The very next second, a cop appears at Ben’s window, giving it that all-familiar tap-tap-tap with his flashlight.
Ben rolls down the window. “Hey there, Louie.”
“Benjamin Gage! Well, I’ll be.” The cop laughs heartily. “The heck you doing in this part of town at this time of night? About to fly back home or something?”
“Client,” Ben answers simply, offering a smile. “They have you on the late shift now?”
Oh my God. He knows the cop??
“Yep. It’s pretty damned quiet tonight, to be honest. I didn’t recognize your rental. You pull over to take a call?”
Ben—his phone already out with impressive speed—gives it an innocent wiggle. “Don’t drive and text, they say.”
“Good, good. I’ll leave you to it.” The cop—Louie—leans down a foot more, his eyes meeting mine. I give him an anxious, tight, toothy smile and a wave. He acknowledges it with the tiniest of nods, an awkward twist of his expression, and then he nods at Ben. “Have a safe flight home, Mr. Gage.”
“And you, a safe night keeping this city clean,” returns Ben.
The cop saunters back to his car, and soon, the red-and-blue circus of lights vanishes, traded for the soft moonlight of before. The hum of the cop car races past us, and then we’re alone again.
But we’ve changed. The sexiness from just a moment ago is gone. My heart races for a different reason. Have I pushed myself too far tonight? What is going on in my head? We’ve taken a flight to a strange city. We have met with and threatened a pompous teenage kid and taken his phone. And we’ve almost been arrested for entertaining the idea of fellatio in a car near an airport.
I hear my mother’s scolding voice in my head. I see my dad’s disapproving eyes. I see Elijah hanging his head and wondering who the hell his best friend is. I’m wondering the same thing.
This isn’t me.
“You’re pretty freaked out,” Ben notes.
“No shit,” I retort snappily.
He studies me for a moment. I feel his eyes burning into the side of my face. It shouldn’t turn me on, not while I’m having this miniature existential crisis going on in my head, but I can’t help the draw I feel toward Ben’s strength. I need him to say the exact right thing to me right now, but I have no idea what it is, or if I’ll even know it when I hear it.
“I had a different vision for tonight,” Ben tells me.
I close my eyes, shutting out the world.
Ben goes on. “I just wanted you in my apartment sharing a hot meal with me. Then I was hoping we’d … just hang out in front of the TV, maybe relax on my couch, and get to know each other some more. No pressure. No … chasing teens across California.”
For some reason, I was expecting his “different vision” to include bending me over the kitchen counter. I feel something stirring in me at the deliberate omission of any such raunchiness from his vision, to my surprise.
I think it’s my heart warming. Except it feels a bit like my stomach doing a proud somersault, turning over whatever little bit of that delicious Italian food we had hours ago before our dinner was interrupted by all this rousing celebrity drama.
“G-Get to know each other some more?” I prompt him, my eyes still closed.
“Yes, Trevor. I want to know everything about you.”
My eyes flap open at the soft, sincere tone in his words. I dare to turn to him, then melt at the sight of his shining eyes and fierce expression. It stabs me right where it counts, right in the chest, right where I’m feeling all that fear and anxiety and terror.
And he replaces all that mess with a calm, rich, needed feeling. The feeling you get when you’re chosen for a team in gym class. Or when you see your name on that cast list for a play. Or when the boss singles out that one intern—you—and commends your good, hard work.
“I … felt a different impression from you,” I tell him. “Judging from the way you attacked me before your officer friend Louie interrupted us.”
Ben tilts his head, appraising me. “Well …”
“I mean, I know you want my nuts.” I try to smile. It comes off a little fake, even to me. “Maybe I’m worried that’s all you want.”
Ben throws an arm over the back of his seat, facing me better. “I’m not going to lie, Trevor. You make me crazy. I am attracted to you. Badly. I don’t even see you as …” He gestures at me with his hand and a slight nod. “… as a twenty-year-old. You have an old soul. You have a brain in that head of yours. I really like that about you. And while sometimes it’s hard to contain my desire when we are alone, I … also want to know who you are inside.”