Page 23 of Teach Me To Sin
“I’m serious. I even got arrested once.” If you can count a ride in a cop car and a stern talking to.
He shakes his head with that infectious giggle that belongs to no one but him. “So proud of you. Keep bragging about how hardcore you were.” Hesitating, he searches for words. When his fingers slip into my loose hand and squeeze gently, I should pull away. Instead, I squeeze back. “We’re special. This is special, I can feel it. I don’t want this to end just because I was horny, not before we get a chance to take over the world.” He drops his forehead to rest against my chest, his voice getting quieter. “You want to give me a hug, right? That’s all you ever wanted.”
Lowering my head until my nose brushes the tips of his hair, I make a sound that doesn’t meanyesornoor anything.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “After this we’ll practice, I promise.”
This is all. Then we’ll practice.I have a sinking feeling I’m going be saying those words again and again, clinging to our boundaries as they keep stretching. No matter what, we’ll hit a dead end eventually, as firm as a stone wall. It doesn’t matter if my father is locked up or not—I carry his name and his legacy. I’ll forever be defined by the public’s opinion of him, and controlled by the knowledge that if I dated Benji, he would watch from prison and sayyou thought you were better than me, but you’re just the same.
But right now, it’s too late. I’ve already slipped my arms around his slender body and tugged it to mine, his forehead nestled in my neck. I rest my face in his sweet-smelling hair and just breathe. The sex blew my mind, but this is so much more powerful–holding and being held, joking about pizza, feeling happy and wanted for who I really am.
Benji tips up his face without an agenda, just to study me. With my heart pounding like this is our first time, like he didn’t deep throat me a few days ago, I lightly brush my lips against his. He makes a small, comforting sound and kisses me back, letting me set the pace. I find the tip of his tongue with mine and savor his delicate taste without pushing deeper. After a long time, I pull back and tease my fingers slowly through his soft hair.
“Promise you’re not scared of me now,” he murmurs, half joking and half serious. He’s uncertain and pure, very different from the Benji who coaxed three men into frantic back-closet sex.
“I’m not. But I don’t want us to get hurt by pretending this can go somewhere when it can’t.” He opens his mouth, but I hold up a finger. For once, he listens to me. “I’m not saying you have to decide between swimming and me, because there’s no choice. I’d never let you give up your potential for that. So I’m off-limits.”
His sulky eyes flick between mine. “Being told what I can and can’t do isn’t my strong point.”
“Learn to listen to your coach, then.” I snag his massive hood and yank it all the way down over his face.
“What if you waited until after I retire?” The hood hides his expression and muffles the tone of his voice. It’s such an inconceivable thing to say that I just stare at him.
“What?”
Pulling the hood off, he shakes his head like a puppy to un-flatten his hair. “Nothing. It was a joke.” The air sits thick and awkward for a minute, before he sidles up to me with a small smirk. “If this is it, I want one more good kiss.”
“Benji…” I look guiltily at the door, even though we’re alone in the building. “You said we would practice now.”
He hops onto the wide plastic bench running along the wall and balances on the edge with his hands tucked in his pockets. “I’ll work so hard after this, every day, all the shoulder workouts.” His grin widens into coy mischief. “But first, come and get me.”
Every time I take a swipe at him, he scuttles back along the bench and forces me to give chase, until we’re both laughing breathlessly. I was forced to grow up overnight when I discovered my father’s abuse, and again the day he got thrown in prison. Sometimes I feel like a fifty-year-old in a thirty-year-old’s body. I can’t remember the last time I just played around with someone, carefree and ridiculous.
Finally, I lunge and snag him around the waist. With a yelp, he wraps his legs around my hips and makes me lift him, our foreheads together. “One more.”
“Onemore.” As soon as I say the words, he takes my mouth hungrily. Not frantic like the other day, but as delicate as a promise to wait for someone until they retired. His hands cup the back of my head as his tongue slides deep, like it belongs inside me.
Then it’s over and I’m setting him down on his feet. “I hope you’ve been training, because we have a lot to get through today.”
“I practiced the stuff you showed me at home,” he offers sheepishly as he changes into his suit.
I’ve done a good job of not thinking too hard about Benji, like where he goes after practice and what he does every day. Something irresponsible deep inside me suspects I don’t want to know. But based on the clues he’s let slip–in-home pools and five-figure watches and that suit he wore at the Dock Club–I’m pretty sure he’s filthy rich. Whether that matters, I have no idea.
I’m distracted when he takes a lazy, shallow dive, then props his elbows on the edge and squints up at me. “You should race me. For all I know, you’re just pretending you know how to swim.”
“Benji, seriously. We’re training. I have a real meet in mind for you in a couple weeks, but only if you practice.” I push his elbow with my toe. “Every time you talk to me, I’m adding 100m to your warmup.”
“Come on.” His hand darts out and wraps around my ankle. “Prove you’re better than me.”
“I don’t swim anymore.”
“I’m not asking you toswimswim.” He tugs impatiently. “We’re just having fun. That thing people do?”
When I jerk away and stumble back a step, confusion flickers across his face.
“Don’t do that.”
“You’re a swim teacher, but you won’t get in the water?”