Secondhand Boyfriends (11 page)

“I’m pretty sure you were watching basketball when I called you earlier,” I said with a wink.

His face lit up. He was probably shocked that I was being so cool about everything. I could tell.

He flipped on the T.V. and instantly tuned it to some college game. If he absolutely had to watch the game, I was glad he was going to be watching it with me.

I grabbed one of Claudia’s many gossip magazines from the coffee table, repositioned the sofa cushion behind me, and got comfortable. If I didn’t know any better, we were settling into a relaxing Monday evening like some boring old couple. It felt good to have that with someone. I hadn’t had that for almost a year.

The moment a commercial came across the screen, I decided to make small talk with Bennett. I couldn’t just sit there in silence all night.

“So, long day today?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said as he turned towards me. At least he was engaging.

“Wanna talk about it?” I asked with raised eyebrows. “I’m all ears.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” he replied. He took a swig of his beer, and I saw that it was getting a little low.

“Want another beer?” I asked, leaning forward to climb off the couch.

“You stay there,” he said. “I’ll get it. You don’t have to wait on me.”

“Okay,” I said with a grin. Things were definitely getting more comfortable between us, and I loved that.

He returned with his fresh bottle of beer and sat back down, moving my legs back onto his lap.

“So guess what I did today?” I said. “You’ll never believe this.”

“What’s that?” he asked. The game was starting to come back on. Damn it.

“Had coffee with Ayla Giovanni,” I said as I casually flipped the pages of my magazine.

I glanced over at Bennett who looked like he was about to spit his beer out of his mouth.

“How? What?” he said, perplexed. “How did that come about?”

“Julianne approached me at work today,” I sighed. “She doesn’t think Ayla has enough friends. Or maybe she doesn’t have any at all. I don’t know. She thought I’d be a good friend for Ayla to have, and she asked me to meet Ayla for coffee after work. How could I say no to my boss?”

“So, how’d it go?” he asked. His face was intense and he was totally tuned into me despite the game clearly playing on the T.V. screen just mere feet away.

“Honestly?” I said as I sat up a little. “I think she’s shallow and vapid. She’s impossible to have a conversation with. She only talks about herself. She didn’t once ask anything about me, and I don’t know what anyone sees in her. There’s just, like, nothing there.”

Bennett’s face twisted uncomfortably as he took another swig of beer.

“That’s not exactly fair to say,” he said. “You spent, what, an hour with her?”

“Half hour,” I corrected him.

“Okay, so you spent a half hour with someone you don’t know, and you’re calling her a bunch of pretty harsh names,” he said. “Just seems a little extreme.”

He turned back towards the game and turned the volume up a tiny bit. He didn’t want to have this discussion, I could tell. But I didn’t care. I wanted to know why he was sticking up for her.

“I think she has the personality of a wet blanket,” I said. “There’s nothing special about her beyond that pretty face of hers.”

He turned back towards me and cocked his head to the side as if to say, “Come on.”

“I don’t know what Sam sees in her,” I added.

“Who’s Sam?” he asked. “Oh, wait, her fiancé. Why do you care what he sees in her? You don’t know the guy.”

I bit my lip. It was almost on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t tell him. I hadn’t told him when I had the chance, so I couldn’t say it now. He was better off not knowing anyway.

“Oh!” he yelled out as he stood up. My legs flew off his lap like two limp noodles. There must have been an exciting play in the game.

I sat up a bit and crossed my legs. I didn’t feel like being all cutesy with him after that. I couldn’t believe he was standing up for Ayla when she was clearly the most self-absorbed person in the entire world.

I finished one magazine and picked up another. I glanced over the glossy pages of well-coiffed celebrities, read an article about how some reality star lost thirty-five pounds in two months, and reviewed a spread on nail polish trends. At least a half hour went by, and Bennett hadn’t said more than a couple words to me.

“Care if I have another beer?” he asked.

“Go for it,” I said, not looking up from my read.

He returned from the kitchen once again and downed his third beer. I was a little surprised since he was a cop and had driven there. It was almost nine o’clock, and I figured he’d be trying to jet out soon.

The moment his game ended, his demeanor completely changed.

“So,” he said, playfully slapping my knee.

I looked up, and he had the biggest, cheesiest grin plastered across his face.

“Your team won?” I asked.

He nodded with the enthusiasm of a kid at Christmas.

“That and I’m a little buzzed,” he said. He tossed his head back and sunk deep into the couch. It was probably the most relaxed I’d ever seen him.

“You can crash here tonight if you want,” I said. “I’m probably going to go to bed soon. Gotta work tomorrow.”

He tossed back the rest of his beer and set the bottle on a wooden coaster.

“If you don’t mind?” he said. His eyes were soft and gentle as he looked up at me.

On the inside I was reeling. I loved sleepovers. I wanted to lay with him. Kiss. Cuddle. Whatever. I just hoped he wasn’t going to leave at two a.m. like he did the last time.

I stood up and stretched my arms up high, letting out the daintiest yawn.

“My room is back there,” I said as I pointed down the hall.

“I remember,” he said as he followed me down the hallway.

“I don’t have any men’s pajamas,” I said.

“It’s fine,” he replied. He pulled off his t-shirt to reveal a plain, white undershirt. He then unbuttoned his jeans and slid them down until he was in nothing but red, plaid boxer shorts.

I rifled through my pajama drawer in search of something not too raggedy. I tended to keep everything until it was holey and faded, since that’s when it was the most comfortable for sleeping.

I headed towards my walk-in closet and found a silk nightgown. It was pale peach and played off my blonde hair perfectly. I stripped down and slipped it on, soon realizing that it was way too sexy and I was probably going to give him the wrong idea. I couldn’t come out wearing what I had on before, so I left it on.

The moment I stepped out, I reached over to flip off the lights, hoping he didn’t catch too big of a glimpse of my sexy nightgown. I cautiously glanced his way, but it was too late. The look on his face said it all.

“It was either this or some ratty old pajama pants,” I said with a coy smile. “I need to do laundry.”

He was already in my bed, snuggled under the covers and waiting for me. I climbed in next to him as he held the covers open and curled up under his arm.

“A girl could get used to this,” I said. “No more walking up cold in the middle of the night.”

“Nice disclaimer,” he laughed.

I nuzzled my nose onto his smooth chest. He smelled like Irish Spring soap and some sort of musky aftershave. I ran my fingers over his chest, tracing every rippled muscle. I’d never realized before what an amazing body he had. He was lean, like a runner, but every inch of him had definition.

My eyes were growing heavy, and as much as I wanted to stay up all night long and cuddle and chat, I couldn’t fight it a minute longer. I had to get up early for work the next morning.

For the first time in years, I woke up before my alarm went off. I reached over to shut it off so it wouldn’t disturb Bennett a half hour later when the world’s most annoying beeps and buzzes would start blaring from its speakers.

Bennett looked so peaceful bathed in the tiny bit of light peeking through the curtains. I thought about watching him sleep for a bit, but if he caught me, I’d look like the biggest creep.

I slipped out from the covers as gently as possible, not wanting to wake him, and tiptoed down the hall and towards the kitchen. With my extra half hour, I’d decided to make him a nice little breakfast in bed. I missed having someone to do those things for.

I tried to be quiet as I pulled out pans and various ingredients, but a rogue clink or clang escaped a few times. I whipped up some fluffy scrambled eggs, buttered some whole grain toast, and microwaved some ready-made bacon. It was going to have to be good enough. I poured a small glass of orange juice and put everything on a cute little breakfast tray.

I carried the tray down the hallway, careful not to spill anything, and gently kicked the door open with my toes.

Bennett was still asleep, and it was not quite seven. I didn’t know what time he normally went into work, but I was sure if he had to be somewhere, he’d probably have set the alarm on his phone.

“Good morning,” I whispered.

He stirred a bit before taking a deep breath and opening his eyes. He looked around the room for a second as his brain processed where he was and then sat up in bed.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Breakfast…” I replied as I rolled my eyes. “Please tell me you eat breakfast.”

I sat the tray down on the bed next to him and he sat frozen. He didn’t touch any of it. He didn’t even seem excited by it.

“What time is it?” he asked as he rubbed his eyes.

“Now it’s almost seven,” I replied. “I need to hop in the shower—”

“Almost seven?!” He suddenly sprung alive as he jumped out of bed and began to gather up his clothes from the floor. He stepped into his jeans and threw his shirt over his head. “Shit. Shit.”

“What?” I asked, perplexed.

“I’ve got to go,” he said. “Sorry. I can’t stick around.”

I looked down at the untouched breakfast tray and then watched as he scrambled to get out the door. It was like he couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

By the time I got to work, I was still trying to wrap my head around Bennett’s odd behavior. He really couldn’t stay for a few bites of breakfast? If he was already running late, what was another five or ten minutes?

I stared at the massive bouquet of flowers from the day before. They served as a sweet reminder of the Bennett of yesterday. I was quickly realizing that there were many facets to that man, and I wondered if I was ever going to be able to keep up with all of his little personality quirks.

I fired up my computer and checked my email. A small buzzing sound came from my purse after a few minutes. I ignored it as I tried to immerse myself in work. I had an unusually high number of emails to tend to that morning, thank goodness, and a staff meeting scheduled for ten.

Managing to go the entire morning without checking my phone, I emerged from the staff meeting with a rumbling tummy and an urge to finally check it. Besides, I needed to look up a number to my favorite sub shop so they could deliver me some lunch. I was going to work through lunch that day. I wanted to be as distracted from my personal life as possible.

I pulled out my phone and saw the little red icon next to my text messages telling me I had an unread message. It called to me. It beckoned me to push it and to see who it was from.

Quickly losing all self-control, I pressed the icon to read the message. It was from Bennett.

SORRY ABOUT EARLIER. CAN I BUY YOU LUNCH TO MAKE UP FOR IT?

All the anger and confusion I’d felt towards him that morning dissipated as soon as I saw his text. I was sure he had a perfectly logical explanation for running out like that, and I intended on getting it from him.

He’d sent the message around nine that morning. I’d made him wait almost three hours inadvertently, so I quickly typed up a response.

SURE. WHERE?

It only took a few seconds to get a response.

MANGIAMO’S ON 5
^TH
.

Mangiamo’s was a little Italian deli. Bennett and his Italian places. It was just up the street from my office, so at least it was convenient.

WHEN?

He replied instantly.

NOW?

A plume of butterflies rose in my stomach. This whole thing with Bennett, whatever it was, was like one giant rollercoaster, but he always seemed to pull through when I least expected it. His timing was remarkable.

I texted him back that I was on my way, grabbed my purse, and locked up my desk. Within five minutes, I was standing outside of Mangiamo’s waiting for him. I stood for about ten minutes before my feet began to ache in my shoes and I took refuge on a nearby empty bench.

“Hey,” I heard him say as he walked up. “Sorry I’m a little late. Got caught up in traffic.”

“It’s okay,” I said.

He stood nervously for a moment before leaning in and kissing my mouth. It was just an innocent peck, but I was happy to receive it. He was a perfect gentleman, and I suddenly appreciated the fact that he didn’t try anything funny the night before in my bed. He definitely could’ve used that situation to his full advantage.

We approached the counter, ordered our meals, and found an empty table.

“So what’s this about?” I asked him as we sat down. “Why the impromptu lunch?”

“I felt bad about this morning,” he sighed as he hunched over and rested his elbows on the table. “I guess things are just moving a little fast for me. I got a little freaked out. When I realized I’d stayed the night and you were making me breakfast in bed, and the way you treated me the night before… it was like you’re already my girlfriend.”

He totally said the g-word. I was speechless.

“Okay,” I said as I waited for him to continue.

“We’re not there yet,” he said. “Obviously.”

On the inside, my ego deflated a bit. I thought we were almost there if not there already. I hadn’t even thought about dating another guy. It made me wonder if we weren’t exclusive after all. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been on any other dates since we’d first started dating.