On an Edge of Glass (15 page)

“You didn’t let me finish.”  His eyes close briefly.  “I do want to have sex with you, but I like you a lot. 
A lot. 
And I was afraid that what’s happening between us would become one of those strictly friends-with-benefits arrangements, and that’s not what I want.”  He pauses, tucking his hair back behind his ears. 

I feel like I’ve been in a pitch black room and someone just flipped on a light.  I blink, but everything is still blurry and out of focus. 
“You don’t?”

Ben
moves his head slowly from side to side.  “Maybe you don’t
want
to have any claim on me but…”

             
“But what?” I ask.  My heart is tapping faster now.

             
He winces, looks down.  “But nothing.  Never mind.”

             
I reach out and touch the tips of his fingers and I say, “Please tell me.”

             
“I don’t know…”  He takes a tight breath and holds it in his lungs.  His eyes scan my bedroom like he’s seeking out his thoughts from the shadows. “It’s just that you do.”

             
Now I’m the one dragging his chin up so that I can see into those brown eyes.  Ben has gotten embarrassed on me—biting his bottom lip and ducking his head so that his hair blocks his face.  He has one hand splayed on the floor, fingers pressing into the threads of my green rug. 

I lean in. 
“What?  It’s just that I do
what
?”

             
“Have a claim on me,” he whispers.

             
Something surges from deep inside of me.  Something that terrifies me.  Something that feels an awful lot like the sun exploding. 

“Oh,” I say.  Just like that.  Like his words didn’t slam me sideways
and cause an entire garden of flowers to bloom in my chest. 

             
The corners of Ben’s mouth fall.  His eyes are raw, fragile.  From the looks of it, he’s ready to get up and walk out of my room.  Probably for good.  And I don’t blame him. 

             
I’m not entirely sure, but I think I might be an idiot when it comes to dealing with guys.

             
Ben stands to go and my heart lurches against my ribcage.

I
rise to my knees.  “Wait!” 

H
e stops, his hands resting on his thighs, and turns to me.  His face is a roadmap of strange, crooked lines and I want to follow them all. 

“
Ben, I’m a moron, okay?  I like you too.  I like that you have just one dimple instead of two.  And I like the way you can make me laugh about nothing.  I like your uneven eyebrows, and your music, and your scruffy chin.  I like that you can cook actual food—not just macaroni and powdered cheese.  And that you talk about your little brothers and your mom.  I
like
you like you.  And you were right—I was jealous of that girl this afternoon.  I know it’s stupid, but I was so jealous that I could hardly breathe.”

He moves.
  There’s a confused moment—one of reaching and awkward angles and limbs tangling—and then our lips are pressed together and there’s so much heat rippling through the collision that I sway. 

Ben
half-carries me backward and lowers me to the bed with his right arm braced behind my shoulders.  I am pulling frantically at his clothes—at the tiny buttons of his shirt and the stubborn zipper of his pants.  He captures my hands and stills them between us. 

“I want to be with you Ellie,” he says pensively, his loose hair tickling my face.
  “I—I want you so much that I think I’m going a little bit crazy.”

I arc
my back so that our bodies touch everywhere.  He gasps and rolls me over. 

“I want to be with you too.  In
every
way,” I reply, gently tracing his jaw with the tip of my tongue.

Ben
closes his eyes and shudders.  He swallows and I watch the hard movement of his throat.  I kiss him there. 

“
Are you sure?” He asks.  “Do you trust me?”

I touch the side of his face.  I kiss him lightly just below his chin.  My voice is a frothy light bubble.  “I trust you.”

And then there are no more words between us—just the sounds of clothes being peeled and tossed to the floor, and gasping breaths, and small noises of pleasure when hands and mouths find new, uncharted places.  Never breaking the rhythm that we’ve fallen into, Ben slides the thin straps of my bra from my shoulder.  He kisses the bare skin there and cups my breasts in his palms.  Wrapping his arm around my back, he lifts me so that he can manipulate the clasp.  I unravel in a series of unintelligible sounds and shivers as he works his mouth over me.  

Pausing,
Ben’s eyes close and he inhales through his nose.  He’s holding his weight above me with one hand.  “You are…” He murmurs as he shifts down further, slowly trailing his soft lips over the terrain of my body.  “So beautiful.”

I answer with a moan. 
I am lost and full of wanting at the same time.  He stops at the dip of my stomach to taste my belly button, and I let my eyes flutter closed. 

“I think about this all of the time,” he says breathily against my skin.  “I think about how you taste, and the sounds that you make, and the way that you smell.”

“I—I…”  I try to say something, but no words will form.

Ben chuckles.  “It’s torture.  I can hardly sleep when I’m not next to you.  My brain is so full of you, it’s like there’s not room enough for anything else.”

His kisses continue until my breath is coming so fast, I worry that I’ll start to hyperventilate.

“Ben,” I say
, digging my hands into his hair.

He breaks contact for a moment and looks up at me with eyes that are on fire.  I try not to writhe under him.  “Ellie,” he mirrors my tone.
 

R
eaching sideways, I fumble one-handed with the drawer of my nightstand until I find what I’m looking for.

“
You’re positive?”  Ben’s hot misty breath swirls against my skin.

I say nothing.  I just rip op
en the packet and pull him closer.

W
hen he rocks into me, speaking low into my mouth and cradling my face in his hands, every part of me feels awake and alive.

After
, our feet entwined under the covers and my head resting on his bare chest while the dark jagged shadows of my room at night hover, Ben tells me, “I think we should say something to Ainsley and Payton right away.”

             
Inwardly, I cringe.  In my contentment, I’ve forgotten about the tiny detail of the girl pact with my other housemates.  I run my index finger over the bumps of his ribs.  “Maybe we should wait a little while longer. Just until after exams.  That will give them all of winter break to adjust to the idea of it.”  Translation:
to get over my hypocrisy. 

             
He’s twirling the ends of my hair between his thumb and finger.  “Okay,” he says, pressing his lips to my forehead.  “If that’s what you think is best.  But, I do want to take you on a real date.  And I won’t take no for an answer.”

             
I smile into the dark.  “A real date?   Like, where you come to my door with flowers and have to have me home safe by midnight?”

             
“Well, I wouldn’t want you to turn into a pumpkin.”

This makes me laugh.  “I think you have
the details of the fairytale mixed up, but okaaaay… When would you like to go on this proposed date?”

His arm curls around me
, lifting me higher so that my cheek scrapes against the stubbly growth that covers his jaw.  “You take the LSAT on Saturday morning, right?”

“Yep.”

“Then Saturday night it is.”

I look
at him.  “Ainsley will be at that social and Payton mentioned something the other day about going to see a concert with Hedda and Megan, so I don’t think she’ll be home either.”

He touches the tip of my nose lightly.  “Perfect.  I’ll pick you up a
t your bedroom door and I’ll have something better than flowers for m’lady.”

Hedgehogs Love to Lunch

The cool air kicks up around me when the glass door opens.  After that stuffy room of ticking clocks and circular questions, it’s like a flood of water after a long, earth-cracking drought.  I pause to the side of the entryway, slipping into my burgundy jacket and switching my phone ringer back into the on position. 

“There she is!”  I hear a familiar voice.

“Ellie-bear, over here!”

I spin and scan the bodies moving past, threading out of the building where I’ve just spent the longest three hours of my life.  There, huddled underneath the grey stone archway, backlit by the midday sun, are Mark, Payton and Ainsley. 

I laugh out loud.  M
y three friends lurch toward me—Ainsley squealing, Mark asking a thousand questions, and Payton pulling my arm. 

“W
ait—what in the world are you guys doing here?”

Payton leans in
.  “Well, babe, we came to see how you did on the test.”

“And
to take you out to lunch,” Ainsley adds.

“
And
to bring you this,” Mark says.  He hands me a stuffed animal.

I look down at the small brown fluffy thing in my hands.  “What is this?  Is it…
” I turn it over to examine the other side.  “A
hedgehog
?” 

Mark puts his hands up
in the air and rolls his eyes dramatically.  “I, too, am completely baffled by the significance of the hedgehog, but Miss Ainsley here insisted on it instead of something useful like a pocket protector, or a foot warmer, or eyeglass cleaner.”

I’m shaking my head and smiling.  “I don’t
even wear glasses.”

Mark’
s shoulders lift.  “Still would have been more practical than a fuzzy hedgehog.”

Ainsley sticks out her tongue at him
and throws back a lock of blonde hair.  “Mark, I explained before that the hedgehog doesn’t represent anything or serve any logical purpose.  It’s simply cute for the sake of cuteness.”

Mark gives me a see-what-I’ve-been-dealing-with look.

Payton laughs and pulls my arm in the direction of the parking lot.  “Come on,” she says, digging her keys out of her purse.  “I’m completely starved.”

“
Me too.”  Mark swings my hand in his.  “I think that we should go to that new Greek place over on Westwood.  The hedgehog says he’s heard they have an excellent baklava.”

Ainsley giggles and slides
her sunglasses down her nose.  “Oh Mark, you’re too much.”

“So, how was it?” Payton asks after we’ve ordered our drinks.

              We’re in a courtyard that’s been outfitted with one of those canvas tent coverings so that it can be used even once the weather turns cool.  There are dozens of potted plants of varying heights positioned around the tables.  An elaborate outdoor fountain burbles soothingly in the center of the stone and stucco patio.  Two low-slung brick walls, nearly being swallowed by creeping ivy, curve around both sides of the space like parenthesis.     

             
“Honestly, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” I say, unfolding a napkin on my lap.  “Don’t get me wrong—my brain is throbbing like it’s just been flattened by a zamboni, but I feel like it could have been worse.”

             
Ainsley crinkles her nose.  “What in the world is a zamboni?”

             
“It’s one of those machines that resurfaces the ice at a skating rink,” Mark replies matter-of-factly.

             
“Ohhhh, okay…”

             
“Anyway, back to the test…” Payton redirects, rolling her hand in the air.  She’s wearing three different gaudy rings and a bracelet cuff with a smiling panda bear emblazoned in the center.  “How do you think you did on it?”

             
I look up and let out a big breath.  “I won’t know for a few weeks but it felt okay, you know?” I realign my fork and knife so they’re perpendicular to the edge of the table.  “I had some difficulty with one section but overall, I think I did fine.”  This is not entirely true.  I struggled more than I thought that I would.

             
“Brian and Pam will be happy,” Payton says, taking a sip from her glass.

             
“Totes,” Ainsley chimes in.

             
Brian and Pam are my parents—the power-suit-wearing mega lawyers. 

“Well, I care more about what
the admission panel at Columbia thinks,” I say tersely, trying not to let my brain linger on how I probably should have been studying last night instead of kissing Ben.