On an Edge of Glass

  Baby, it’s Cold Outside

  Thanksgiving is uneventful as far as Thanksgivings with my family go. Neither my mother nor my father is one for cooking, even on holidays, so the three of us end up eating at a European styled restaurant in Canal Square. We sit at a table topped with a crisp white cloth. I dutifully eat a beet and watercress salad served by a refined man in a tuxedo, and I answer a jillion parental-type questions about the LSAT and my Columbia essay and my plans for the next, oh, dozen years or so.

  The saving grace of my Thanksgiving dinner is that halfway through the meal, Ben texts me an update from his house.

  Ben: Mom’s boyfriend just dropped the turkey on the floor. Dog having best meal of his life.

  Me: Lol. What did you guys do?

  Ben: What else? Ordered a pizza.

  Me: Haha! I would kill for a slice of pepperoni and mushroom. I’m not sure I’ll last through dessert.

  Ben: Here’s a thought to get you through. Try to think of a food that does NOT go well with either chocolate or cheese. It’s impossible.

  Me: ??

  Ben: Come on, play along…

  Me: Okay… how about BBQ?

  Ben: BBQ sandwich topped with cheddar is delicious!

  Me: Ha! Peanut butter and jelly?

  Ben: Hmmm… I think you can successfully add chocolate to that combo.

  And we go back and forth like this until my parents take notice and want to know why I’m staring at my phone with a goofy smile plastered on my face. I brush aside their interest and start talking about law school again. As always, Columbia does the trick as the ultimate distraction.

  Friday drags. I do make an effort to be semi-social by meeting up with some high school friends for lunch near Capitol Hill. In the afternoon I walk around the National Mall and attempt to amuse myself by watching tourists take cheesy photos in front of the pale marble of the Washington Monument. I take a picture of myself near the Air and Space Museum and send it to Ben. He responds with a photo of himself practicing on his cello. But the angle of the shot is bad, and it’s really just half a mouth and a nose.

  When Saturday rolls around, I’m glad that I already planned to head back to school a day early. I leave after lunch, and by late afternoon I’m standing in the middle of an empty house with my powder blue rolling suitcase beside me.

  A pair of Payton’s black patent leather flats lay on the floor by the refrigerator like she kicked them off and forgot about them on her way out the door. Ainsley’s silk-lined winter coat is draped over a hook solemnly waiting for her return.

  Edging down the hall, I peek into Ben’s room just because I can’t seem to help it. Maybe I simply want to get the idea of him back. The blinds are open and diffused amber sunlight skips and shimmers across the floor planks. On his desk, casting a glow over pages of music notes, I see that he left a small lamp on. I cross to it, taking in the crumpled shirts and pants shed near the closet like he couldn’t make up his mind what he should take when he was packing, and I lean in to examine the charcoal drawing tacked on the wall over the bed. It’s of a simple two-storey wood framed house outlined by a thick copse of trees. I wonder if that is his home in Asheville.

  Flipping off the lamp, I let me eyes fall shut and inhale deeply. The air smells like him and I breathe it in again. There’s nothing that I’d like to do more than stand here sniffing like a lovesick fourteen year old for a bit longer, but I resist the urge, and—with a final fleeting look—I head to my own room to unpack.

  An hour later, I’ve abandoned any thoughts of being productive for the rest of the day. I’m bundled up in a heavy sweater and a beanie, and I’m sitting on a bench in a small park a little more than a block away from the house, where the road dips into a steep hill and the traffic lights thin out into open road and rolling country.

  Here, in this square of space, sinking light bobs in and out of the bare tree limbs, sliding across the pages of the open book in my hands. It’s a cheesy romance novel that Mark gave me at the beginning of the term and swore that I would love. The story is typical: average girl meets mysterious boy but somehow supernatural powers get in the way of their love. Much teen angst ensues.

  Unable to concentrate on the plot or characters, I’m staring out—at two little girls heading home from the playground. Their hands are engulfed in brightly colored plush gloves. On the other side of the park, an elderly man is walking his dog up and down the sidewalk. I send Ben a zoomed-in picture that I snap of the dog, who happens to be wearing a cable-knit sweater and a coordinating hat.

  Ben: Nice. I have a set just like it. Where are you??

  Me: At that small park off Hinsdale. I think the dog’s owner knows that I took a photo of them. Now he’s looking over his shoulder and acting all paranoid.

  Ben: Ha! Maybe he’s former intelligence and thinks that you’re an operative sent to take him and the dog down. Btw, isn’t it a little cold today for the park?

  Me: Noooooo. That’s only if you’re a pansy. I’m communing with nature and whatnot.

  Ben: Of course you are…

  As I watch, the sky changes from blue to pink, to a creeping grey. The tall streetlights across from me waver then catch. My breath comes out in icy clouds, and despite what I texted Ben about the cold, I’m beginning to feel a damp chill pulse through my fingers. Just as I move to stand and head for home, my phone vibrates against my hand indicating that I have a new text.

  Ben: What do you think about sushi?

  I pause, considering.

  Me: That depends. Does cream cheese count as a cheese? Because if so then sushi’s out.

  Ben: Hahaha. Not what I meant but you’re right. I was asking if you’d like to get sushi with me.

  My frozen fingers hover over the phone screen. Pale stars are emerging above the roofs of the houses across the street and beyond a patch of nebulous clouds, a sliver of pearly moon winks at me.

  Me: Sure. When?

  Ben: Right now.

  I stare at my phone and then, so slowly that it’s torturous, I turn from the bench and search the park. I stop, my eyes settling on a dark shadow at the base of one of the trees that borders the playground. A sort of fascination takes place of my surprise as Ben steps away from the trees and walks toward me. He is wearing a dark wool coat and a scarf that covers up the bottom half of his face, but I can see a smile crinkling the outer corners of his eyes. My heart stalls momentarily and then sputters back to life.

  “W-w-what are you doing here?” I ask, rushing forward. I feel my cold face break wide open.

  He lifts his arms from his sides and looks around as if he’s about to take off into the air.

  “You said you were at the park communing with the spirit world or something so I thought that I’d stop by and see if you felt like grabbing some sushi with me,” he says like his arrival is no big deal. “You know, sushi’s pretty spiritual. Or so I’ve heard.”

  I shake my head and roll my eyes playfully. “You are infuriating! I meant—why are you in town tonight? I thought you weren’t getting back from Thanksgiving break until tomorrow afternoon.”

  With the darkening sky framing him, he laughs. I feel an answering jolt of electricity course through me.

  “I caught an earlier flight back, Ellie.”

  Something deep inside of me stirs.

  “Why?” I ask, taking a step closer. My pulse amps up another notch.

  He pulls the top of the scarf down so that I can see his mouth. Tilting forward, he lets his forehead rest against mine, ostensibly so that I can get the full effect of his brown-gold eyes up close and personal.

  “Why do you think?” The corners of his mouth jerk. “I missed my Xbox something fierce.”

  My heart tightens in self-consciousness. “Oh.”

  Ben slides his hands up my arms. He grins at me wickedly. “You do know that you are ridiculous, right?”

  I shove his shoulder back. “Excuse me? And why am I ridiculous?”

  Grabbing my hips firmly, Ben p
ulls me against his body. His lips are so close that I can practically taste them. I want to taste them. I need to taste them. I’m like a dog salivating over a steak.

  “Ellie, I came back early because I was driving everyone around me crazy. When I wasn’t texting you or talking to you, I was talking about you, and thinking about you, and wondering about you, and well… you get the idea.” Ben arches a dark eyebrow at me. “My mom finally told me to either change my flight or shut the hell up. I decided to change my flight.”

  So, yeah… that’s probably the best possible answer he could have given me.

  I no longer notice the cold. My breaths are coming out like quiet gasps and my mind is swirling with Ben’s scent and the feel of his hips pressing into me and the words that he’s just spoken.

  I narrow my eyes. “So, what you’re saying is that you like me more than your Xbox?”

  With one intoxicating finger, he traces the outline of my lips, then closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. “Just a little bit.”

  That’s it. I’ve had enough of this talking crap. I reach my hands up. I cup his chin and bring his mouth to mine.

  The kiss begins timidly but grows more intense as his tongue parts my lips and his hands make their way under my sweater to the bare skin just below my belly button. When his mouth moves down my throat and his tongue finds the hollow space just above my collarbone, my knees start to go. An embarrassingly loud moan escapes me.

  I try to pull away so that I can bury my face in my hands like any properly ashamed girl, but Ben won’t let me. Chuckling, he tightens his arms around my waist and does it again.

  I let go of a second moan.

  “I’m not going to let you go so easily. In fact, I think I’d like to see if I can make you do that a third time,” he says quietly.

  I tilt my head so that I can see him properly. “What about sushi?” I ask, though I really don’t care about sushi right now.

  His eyes travel down my body suggestively. “Let’s make our order to go,” he says.

  “So, what you’re saying is that you think that you can take me?”

  I square my shoulders, drawing on a confidence that I don’t really feel. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  Ben tilts his head sideways, letting his arms drop down to my green duvet. His mouth parts and he flicks his tongue over his lips. “You know that I won’t take it easy on you?”

  The look that he’s giving me, and the fact that he’s doing it from the middle of my bed, makes my heart jump. I shake my head, playing it as cool as I can manage.

  “I don’t want you to,” I say boldly.

  My direct answer seems to please him. He smiles just enough so that I catch a glimpse of the dimple.

  “Okay, then let’s do this,” He says. He shifts so that he’s sitting with his back against my pillow. “Close your eyes and reach inside and…”

  I clear my throat melodramatically. “I think I know what I’m doing. It’s not like I haven’t done this before.”

  “If that’s how you want to play, then fine with me,” Ben says glibly as he passes over a velvety sack full of Scrabble tiles. “But, don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”

  And twenty minutes later, when he’s kicking my butt all over the Scrabble board and giving me a look that’s too smug for words, I want to pinch myself for not listening.

  “You’re enjoying this a little too much,” I say as he lays down another thirty-plus point word. “How in the world are you so good at Scrabble?”

  “My family takes board games pretty seriously. One time, my mom and my uncle didn’t speak for two months over what we now refer to as, ‘the great Monopoly disaster of 2010.’”

  I laugh.

  His smile widens. “I’m not even joking. It was pretty vicious. There were tears and maybe even some blood drawn. And, I won’t even get into the wars that have been fought and lost in my family over Chutes and Ladders…”

  “You are so full of shit,” I say, nudging him with my right elbow.

  “Me? I think you’ve got the wrong guy.” He lifts his head. The smile that crawls over his face is knowing and too superior for my liking.

  “Pfffhhh…”

  “I did warn you Ellie,” he insists, winking at me. “You could surrender the game and this would all be over a lot faster.

  I frown, shuffling my tiles in an attempt to make my brain spit out a word from the jumble of vowels in front of me. “Yeah, just so you know, pompous doesn’t really suit you, Benjamin Hamilton.”

  Ben tips his head back and laughs loudly. “Well, just so you know, stubbornness is a teeny bit adorable on you, Elizabeth Glass.”

  I want to keep a straight face but I can’t. Letting my hair fall forward over my shoulders, I place the tiles down on the board earning a measly six points.

  “Oh yeah?” I ask.

  Ben’s eyebrows pull apart. His dark irises lock onto mine, and suddenly things don’t seem playful anymore.

  He lifts one hand and touches the side of my face. “Yeah.” His splayed fingers push back through my hair. “In fact, adorable isn’t even a good enough word to describe you, Ellie.”

  Pleasure flushes my cheeks.

  Ben leans in to me, so that the tip of his nose brushes the line of my jaw. I hold my breath.

  “And when you blush like that, it drives me completely crazy,” he says quietly. He slips his other hand to my hip.

  I inhale and push Ben onto his back. Scrabble game be damned!

  Swinging my legs around, I climb over top of him. With my thighs straddling his waist, I begin the process of slowly unbuttoning his shirt. Ben’s eyes smolder as he follows the progress of my fingers.

  I graze my nails under the collar of his shirt and watch, entranced, as his skin breaks into chills. He closes his eyes, and lifts his lips to mine. Ungluing me, Ben slides his tongue against the roof of my mouth. His warm breath seeps inside of me and those strong musician fingers dig into my waist, urging me on. I press down against the hard denim of his jeans.

  Ben lets his head drop back against the mattress. “Oh God. Ellie, either you’re trying to kill me, or this is a ploy so that I don’t finish beating your sorry ass at Scrabble.”

  I lean in, letting my moist breath mingle in his hair. “You figured me out. I’m an evil mastermind who is currently plotting to usurp your Scrabble throne with my very inappropriate tongue.”

  Ben’s eyes go back in his head. He groans and squeezes me tighter.

  I giggle and kiss his earlobe. “Do you surrender?”

  Cradling my back, Ben flips me so that I’m beneath him. He licks my lips and drags a finger down the center of my body, pulling the fabric of my sweater as he goes. “Hell yes.”

  His delicious weight has me pinned in place. When he parts my leg with a knee, I fall away. The movement of our mouths becomes harder, more frantic. He works on my clothes. Then there is a thumb, inching toward my naked breast, moving in tantalizing circles over my bare skin. With a palm cupped on me, Ben shifts and murmurs something low in my ear. I don’t understand what he says. I am lost—on a wave, with his fingers like the warm wind on my skin.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Thong or Bikini Briefs?

  “Impulsive Indigo for you,” he shoves the bottle into my hand. “And Perfectly Pink for you,” Mark twists on the couch toward Ainsley.

  “Are you sure?” I ask, turning the bottle over as I inspect the bluish purple nail polish. “I usually stick with reds or pinks.”

  Mark lifts one eyebrow. “Well, you’ve seemed so daring and open to new things lately. I didn’t think you would mind something as trivial as trying a new shade of nail polish.”

  I roll my eyes at the double meaning that Mark’s throwing in my face. When I’m sure that Ainsley’s not looking, I stick my tongue out at him. He throws his head back and laughs openly.

  Payton steps through the door. She thrusts her bag over the back of the couch in one movement. Yanking her earbuds from h
er ears, she slides to the floor at my feet. Then she reaches for a bottle of nail polish from the plastic bin resting in Mark’s lap.

  “Are we doing nails?” She asks.

  “No, we’re solving the world’s energy crisis.” Mark slaps her hand away and searches through the bottles. He hands her a color that falls somewhere on the spectrum between pukey green and mud brown. “This one.”

  Payton contorts her face in a grimace. “That nail polish looks like liquid poo.”

  Mark’s smile is deceptively sweet. “I think liquid poo is more commonly called diarrhea. And, if you want my opinion, I think the color perfectly matches your demeanor.”

  Ainlsey and I laugh, but Payton is not amused. She abruptly moves her bag and launches herself onto the couch, shoving her hips in between Mark and me unceremoniously. She grabs the bin from him.

  “I don’t even know why that color exists in nail polish form, or why we own it. This,” she says, taking out a silvery glitter polish, “is more like it.”

  Mark sighs and scoots his butt over to make the seating arrangement more manageable. He pulls on Ainsley’s hand and motions for her to splay her fingers so that he can reach each nail easily.

  “Who thinks that we should order pizza tonight?” He asks.

  “Mark Temple, you don’t live here,” Payton asserts, finding a long black nail file among the bottles of polish. “So you don’t get a say in what we eat for dinner.”

  I give her one of my looks. The one that would make Darth Vadar shake in his helmet. “No Payton, but if you want him to give you a perfect manicure, you’ll shut up and order the man some pizza.”

  “Good point,” Payton laughs. She pulls out her phone and starts to look up the number for our favorite pizza delivery place. Her dark bangs fall into her eyes. “What does everyone want?”

  “Cheese!” Ainsley chirps.

  “Sundried tomatoes and feta for me.” That’s Mark.

  And a new voice: “Pepperoni and mushroom.”

  I look up. Ben is smiling at me from the door. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest and he’s leaning sideways against the frame.