Connected (Connections, #1)(11)

Pulling away I looked around the deserted beach. “Let’s stay here.”

Ben didn’t need any more convincing as he pulled me back under our surfboard teepee and we had sex for the first time.

I remembered looking at him that day so long ago, with his blond hair and perpetual tan. When we stood there in the rain, about to take the next step in our relationship, I thought he looked more and more like my Malibu Ken Doll, and I wanted to be his dream Barbie. Ever since that day I called him Malibu Ken or just Ken for short. I even remembered him saying in response to my nickname for him, “Shit, Dahl, people are going to think I play with Barbies.” Then, with a wicked grin, he said, “But that’s okay as long as you’re my Barbie.” He knew I was. That night I pulled out my Malibu Ken and set him on my dresser. When he saw it, with an amused look on his face he asked, “Barbie belonged to Ken right?” I nodded. He declared, “It’s cool then.”

I thought about how he tolerated my nickname for him over the years, even though he never really liked it. He just knew my Barbie dolls were my lifeline to my lost childhood, and I think that was why he never really protested the nickname. My dolls photographed well, they let me style them, they always looked great for the camera, and they reminded me of happier times.

Ben suddenly shut the lid completely, and the memory was gone. Blinking my eyes, I came back to the present as he turned and hugged me tightly. I don’t remember the last time we hugged like that, and again I felt a bit alarmed until he looked me in the eyes and said with the slightest whisper, “Please Dahl, I want to f*ck you, make love to you, before we go.”

With all the emotion and love I felt for him, I really didn’t care how late we were, so I whispered back, “How can I turn you down when you asked so nicely, and you did shave after all?” Then in a half-joking, half-serious voice I added, “But make it quick!” I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him to me for a kiss.

Ben kissed me differently than he had ever kissed me before, and then he made love to me in a completely different way as well. He was full of passion and love, like usual, but I also felt a need in him I’d never sensed before. He loved sex, and we had it often. He was usually quick and to the point, but now he took his time, his eyes never left me, and he never said a word. The look in his eyes and the way he touched me told me everything I needed to know.

Afterwards, we held each other for a little while before he got up and went into the bathroom to get dressed again. I heard noises in the bathroom that sounded like sobbing. Ben had never cried—ever—and knowing we were going to be late, I pushed the eerie feelings away and vowed we would talk about his strange behavior when we came home that night.





The ominous glow of the headlights ahead filtered through the rain as it continued to fall. I sat in his BMW and glanced over at him. Ben hated listening to top 40 music, but he turned the radio station to 102.7 for me anyway, which made me smile. We were listening to Gavin DeGraw’s I’m in Love with a Girl. I was singing along to the lyrics and was surprised when I saw Ben singing the words as well. Sensing me watching him, he turned, quickly looked at me, and stopped singing. “If I ever wrote a song, this is the one I’d have written about you,” he said. Then he turned the radio up louder, and the lump that I had in my throat earlier returned.

We had been together so long that sometimes I lost sight of what I loved about him. At this moment I knew it was just everything; the way he carried his six-foot frame, his short dirty blond hair, his dimples, and the way he commanded attention from everyone with his confidence. Sometimes it seemed to border on arrogance, but it only made people notice him more.

Growing up he was all surfer, and even as an adult he still was. I smiled thinking that as a kid he had such a bad mouth, was hotheaded, and most teachers said he had a poor attitude, but I never thought so. That was just his way. As I looked over at him driving on the freeway I realized it still was his way, and God I loved him.

He looked at me as he pulled off the freeway, continuing to drive through the streets of LA. “What?” he said while turning the radio down, just as the song ended.

Grinning at him, I reached over the console to place my hand on his thigh and ran it up his leg. “We’re going to be late to your first award party, and it’s all your fault.”

With a shit eating grin on his face he said, “So f*cking worth it,” as he changed the radio station.

We stopped at a traffic light, and I took my hand off his leg to turn the radio station back. I heard tires squealing, and when I looked up, I saw a big black SUV with heavily tinted windows jackknifed in front of us. Its passenger door opened, and a man in a ski mask jumped out holding a gun.

I screamed at Ben, “Oh my God, he has a gun!”

Panic set in instantly, and I struggled to breathe as he approached Ben’s side of the car. “Get the f*ck out of the car!”

I was frozen in place as my body riveted with fear. What’s going on? In my panicked state, I hit the lock button on the door, but the car was already locked. My sweaty palms were shaking, and I grabbed for Ben. He looked at me, and I knew he was trying to contain his own emotions. “Just keep calm, Dahl.”

My eyes were locked on the gunman as his eyes shifted to mine. Terror shot through me as he tapped his gun against the window a couple of times and then pointed it at me.

Frantically, I started beating the dash and was screaming, “Drive, Ben drive!”