Page 32 of Whiskey & Honey
“Piper,” he begins while stepping toward me. I put my hand up to stop him. “Fine, I’ll stand over here. Why do you put yourself down all the time? I can tell you one thing, Piper, I would never be bored with you.”
I snort in disbelief.
“Don’t.” The frustration is evident in a single word. “I wouldn’t. I’ve already told you how great I think you are. Shit, I’m putting myself out there, Piper. I’m telling you I want you. That I want to pursue this connection we have.”
A stand-off of sorts happens. Seconds pass while we just stand there, staring at each other without speaking. There is no way to respond to him without making this situation worse. I should walk away and end this conversation. Just as the thought occurs to me Ben takes a small tentative step toward me and continues his frustrated speech.
“Tell me why when you walk in a room, without me even seeing you, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Why is it that the minute you speak I lose all ability to think rationally? Your voice, Piper. God what your voice does to me. When you speak each syllable slips over me like the slowest pour of honey. I would listen to you read the phone book if you wanted.” My breath hitches as he takes another step. “Baby, I want to know why every single time I look in your eyes, so beautiful and kind, that I see so much more than I ever thought was possible.”
A final step and he’s directly in front of me again. My defenses down with each word he speaks. Tears freely flowing as he places those damn hands on my face again. Sighing in resignation. Each movement is precise and cautious, leaving me more conflicted.
The little angel on my shoulder is telling him not to kiss me while the little devil on my other shoulder is encouraging the opposite.
“I’m not going to kiss you again, Piper. I’ve laid it all out on the line. I’ve told you how I feel. The next move is yours. No matter what you decide, I’ll still be your friend. I won’t like it but I’ll do it.”
With that declaration he drops his hands and walks away from me.
Left alone watching his back as he retreats to his tent, I am left with nothing but my thoughts and emotions. Regardless of how beautiful his words are or how he makes me feel, I’m not willing to take the risk of hurting Ashton nor our friendship.
I begrudgingly return to the tent I share with my best friend. As I settle in to my sleeping bag, Ashton rolls over and smiles at me.
“Did you get your alone time?” she asks me between yawns.
“Yeah, I did. Go back to sleep, it’s late.”
“K. Night, love you.”
“Love you, too.”
And, that is why Bentley Sullivan and I will only ever be friends.
The problem with heart-to-heart conversations under the moonlight is the morning after. Unlike romance movies or novels, I didn’t have some epiphany of how Ben and I could pursue our feelings and not hurt Ashton. Just the opposite, actually. I tossed and turned all night, and when I did manage a few minutes of sleep, my dreams were consumed by flashes of the moments we’ve had together. And that damn frog. I’m still not convinced it was just a frog.
After finally emerging from our tent, I join the rest of the group for breakfast in the cabin. Grateful no life-changing decisions need to be made today, I savor my coffee. Only once I’ve made it halfway through my second cup do I notice that Ben isn’t at the table.
Fine, I noticed when I sat down but it’s only just processing.
“Where’s Ben?”
“Nothwer ike,” Landon answers as eggs fall from his mouth. I raise an eyebrow at him and he swallows before offering me a smile. “Another hike, sorry.”
I return his smile as I grab another piece of bacon.
“Piper, are you going to be boring again? Do you plan on just sitting around drinking water and reading?” Ashton teases as she nudges my shoulder with her own.
“Hush up. I had fun yesterday and had a few beers. I actually feel like today may be a perfect day for day drinking.”
“Yes!” Ashton shouts as she offers me her hand for a high five, which I give her. “Tell me more about these day drinking plans? Are we starting with red beers after breakfast? Bloody Marys? Man-whore, do you have any champagne? Mimosas may be what the doctor ordered!”
“Ashton,” I say with a warning in my voice.
“What?” Ashton unconvincingly questions. I just shake my head and stand to put my cup in the sink.
“I assume you are speaking to me?” Arms crossed as he leans back in his chair, Jameson acts as if Ashton calling him a man-whore, or any other name, doesn’t bother him, but his eyes tell a different story.
“Obviously, I don’t see another man-whore around here.”
With the exception of Jameson and Ashton, we all laugh as Owen and Landon start to argue that perhaps they, too, should be considered for the title. Seeing who will blink first, Jameson and Ashton stare at one another, brows raised and lips pursed. The tension is both ridiculous and unnecessary.