Page 46 of Whiskey & Honey

Talk. He wants to talk. Of course he does. As usual, he seems to have all the answers. Unicorn. I can’t be his unicorn. That is far too much pressure for this girl.

Let us not forget the fact that I just acted like a complete whore. A cheaply dressed, panting, spread your legs at the first compliment kind of whore.

This has been a ridiculous night from moment one. I should never have trusted Ashton to make my costume. When I said princess I meant Cinderella-level princess, not stripper.

Fine, I’m Princess Leia. Whatever. Ashton took advantage of my distracted state the last few weeks and my options for tonight were to accept her costume or stay home. Staying home is all I’ve done lately and, quite frankly, I was getting sick of myself. I’ve read every ugly cry book I could get my hands on, watched The Notebook no less than twenty times, and had enough quality time with Ben & Jerry to declare my own intervention.

I’ve relived that moonlit conversation with Ben at the lake over in my head so many times. He laid it all out for me and I still ran scared. The reality is, we could pursue this thing we have between us. We could tell Ashton and yeah, she’d probably freak at first but in the end she loves us both. I’m sure there would be some sort of ceremonial vow or declaration from both of us that we wouldn’t blame her if (when) we broke up, but she’d be okay with it.

I wouldn’t. I know myself enough to admit I would likely screw something up and our, whatever this is, would end and I’d be outcast. Regardless of how close Ash and I are, Ben is her brother. Family trumps friend every single time.

Other than a few encounters at school and the occasional dinner at his parents, Ben has been pretty scarce since the last weekend at the lake. Sure, his disappearance has ensured the awkwardness we seem to ooze every time we are together be non-existent. Only, it’s made me a little too emo for my liking.

Tonight when we talked at the school festival I felt more relaxed than I have in weeks. I knew then that it was stupid to deny that I missed him. After he stepped up and handled Felicity I knew I needed to pull him back into our group. He’s my friend regardless of any attraction we have and I’ve missed him. Plus, he seems to bring a calm to the group, and if I have to listen to Ashton and Jameson insult each other one more time I may start looking for a new place to call home.

That was how I found myself in this barely legal costume at Country Road. I knew Ben wouldn’t disappoint Ashton and blow off the night. It was my one chance to talk to him and clear the air. Only, the moment I saw him I wasn’t thinking about my friend and how he could run interference between Ashton and Jameson. No, I was thinking how I really have a thing for cowboys and how I was almost willing to beg Ashton for her blessing to jump her brother’s bones.

I wasn’t even really drinking. I had one shot and had been nursing an actual soda I played off as a cocktail. Taylor was sympathetic to my plea for help passing off my drinks as alcoholic so that Ashton wouldn’t worry I wasn’t having fun. As the night went on and on I began to think Ben wasn’t going to show. Then he was there.

Perhaps it was all of the romance I had been reading and watching, but I swear the room faded away and he was the only other person in the room. I was overcome with relief and happiness. Genuine unbridled happiness. Of course, the fact that he looked like a fantasy come to life didn’t hurt either.

Then Jameson had to remind Ben that he missed out on hooking up with hot girls and that happiness morphed into hurt. The reality of only being friends with Ben became very clear. Friends are happy for their friends when they date and meet new people. If we’re friends, I will have to watch him with other women. Looking for a new home may still be in the cards.

Of course Ben would be the good guy and offer me a ride home. And, because I’m a masochist, I had to let him hold my hand. Multiple times. I had to curl up next to him. I had to almost kiss him. I’m my own worst enemy and obviously I hate myself.

Then I lost my damn mind and begged him to kiss me. Not just kiss me, but I practically asked him to ravish me right here on the dirty-ass floor of his home. Whore. It’s a wonder I haven’t gone up in flames. That may only be because this isn’t a church. I have no idea. Maybe I should go to church and ask for some sort of forgiveness.

“Hey, you need to stop that.” I’m pulled from my self-loathing by Ben’s voice and his hand on my leg. Looking down at his hand, I can only think of where those fingers have just been and, I won’t lie, I’m about to ask him for a second go-round.

Whore. Oh my God, I’m awful.

Burying my face in my hands, I can only shake my head.

“Come here,” he says, grabbing me and pulling me so that I’m nestled between his legs, my back leaning against his chest. His really hard and muscular chest. I let him wrap his arms around me and, without a second thought, I relax into him and release a sigh. And start crying.

“Whoa, whoa there. What’s wrong?” He pulls me closer, if that’s even possible, and delivers a soft and gentle kiss to the side of my head near my temple.

“Sorry, I just … it’s.” I have no words, just snot and tears.

“Tell me. Piper, you can trust me, what’s wrong?”

Why not? I’ve just thrown myself at him, had the most mind-blowing orgasm of my life, and am dressed like a trollop. What do I have to lose? Nothing. My pride is somewhere over there by the nail gun.

“You must think I’m pathetic. I have been sending signals as mixed as a batch of cookie dough full of nuts and not only begged you to bring me here but then I threw myself at you. I’m so embarrassed.” I begin to pull away from him, but instead of letting me go, he turns me to face him.

“Up here,” he says, patting his leg for me to climb on his lap. Hell to the no. I shake my head vigorously so he knows I really mean no.

“Yes, Piper. Up.”

I don’t even attempt to argue more and climb up on his lap so I’m facing him. Straddling him. This is so many different kinds of bad. But I’ll be damned if this doesn’t feel perfect.

“First, I swear you are going to be the death of me with your constant need to put yourself down. I would like to know who is responsible for making you think that you are less than worth every single amazing thing this world has to offer you. I think that person and I need to have a serious conversation.”

I don’t respond to his comments, I just listen and enjoy his arms around me. This is all going to end and I want to always remember this night and what we’ve shared.

“Now that we have that out of the way, can we talk about how we tell Ashton about us? I think we need to have a plan since she can be a little unpredictable.”

That has my attention. My eyes are wide and his smile is sweet and gentle.