Chapter Seventeen
Benji
You know how when you’re excited about an upcoming event you can’t concentrate on anything else? Like Christmas, or those great seats behind home plate?
Tonight’s like that. Multiplied by a thousand.
At this point, I’ve surmised the fundraiser might never end. I’m regretting coming to it. Or at the very least, regretting making tonight the night I divest Cris of her virginity. Why didn’t I pick an evening during which we had control of the timeline?
Super fail.
While I’m tempted to blow off the remainder of this tedious event, a sense of duty keeps my feet rooted to the floor. Dad and Mom are here, and my brothers. There was a photo op earlier, by the way. We posed together in front of a backdrop with the Heart-to-Teen logo printed on it while camera flashes blinded us. Cris watched from behind the photographer, unvarnished pride gleaming in her eyes. She’s the best.
I’m still pissed off at Marla. She had no right to slither over and claim me, which is a nice way of saying she behaved like a presumptuous bitch. Has she always been that way and I’ve been blind to it? My gut answers with a stern yes and I know I only have myself to blame. In the past I’ve rewarded those sorts of antics. What can I say? When my dick is running the show, I make bad decisions.
Tonight I’m the one in charge. Not that I have to delude myself when it comes to Cris. There’s no reason to worry our evening together won’t turn out exactly how I planned. I smirk, preferring this line of thought to the previous one. So I’ve made a few mistakes of the female variety in the past. It doesn’t mean I can’t learn or grow.
Cris is chatting up an old guy in a suit, her smile warm and genuine. Damn but she is wearing that dress, isn’t she? She’s been blessed with a hell of a lot more patience than me. I can’t let her have too much more champagne, though. Her conking out after one orgasm isn’t going to inspire a salacious Dear Diary entry. We need to get out of here pronto. Or faster than pronto, whatever word that would be.
“Tonight’s the big night.” Vivian materializes at my side, the picture of a woman who has drunk too much champagne. She’s not sloppy, just giggly. Which is adorable on her, as she’s not the giggly type.
She was doing her best to be unapproachable the first time I met her at Nate’s house. I invited her to brunch with our family, unsure if he was going to or not. She looked surprised and didn’t quite know how to respond. Luckily, she agreed and came with us. She met the whole family that day. I could tell she was nervous. At the time I had no idea she was Walter Steele’s daughter, but as I got to know her I understood why she was protective of her identity. Her dad was a piece of work.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I take a sip of my water. I abandoned the scotch after my second glass, not wanting to dull a single one of my senses tonight. I wasn’t kidding when I told Cris I would remember everything. I’m going for a record on snapping mental photographs. I’ll keep them tucked away in a private album for years. Mine, mine, all mine. My first mental photo? That luscious red dress. I’m going to take a hell of a lot more after we escape this endless shindig. I don’t want to miss anything.
“I didn’t tell Nate. Or anyone,” Viv stage-whispers. “Cris and I were chatting about it earlier. I am really excited for you.”
“You are?”
She nods, her grin wonky and adorable.
My chest puffs at hearing Cris was sharing details with Vivian, but I cover with, “It’s a favor. She’s a good friend.”
“You can’t believe that’s true. That there’s nothing else underneath the attraction other than her need to be rid of her pesky virginity?” She whispered that last word, but I peek around at the crowd anyway. No one appears to have overheard, which is a good thing. I’m sure Cris wouldn’t appreciate her secret being advertised.
“We know who we are. That’s what matters.” There’s nothing complicated about sex for me. There never has been. It’s a way to have a release, reclaim the happiness and joy that eluded me as a kid. I lost my virginity at age seventeen, which might be young in retrospect, but I’m glad for it. Having sex was like discovering a new world. I had somewhere to go that wasn’t mired in grief. I was granted a much-needed break from constantly trying to fit in with a family that wasn’t really mine and none of whom looked like me. Plus, I was a nerdy kid. A mathlete. Thank God Will pushed me to play sports. Soccer put me in the same circles as the jocks, which kept me from being shoved into my locker on a daily basis. Turns out nerdy kids with decent physiques have no trouble winning the girl.
“You’d better not run her off. I love her.” Vivian pushes her bottom lip into an exaggerated pout.
“Cris isn’t going anywhere. We talked about it. We’re not going to suddenly not be friends. I’m teaching her how to be treated well.” The guys she dates in the future better step the fuck up. God knows those dopes from the dating app can’t tell caviar from Rice Krispies.
“Well I, for one, am glad she doesn’t have to lose her virginity the way most women do—to someone with zero skill who didn’t deserve it.” She grips my forearm and regards me earnestly. “I’m glad she chose you. It’s a big responsibility and you won’t let her down.”
Is she trying to put extra pressure on me? Don’t get me wrong. I’m fantastic in bed. I’m great at giving and pleasing. Her vote of confidence adds steel to my spine. I cannot fuck this up.
“Have you ever taken someone’s…” She looks around furtively before deciding not to finish that sentence the way she’d originally planned. “Have you ever been someone’s first?”
“No, but I remember my first time. I felt like an idiot. I’m sure I felt that way my second and third time too. Luckily, I knew the secret to becoming really good at something.” I give her a grin. “Practice, practice, practice.”
“What is my brother telling you? He looks full of shit.” Nate slings an arm around Vivian’s neck and kisses her temple. “Actually, he always looks like that, so never mind.”
“Oh, just our usual chitchat at these boring-ass things. Can we leave now?” She exaggerates her request by sagging under the weight of his arm. “Please?”
On this, she and I are on the same page. “What a great idea, Viv. We can leave Archer here to handle anything Owen-related.”
“Archer is busy with future prospects.” Nate tips his head toward the bar. A stunning woman wearing a necktie and slouchy white shirt is sitting sideways on the barstool, facing our brother. She’s wiggling one foot, a black high heel dangling from her toes, while twirling her hair around one finger. Archer watches her, his neatly-trimmed beard shifting subtlety.
“Damn. He’s in trouble,” I blurt.