the table.

“You made this big, elaborate dinner and you still had time to make dessert?” I laughed. “What are you, some sort of Martha Stewart protégé?”

“Ha,” he laughed. He stood up and took both of our plates to the kitchen. “No. I stopped and picked up a pie on the way home from work.”

“Well, you just had this all planned out, didn’t you?” I called out from my seat. I could hear him scraping the dishes and loading them into his dishwasher. I really wanted to help him clean up, but I knew he’d refuse.

“I got chocolate silk pie,” he called back. “Is that okay? Do you like chocolate?”

“Um, that’s like asking me if I like to breathe,” I replied.

I was tired of shouting from across the apartment, so I stood up and made my way to the kitchen where he was grabbing small plates and a pie cutter.

“Can we maybe go for a walk first?” I said. “Because I really, really want a piece of pie, but there’s literally no room in there right now.”

I patted my belly and pooched it out a bit.

He laughed. “Sure.”

He placed the pie back in the refrigerator and followed me to the front door. Luckily I had decided to wear flats that night, and they were comfortable flats at that. They’d be just fine for a nice, leisurely stroll around the neighborhood. I’d already put my feet through enough torture the past couple weekends.

Already a few days into March, things were really starting to warm up. We didn’t even need jackets. We walked side by side down the street together, discussing our weeks and talking about how good dinner was. Bennett confessed that it was the first time he’d made roast chicken, but his mom had coached him through it over the phone.

“That is the sweetest thing ever,” I said as I batted his arm. “Thanks for doing that. It was a lovely dinner.”

He grinned proudly as his dimples caught my eye once again. God, he had the most amazing dimples.

“I think I’ve got room for that pie now,” I said a half hour into our walk. “Shall we head back?”

We made our way back towards his place and climbed the stairs to the building. The moment we set foot inside, a giggling noise echoed through the wide halls and down the corridor.

We climbed another set of stairs to get to his door, both stopping in our tracks the moment we saw Ayla and Sam getting frisky outside of her apartment door. His hands were traveling up and down every inch of her body as she giggled and kissed his neck and ear.

I glanced over at Bennett who seemed mesmerized, frozen once again in her presence. He didn’t look happy, that much I could tell.

“Ahem,” Bennett said loudly. He was totally trying to make them stop.

Ayla whipped around, her brown hair falling over her shoulders in slow motion, and slowly stepped back from Sam. Sam’s hand still lingered on her hip. He looked annoyed at the interruption.

I couldn’t believe Bennett had done that. I would’ve been fine just ignoring them and hurrying into the refuge of his apartment. They never would’ve even seen us. It would’ve been fine. I thought we were having such a lovely night, too.

Bennett slipped his hands around my waist, pulling me closer to him. It was the first time he’d really touched me all night. Now he was acting like we were a couple or something. Were we? I was so confused.

“Ayla, Sam,” Bennett said as he stood next to me. He slipped his hands all the way around my waist, locking them together.

“We were just on our way,” Ayla said. “Come on, Sam.”

Ayla grabbed Sam by the hand. He didn’t even look at me. Not even once. They left the building in a hurry, practically running down the steps, and within seconds they were out of sight.

Bennett let us into his apartment, but by then I was seething.

“What the hell was that about?” I asked with my hands on my hips. I hoped I wasn’t being too girlfriend-y, but at that point I didn’t care.

“What do you mean?” He played dumb.

“Why’d you interrupt them?” I asked. “And then put your hands all over me. What kind of sick, twisted game are you trying to play?”

He shook his head, acting like he hadn’t the slightest clue what I was talking about, and kicked his shoes off.

“Want some pie?” he asked as he tried to change the subject.

I wondered if I was nothing more than a pawn to him. Maybe he did date Ayla before. Maybe he was in love with her. Maybe he was an obsessed fan. Maybe he was just using me to make her jealous.

I stood in his doorway, not bothering to remove my shoes. I wasn’t sure if I was even going to stay.

“Pie?” he asked as he nodded towards the kitchen.

“I should probably go home,” I said. “I think I have a headache or something.”

He stood dumbfounded as I flung the door open and slammed it behind me.

“What the hell, Claudia?” I said to her over breakfast Saturday morning. I’d gotten up early that morning, unable to think or relax enough to even sleep in. I sat out in the living room and waited for her to get back from Eric’s. The moment she walked in, I pounced on her and made her sit down and talk to me.

“Good morning to you too?” Claudia said, confused.

“I have to talk to you now,” I said. “It can’t wait. You’re never here anymore, and I don’t have anyone to talk to. You’re my voice of reason, and you’re never home.”

Claudia laughed. “Sorry?”

She took a seat next to me on the couch.

“Okay, calm down,” she said. “I assume this either has to do with Sam or Bennett?”

“Bennett,” I said. “I thought things were going so well, but he’s so hot and cold with me. He says he wants to take things slow, but then he makes all these plans with me and sends me flowers and stays over and makes me dinner.”

“Typical asshole guy. Just doesn’t know what he wants,” she said. “Maybe he’s stringing you along until something better turns up? No offense. Some guys do that, you know.”

Good old Claudia. I could always count on her to tell it like it was.

“Then why put all the effort into it?” I said. “It’s exhausting sometimes.”

“Maybe he likes you but he’s afraid to get hurt?” she proposed. “It could be anything. Why don’t you just ask him?”

“I have!” I practically yelled at her, though my anger was clearly misdirected. “He either plays dumb or he has an explanation for everything.”

Claudia pursed her lips. “Maybe you should just cut your losses and go your own ways. Why waste all this time with him if he’s so hot and cold?”

“Because I like him,” I said. “Aside from all the bullshit, I really like him. He’s a gentleman. He’s thoughtful. He’s smart. And he’s so fucking hot.”

Claudia threw a throw pillow at me. “Then why even ask for my advice?”

“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “I guess I just hoped you’d see it differently, maybe in a better light.”

“You’re asking the wrong girl,” Claudia laughed. “You know I don’t spin things that way.”

“I know,” I sighed, squishing the pillow into my lap. “Everything is always going so well between us until Ayla Giovanni is factored in. It’s like we run into her or we talk about her, and that’s when the fights happen. She’s the problem!”

“Yes, yes. Blame everything on Ayla,” Claudia said as she rolled her eyes. “Ayla stole Sam, and now she’s ruining your relationship with Bennett. Of course. It makes perfect sense.”

“No, I’m serious,” I said with big, round eyes. “If I bring her up or if I talk about how he acts all weird around her, we fight. He closes up. He changes the subject. He acts like I’m being ridiculous or something.”

“Ah, I see,” Claudia said. “There’s got to be something going on between them. They must have a history together. People don’t act that way around people they don’t personally know. You’d be naïve to think otherwise.”

“I know,” I said. “That’s what I was afraid of. But I’ve asked him, and he says he won’t talk about his past girlfriends. He won’t confirm or deny ever having been involved with her. How do I find out?”

“Straight from the horse’s mouth,” Claudia replied as she sat up straight. She handed me my phone that was sitting next to her on the coffee table. “Call Ayla. Ask her to coffee. Get the dirt from her. She has no reason to lie about it, right?”

My mouth went dry at the thought of going behind Bennett’s back and contacting Ayla to find out if they ever dated. I was encroaching upon crazy girlfriend style behavior, something I swore I’d never do, but I had to know. I had to find out.

“Would you do this?” I asked Claudia. “If it involved Eric?”

Claudia sat back for a minute and pursed her lips as she thought about it.

“Depends on how much I like the guy,” she said. “I like Eric a lot. I think I’d want to know.”

I reached over and grabbed my phone, fingers a little shaky, and texted Ayla asking if she wanted to meet up for coffee in a little bit. I threw my phone across the bed as soon as the message was sent. As much as I didn’t want to spend time with her, it was going to be the only way I’d find out what the hell was going on.

“What if Bennett finds out about this?” Claudia asked. “I mean, I think you should still do it, but what would you say to him?”

“That’s easy,” I said. “I’d tell him it was casually brought up in conversation.”

“Makes sense,” she replied. “Your phone just went off.”

Ayla had responded almost right away, and I was shocked.