“Thanks,” he says. “I might be odd to say I see a house like a giant canvas. It can give off feelings just like a work of art.”
I can’t help but think what kind of feeling does my little condo give off? Shabby-geek? Is that even a thing? If not, it needs to be.
“Hungry?” he asks, turning back to the stairs.
“I pretty much will always answer yes to that,” I say with a smile. “Maybe I shouldn’t, but I’m not gonna lie.”
“I do always answer yes to that,” he says and jogs down the stairs. We go back into the kitchen and Ben opens the fridge. “I’m not really a good cook,” he says apologetically. “But I’ll try my best for you.”
“You’re sweet,” I tease. “And really, I appreciate it. But if you want to order pizza or something I won’t hold it against you.”
Ben considers. “Pizza does sound good. Extra cheese and pepperoni?”
“And breadsticks?”
“Always breadsticks.”
He orders the food and then we go into the modern living room to watch TV. He pulls me into his lap as soon as we sit on the couch. I snuggle close to him, breathing in his cologne and feeling his firm muscles press against me. I’m tempted to kiss him and slip my hand inside his pants, but know the pizza guy will be here soon and we’d have to break up the hanky-panky in a few.
“What do you want to watch?” I ask him.
“I don’t really care,” he says and leans over to kiss me. “Whatever you want to is fine with me.”
I take the remote and flip through the movie channels, finding the second Hobbit movie starting in a few minutes. “Have you seen the first one?” I ask.
“I’ve seen them all, and all the Lord of the Rings movies,” he replies and it takes all I have not to jump his bones right there. “And read the books. The Hobbit was my favorite book as a kid.”
I’m smiling and I can’t stop. “I loved—still love it too! I got in trouble in the seventh grade for reading it during class.”
“You really were a rebel in your day,” he jokes.
“Oh, the worse. Reading in class, sneaking comics into church, and then it all went to hell once I got a cell phone and computer. I was a girl on a mission and my mission was trouble.”
Ben’s laughing, eyes sparkling as he looks at me. “And now?”
“I only use my superpowers for good, remember?”
“Oh, right. How could I forget?”
“What games do you play?” I ask, eyeing the Xbox. He has a PlayStation too, thank God.
“I haven’t played much lately,” he confesses. “I’ve been busier than I thought. I like Halo.”
I slowly turn to him. “We can play for a bit.”
“You know how to play?” he asks.
“Uh, yeah. And I’m good. I’ll probably kick your ass.”
“I doubt that,” Ben says, playfully elbowing me. “Loser gets naked?”
“Get ready to take your clothes off,” I challenge and straighten up.
He looks me up and down. “Yours will be hitting the floor first.”
“Sure, they will.”
He gets two controllers and pops in the game and sits close next to me. I haven’t played in a while but don’t doubt my skills. The virtual arena is my stomping ground. We get started and I again consider letting Ben think he’s the better player and beat me, but damn it, I just can’t. I’ve killed his character four times by the time the pizza gets here.
We set up the food on the coffee table, and Ben brings out beer from the fridge. We keep playing as we eat, getting louder and louder the more we get into the game, and the more beers we down.
Two hours later, we’re still playing, still drinking, and still having a blast. Ben’s phone rings and he takes his eyes off the TV.
“It’s my mom,” he says, letting me know why he’s ignoring the call.
“I don’t always answer my mother either,” I say. “Especially now because she keeps bugging me about my brother’s wedding that’s coming up.”
“When is he getting married?” Ben asks and shoots at me. I dodge out of the way just in time, but get hit by another player.
“Dammit!” I mutter. “The weekend after the fourth of July, but I don’t remember the exact date. I should know this. I’m in the wedding.”
Take that, cocksucker! I kill the online player who shot me, hoping I can heal before I get hit again.
“Nice,” Ben says. “Are you close with your future sister-in-law?”
“Not at all,” I chortle. “She’s not a horrible person, but she’s not someone I’d be friends with if she wasn’t being legally bound to my family either.” I shake my head. “Even my brother says his fiancé is a bridezilla. There’s like over a month or so left until the wedding and she’s freaking out over RSVPs. Hence my mom calling. I don’t see why they even sent me an invitation. They know I’m going.”