Five Ways to Fall (Ten Tiny Breaths, #4)(77)

“I need to get out of here before I get into trouble.” There’s a slight pause, and then a sly smile makes those dimples all the more prominent. “And you have to make up for lying to me.”



“You live in a frat house,” I state, taking in the sizeable brown brick house in an older part of Miami.

Ben’s friend Nate’s deep chuckle fills the interior as Ben explains, “It’s not a frat house. It’s just a big house where six guys who went to college together live.”

“You sure about that?” I climb out of Nate’s Navigator to hear shouts from the porch as a group of guys chug their beers to a chorus of something that sounds like an Irish drinking song. “Because I don’t think your roommates know yet.”

Slapping the hood and thanking his friend for the ride, Ben ropes his arm around my shoulders just as Mason’s Subaru pulls up behind us. “Didn’t even want to be separated from me for a car ride, did you?” he says with a smirk.

“Have you ever ridden anywhere with Mason?” I had to once, for a total of twenty minutes, to get a ride to campus when the Audi was in for a tune-up and it was raining too hard to ride my bike. When Ben shakes his head, I explain, “He signals half a mile away from his turns.”

“And I’ll bet you pointed that out to him.”

“It’s a public safety risk!”

“Hey, Mace! How’s that signal indicator working?” Ben shouts, looking over my shoulder.

I turn in time to see Mason throw an annoyed glare my way. And then he stumbles over a crack in the sidewalk and drops his keys.

“It’s a good thing that guy is so smart,” Ben murmurs with a smirk as he leads me forward, away from my two best friends, who have been wearing those same scowls since the bar. That’s the other reason I avoided the car ride—I don’t want to deal with an intervention right now.

We climb the stairs to the porch, Ben’s arm around me the way I’d imagine a boyfriend’s would be, giving lazy high-fives to a few of the guys standing there.

“Why are you still living like a frat guy?” I ask as he pushes the door open.

I get my answer immediately.

“Because it’s not a frat house; it’s a brothel,” I correct as I take in the crowd of people milling about. Some are just lounging on couches with beers in hand and college-aged girls perched on their laps while they giggle and shout over the baseball game on the television. But others are circling a small group of scantily clad and disproportionately figured women, pretending to be interested by what they’re saying, all while their pants are stretched over their crotches with hopes of what tonight may bring. “Why am I not surprised?” I shout over the shitty house music, courtesy of a guy and his mixing table in the corner.

Ben’s shaking his head in denial but he’s smiling. “These girls aren’t like that.” My doubtful stare has him elaborating, “They’re Penny’s girls. They just dance.”

“Really? And the Twinkie? Does she just dance for you?” Why is it that she’s really annoying me tonight?

People start noticing Ben and a loud roar of approval and clapping erupts.

He chuckles, pulling me in farther. “Do you remember Travis? From Cancún?” Ben asks as we come face-to-face with a tall, shaggy-haired decent-looking guy.

The guy sticks his hand out. I’ll bet the confused look on his face matches mine. At least I wasn’t the only shit-faced one down there that night. “Did we meet?”

I point to my head. “Used to be all purple, if that helps.”

His eyes widen. “No way!” He turns to look at Ben. “You finally found her?”

What? “Ben was looking for me?”

“She works with me,” Ben explains to his friend, tightening his arm around my neck until my cheek is pressed up against his chest.

“Man, I can’t tell you how pissed he was when you didn’t leave your number,” he tells me with a laugh. “He kept going on and on about you.”

Oh, this is getting better and better. “Seriously?” I manage to twist my head until I’m looking directly up at Ben’s square jaw. “Were you pining over me all this time, Ben?” I know he doesn’t pine, so this guy is clearly teasing him, but it’s still funny to see Ben getting instead of giving for once.

Ben shakes his head, but he’s laughing when he calls his friend a liar. Leaning down to press his mouth against my ear, he murmurs, “No, I just really wanted a new shirt.”

I roll my eyes and try to pull away from Ben. It’s futile. I’m trapped against him and he seems unwilling to budge. I decide to just go with it, burrowing into him and staying there while he and his friend talk about some football trade for a pool they’re in.

So when my phone starts vibrating in my back pocket, I don’t hesitate to slide it out to read the text:

Was that really you?



My heart jumps.

“No, no, no,” Ben mutters, his full attention on me again as he swiftly pries my phone from my hand.

“Nosey!” I smack his face away as he raises his arm high above his head with a grin. I don’t doubt he’d like me to scale him like a tree, but I’m not going to.

“He broke that black heart of yours. And now he’s married. Don’t be stupid.”