What We Saw(42)

After a minute my hands find his face, and I pull back, looking him in the eyes. Six days later, we are forehead to forehead again, but I know him now—not as an old friend with a shared history, but as something much more.

“Let’s go inside,” I whisper.

He glances out the windshield at the garage, where his mom teeters on a step stool, pushing a package of paper towels onto a top shelf. “Can we sneak in the front door?”

I smile. “It’ll just take a second.”

Adele wants to hear all about my dress while Ben hefts the Bounty rolls onto the top shelf, then quickly fills in the rest on the rack below.

“There isn’t much to tell,” I say. “Just found it at Second Sands.”

“Can you imagine somebody letting go of that?” she says. “So glad you put it to good use. Didn’t expect you home so early, Benny.” She pats Ben’s arm, but he ignores the question and continues putting stuff away.

“John Doone showed up,” I say, trying to fill the silence, but Ben shoots me a look, eyes wide. Why are you talking to her about this?

“It’s all anybody’s talked about at work this week,” Adele says, shaking her head. “His daddy’s been on the phone with the door closed for hours talking to lawyers. Margie’s been in and out all week, too, crying buckets every time I see her.”

Ben hefts the last pack of paper towels into place. “Well, tell her to come here if she needs a tissue. We’re prepared for a flood. Won’t need an ark. We can just mop up the whole planet with these.”

“Thanks, hon.” Adele tries to peck his cheek, but he squirms away. “Now we won’t have to worry about running out for a while.”

“Were we worried about running out of paper towels before? Was there some worldwide shortage I didn’t hear about?” There’s an edge of scorn in Ben’s voice.

“It was just . . . such a good deal.” Adele blinks, her eyes smudged with the liner she wore to the gym tonight. “I actually made twenty dollars when I picked these up.” She looks over at me and smiles in hopes of a friendlier audience. “I had a coup—”

“A coo-pon,” Ben cuts her off, mimicking his mom’s pronunciation. “You and your coo-pons. Jesus, Mom. When’s it gonna be enough? The stores aren’t shutting down. We can go buy freaking toilet paper whenever we need some.”

Ben’s anger chokes Adele, and her eyes water. She glances at me, then blushes at the floor. “Just . . . like saving money, I guess . . .” She busies herself folding up the step stool. She leans it against the wall, then reaches the door that leads into the downstairs rec room. She pauses with her hand on the knob, trying to salvage this ruined moment. “What do you have planned for the rest of the evening?”

Ben shrugs. “Watch a movie or something.”

She searches Ben’s face, but he won’t make eye contact. It’s excruciating to witness. “That sounds nice.” She turns and gives me a shy smile. “Good night, Katie. You look beautiful.”

I say thank you as she slips through the door, closing it behind her. I am seized by the urge to chase after her and give her a hug, but I don’t. Ben won’t look at me for a minute either. He jams a stray case of Altoids back onto their shelf. I hear water flowing through pipes and imagine Adele, stepping into a hot shower upstairs.

Ben punches the button to close the garage, then opens the door to the rec room. “Coming?”


As I follow him down the hall, I feel a frown folding around the words that form in my mouth. What the hell was that? Why did you yell at your mom? As I turn to say this, Ben kisses me. I kiss him back, and he wraps his arms around me. He slips an arm under my thighs as he bends, and lifts, gently laying me back on the sectional that outlines half the den.

“Wait,” I whisper between kisses. I want to talk to him about what is happening. He is kneeling on the floor, his upper body slowly settling on top of me, his arm around my lower back pulls me close, every part of him pressed up against me. The same desperate kisses from out in the driveway fill my mouth, the heat of his body against mine steals my breath, and fogs all the things I want to say, words written on a mirror in a steamed-up bathroom.

He reaches for the zipper at the back of my dress and draws me up with the arm underneath me as he unzips it. I feel his bicep bulge and remember again how powerful he is. I say, “Wait,” once more, but it’s as if he doesn’t hear me. His fingers are warm on my bare back, his tongue adamant against my own as he pulls the dress loose from my shoulders, one hand sliding down, down, down my back, cupping my hip in his hand. He pulls me more tightly beneath him, throwing one leg up onto the sectional with me, rolling his full weight onto the couch, while his fingers continue searching beneath me.

My pulse is racing now as fast as my mind. I press my palms flat against his shoulders, pushing back and up. I roll my mouth away from his and thrust my whole body against him, bucking him sideways, back off the couch and onto the floor.

“Jesus! Ben.”

He stares back at me, dazed. “What?”

“What is with you tonight?”

He blinks at me, then scowls. “You’re the one who wanted to come inside.”

“Yeah, I did, before you decided to make your mom cry. And I just told you to wait. Twice. What the hell?” I pull my dress up and sit back on the couch, huffing out a long slow breath.