Earthbound

A few minutes have passed, and my eyes are already weary from glaring at the tubes. Benson takes a breath and I can practically feel him getting ready to say something when the middle tube pops out of sight.

Benson gasps as he drops the rest of the ChapSticks. He scrambles out of the way—almost knocking me over—and they scatter across the carpet. “Holy mother of Max!”

“Ssssshhh!” I whisper-command, putting my hand over his mouth and stepping right up close to him.

Right against him.

I look up, our faces only a few inches apart, and my chest freezes. My hand lowers slowly, his lips soft against my fingertips, until only one finger rests on his bottom lip. A distant part of me hears Benson’s breath, unsteady as it speeds up, his eyes burning into mine.

I’m not sure who reaches out first or how it happens amid everything going on, but in an instant my fingers are grasping at his hair, pulling his face down to me, his hand behind my neck, pulling me up, tilting my mouth to his. His lips are desperate on mine, seeking, demanding, taking.

But how can they take what I’m savagely giving?

His whole body trembles as he steps forward, pressing against me, trapping me between the bookshelf and the warmth of him. The corners of books dig into my back as our bodies meet, push, wrap. I grasp at the soft fabric of Benson’s sweater-vest, and my fingers dig into his ribs just beneath. His hands are still behind my neck, my head—fingers weaving through my hair as he brings my mouth harder against his—but the length of his body rocked snugly against mine feels like its own kind of embrace.

I rip my mouth away to gulp for air but return immediately to his lips, needing more of him. Tiny groans vibrate in his throat and they make me want to hold him tighter, kiss him deeper. I don’t know how long it lasts—forever and yet not nearly long enough—before Benson throws his head back and lets out a long sigh. His hands frame my face and he lets his forehead rest against mine as we both struggle for air. His breath is hot on my lips and when I breathe, it smells like him.

And something in me knows that everything is different now.

Better? I hope so.

“Is this the part where I’m supposed to apologize?” Benson asks, and his voice is so low, so weak, it makes me want to cry all over again.

“Are you sorry?” I whisper. And I don’t know what I want to hear.

“Never,” he says, his whisper barely audible.

A strange joy fills me and this time it’s not overwhelming. It’s calm. Peaceful almost. “Then don’t apologize.”

But he stands up, his hands sliding away from me to take a new stance on his hips, and he looks at the bookshelf just to my left. “The timing, it was bad, you were crying, and I … I should have, no, I shouldn’t have—”

“Benson,” I interrupt. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, I didn’t mean—”

“Benson,” I say, more firmly. I step forward and slide my hands down his arms, forcing his fists off his hips and sliding my fingers between his. “It’s okay.” I don’t want to ask, but I know I have to. “Is this why you dislike Quinn so much?”

Benson swallows hard before he speaks. “He has a name now?”

“Yes.”

“It’s one of the reasons,” he finally admits. “But the others are just as valid.”

My mind is having a seriously hard time thinking rationally. “What about Dana McCraven?”

Benson’s face flushes so red it’s almost maroon. “I made her up,” he admits. “I didn’t want you to see how puppy sick I was.”

“Really?” I ask, genuinely shocked.

And pleased.

“You asked one day and I just … came up with a name. It wasn’t supposed to become such a big lie. It was supposed to help me keep my distance,” he mumbles. Then his eyes dart up to mine for just an instant and the emotion I see makes my heart pound. “Didn’t work, I guess.”

“Well, I was convinced,” I say with a giggle.

“Dana McCraven can’t hold a candle to you,” Benson murmurs, grinning.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” We could have been kissing like this for months! I want to shout.

“I didn’t want to lose what we had,” he mumbles. “I really liked you coming in every day.”

I start to grin like a sappy idiot.

Benson likes me.

Me!

He always did.

It’s a tiny spark of goodness in a world that has become so confusing lately that I feel like I’ve forgotten what to do with good news.

But, of course, my eyes choose that moment to catch sight of the ChapStick on the floor. “Benson!” I gasp, my hands tightening and probably hurting his fingers. “They’re gone!”

There’s only one lonely tube of ChapStick lying innocently on the carpet.

My face turns back to Benson and I resist the urge to grab the front of his shirt and shake him. “You saw them, right? I’m not imagining this. There were six, right?” My voice is getting high and loud and Benson rubs his hands up and down my arms as he shushes me.

“Yes, I saw them. They were there.” His eyes are wide again, his jaw set as he and I both stare at the carpet where the tubes all landed, as if they’ll suddenly appear again.

Our heads jerk up as Marie’s voice fills the library via the PA system. “The library will be closing in five minutes. Please bring your books to the front for checkout. The library will be closing in five minutes.”

“I have to go. I told Reese I’d be right back.”

Benson’s jaw is clenched so tightly I want to run my finger along it, make him relax. But after a second he says, “We need to talk about this. Tomorrow.”

“You work tomorrow afternoon. Should we just meet—”

“Not here,” Benson says firmly. “Maybe my place?”

My place—a pleasant ripple travels down my spine at the thought. But when Benson leans down to pick up the remaining ChapStick, I’m completely sober again.

“I’ll call in sick if I have to,” Benson says, running his hands through his hair and looking off into the distance. “I can figure this out,” he says softly. Then he turns and carefully takes my hand. “We can figure this out.”

I nod, feeding off his confidence. Mine is gone.

“Here,” he says, handing me a random book. “Go check this out. That way Marie won’t ask questions.”

“Okay.” I hold the book to my chest and start to walk away, then turn and look at him, desperate to kiss him again.