She reaches for her drink again. “Benji. He’s into you.”
“No, no. He’s offering to help me out of a bind. Trust me, if you heard his sterile explanation of how I was a woman in need and he was capable of fulfilling that need, you would not say he was into me.”
“Oh yes, I would. No man offers to give a woman an orgasm out of the goodness of his heart. Usually it’s so they can talk you into more sexy things.” She shimmies her shoulders.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“But Benji is… I mean, he’s probably not lying. He knows what he’s doing. He’s had plenty of practice,” I mumble against the rim of my glass. “He did offer to go down on me instead if I preferred.” I pluck the neckline of my shirt and use it to fan my face. I’m suddenly hot. Vivian has a way of watching me like she’s KGB and I’m under a very, very bright lamp.
“He did not.”
“He did. I think he was joking. Why are you whispering?”
“Cristin—what’s your middle name?”
“Joy.”
“Aw, that’s pretty.” She smiles.
“Thanks.”
Her smile erases and she explodes, “Cristin Joy Gilbert! You and Benji circle each other like there’s an impenetrable forcefield between you. Now you’ve broken past the barrier and learned you have some serious untapped sexual chemistry.” She softens her voice. “This is your chance to explore it. Sounds like he’s willing to take your relationship to the next level.”
“Not the next level,” I correct. “He said after, we could go back to life like nothing happened. Tomorrow when I show up at his house for work, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Pretend he didn’t offer to…you know. And I’ll act as if he didn’t kiss me.”
“Mm-hm.” Her mouth is a firm line of disagreement. “And how well do you think that will work after last night?”
“I am positive it will work,” I fib. “As in one hundred percent positive,” I further fib. “Benji will be as relieved as I am for not taking him up on his offer to put his hands in my—”
The clearing of a throat draws my attention over the back of the couch where Nate has reentered the room. He gives me a pleading, earnest expression. “I implore you, Cris. Do not finish that sentence. Refill?”
Vivian dissolves into laughter.
I smile up at him. I’ve always liked Nate, but now I like him even more. I drain my glass and hand him the empty.
Other than thefirst time I met him, I can’t remember being truly uncomfortable around Benji. Well, aside from Saturday night. This morning isn’t looking so hot, either.
As usual, I arrive at seven thirty, park in his circle driveway, and grab the bag holding my laptop, planner, and other office necessities from my front seat. In my other hand are my keys and a travel mug of coffee. My keys, I always have. My travel mug, I always have but never fill at home. I make coffee at Benji’s. Today, I filled it at home. I didn’t want to risk lingering at the coffee pot until I was sure he was either downstairs working out, or entrenched in an important phone call.
Which means I’m already overthinking. Which means I probably should have called in sick. I thought about it. I did. But then I worried he might show up at my house and offer to nurse me back to health, and when he found I didn’t need to be nursed back to health might offer to do other things to me—which, as previously discussed, we are not doing.
I’m still team Bad Idea on the Cris-Benji pairing while Vivian, up until and through drink number two on Sunday, remained team Just Do It Already. Nate remained neutral. Or as Viv said, in denial.
I clear my throat, linger by the car, roll my shoulders, and stare at the front door.
The door is outfitted with a code, but Benji rarely locks it as his neighborhood is gated and luxe. Just driving past the rows of manicured lawns feels like entering a different town altogether. Where the sidewalks in front of my house are cracked with grass growing between the splits, there isn’t a weed that would dare grow outside of its sanctioned zone in this part of Clear Ridge.
I would be overwhelmed by his house if I hadn’t been to the Owen house multiple times while I worked for William or visited Lainey whenever I was invited to family affairs. I’ve been around them often enough that their regal lifestyle seems almost commonplace.
Not that I had time to be intimidated. I had way too much on my mind back then. Was Dennis passing algebra? Did the school nurse remember to give Timothy his antibiotic? Did Manuel forge my signature on his report card, or did he just not show it to me yet?
All of those issues were rattling around in my head in addition to appointment after appointment I had to keep track of. Work hours, conference calls, sports games, pickups, drop-offs… It wasn’t any wonder I ended up leaving college. School is expensive, and there wasn’t a lot of time left in the day to dedicate to studying in between grocery shopping, cooking, and helping Dennis with his algebra homework.
It also wasn’t any wonder how I ended up a thirty-year-old virgin. I was busy. Too busy to date, and when I did date, there wasn’t much room for intimacy. Once Manuel was off to college, I still had Dennis and Timothy to look after. And trust me, Dennis was a handful in his teen years. He’s twenty-one now and still a handful, but he’s not a big drinker, and enjoys the company of his girlfriend, Amara, who he’s dated for six months. She’s a good girl and has agreed to keep him out of trouble. God bless her.
I’m not completely inexperienced, though. I took matters into my own hands as needed. I’m not denying I’m a sexual creature with “needs,” as Benji called them. But involving someone else was a layer I didn’t have the luxury to explore back then. Basically, I put off my sexual needs until they morphed into a beast that grew bigger and scarier than it should’ve been.