Deep (Stage Dive 4)

“Sounds like you both hauled ass to get out of a bad situation.”

“Hmm.” I rested my head against the back of the car seat. The man was far too easy to talk to. I liked it. “That’s it really. I work part time at the same bookstore as Anne.”

He half smiled, and sadly even that made me giddy. God, he was beautiful. I never wanted this car ride to end. We could drive to Wisconsin for all I cared. Just point the hood east and keep going until we ran out of gas.

“Messed you up in what way?” he asked.

That stopped the happy. “Not a topic I like to talk about.”

He just waited, drawing me out, playing me at my own game. Sneaky.

“I hung out with some losers. Drank, did drugs. Speed and pot, nothing too hard-core. I ditched school and did things I shouldn’t have. Dangerous things. Dated the wrong guy for a while.” My fingernails dug into me through the fabric of my jeans. All of those memories were ugly. I’d been so young and idiotic. “Then I got busted stealing. The guy who owned the shop kept saying he was going to call the police, but Anne managed to talk him out of it. That scared the shit out of me. Plus, seeing how upset Anne got about it. It finally got through to me that I wasn’t the only one hurting. I stopped sneaking out at night and messing around, started going to school again. I was just so angry that they couldn’t keep their shit together and be like a normal mom and dad.”

“I bet.”

“Though what even is normal? Seems like everyone’s parents are divorced these days.”

“Yeah. Just about.”

“Doesn’t make for much of an example, does it?”

He made a humming noise of agreement.

“So that’s why I’m into psychology. One day I hope to be able to help other kids ride out the rough patches.”

He smiled.

“Anyway, enough of me and my early-teen angst.” I crossed my legs, turning toward him in the seat. “When did you start playing bass?”

“Fourteen or so. Dave was always crazy about guitars, and then Mal’s mom got him the kit. Jimmy’d already decided he was gonna be the singer. I had an uncle who owned an old bass guitar. Grandpa talked him into giving it to me.”

“The same Grandpa who gave you the truck? He sounds awesome.”

“He was, Lizzy. He really was.”

We pulled up outside my apartment building. Funny, I’d never hated the sight of it before, but I didn’t want the trip to end. Time alone with Ben, talking, was special. I clasped my hands in my lap, studying the lines of his face. A moment later, he turned off the engine.

“Thank you for the lift home,” I said.

“Any time. I mean that.” He rested a hand on the steering wheel, shifting slightly to look my way.

Happy chemicals stirred inside of me. Lustful, crazy things telling me to jump him, to climb all over him and cover his gorgeous face in kisses. To rub my jaw against his beard and see if it felt soft or not. To let him see exactly how he affected me, how adored he could be.

“Kills me when you look at me like that,” he murmured.

I just smiled. My tongue was too tangled for any attempt at wit. Thing was, I couldn’t not look at him like that. It just wasn’t in me to be any other way, not with him.

He exhaled hard, staring out the windshield. “I go to that club a couple of times a week to pick up. Place like that? Easy as hell. Pretty much the only reason people go there is to get drunk and get laid.”

“I see.”

“I’m serious.”

“Okay, Ben. You’re not a virgin. Duly noted. Me neither, by the way.”

Dreamy dark eyes pinned me in place, owning me. He licked his lips. Every time he did that my hormones erupted into the song of joy, a full orchestra plus heavenly choir accompanying. The whole shebang. It was ridiculous.

“Fuck, you’re pretty,” he sighed. “Make me wish for all sorts of shit I shouldn’t.”

“Who says you shouldn’t?” I asked, leaning closer.

“Mal. Your sister.”

“This isn’t about them. It’s about you and me.”

“Sweetheart. Liz…” The deep, dirty way he said my name, holy shit. His voice rumbled through me, lighting fires and causing chaos everywhere it went. I’d never be the same.

“Yeah?” I leaned closer, and then closer still, heart thundering and lips at the ready. Never in my life had kissing someone seemed so important. I needed his mouth on mine. His breath and his body, all of him.

Nothing else mattered.

I turned, propping a knee beneath me to help with the height difference. Hesitant but hopeful smile in place, I put my hand on his shoulder, getting closer. Fuck waiting on him to make the first move. Time to go after what I wanted.

“Liz.”

“Yeah?”

That’s when it registered. Ben’s body language was all wrong. The man wasn’t moving into me, wanting me back. I was alone in this.

“You don’t…” Words caught in my dry throat, sticking. I withdrew my hand.

“I can’t.”

“What?”

He stared straight ahead. “You should go in.”

Whatever face I had on, it wasn’t happy. “You want me to go?”

“It’s for the best.”

“It’s for the best,” I parroted, staring perplexed at the dogged shadows on his face.

“I can’t do this, Liz. I can’t do it to the band.”

“And you answer to the band for who you date?”

“We’re not dating.”

I cleared my throat. “No, we’re not dating. But god, we spent hours talking and texting to each other.”

The look he gave me was tortured. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“Right.” All of the emotion inside me felt huge, overwhelming. Still my mind worked, turning all of the evidence over, trying to figure out where I’d lost the track. How the fuck I came to be flailing in the woods. “I think you were a little bored, a little lonely maybe, so you played with me.”

With a grimace he turned away.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

Nothing.

At least now I knew where I stood. As if that was any real consolation. I pushed open the passenger’s side door, climbing down.

“Liz—”

I slammed the truck door shut, cold metal stinging the palms of my hands. Done with him. I was so damn done with him. The bitter night air slapped me in the face, waking me right the hell up. How fucking embarrassing. I’d felt so much and been so sure. Went to show you how much I knew.