Ben gets along great with everyone, and everyone likes him. I’ve never been ashamed of anyone I’ve brought home with me, but I’ve never exactly been proud of them either. And I’m not talking about his incredible good looks. I’m talking about Ben. Who he is. What he does. He’s just an all-around great guy.
The sun is almost set and I get hit with a blast of hot, humid air when we leave the house and step out onto the deck. My entire family is crowded on it, all sitting in a circle around a fire pit that is probably dangerously close to the house. But in our family, we drink and roast marshmallows wherever the fuck we want. Even if it’s against a fire code.
“I love nights like this,” Mom says. “When it’s still hot after the sun sets.”
I put my hand on Ben’s and pick up a red plastic cup from the deck floor. It might be mine. It might not be. I’m just drunk enough to not care. As long as alcohol gets in my mouth, I’m fine.
“I love summer,” one of my cousins chimes in. “It always goes by so fast after the Fourth.”
“Especially for us teachers,” Danielle says, and another cousin agrees. He teaches math at the high school here in town.
“I can’t wait for fall,” Mindy says. “I live for pumpkin spice, leggings, and Ugg boots.”
I cannot hide the horror on my face. Not only is Mindy an insult to the female race, she’s the most basic one at that. I stare at her like she just got caught not washing her hands after taking a shit, then shake myself. I don’t care, remember?
We continue talking and drinking, then turn our chairs when the fireworks start. We “ooo” and “aww” for nearly an hour, eat some more, talk, laugh, and continue drinking. The party breaks up around midnight. I walk Erin to her car, give her a hug goodbye, and promise to call once Ben and I get back into Grand Rapids.
Zoey and Mindy leave without saying bye, which is fine by me. Jake, Danielle, Ben, and I help my mom and aunts clean up most of the mess until the others are too tired to keep going on. Danielle kisses Jake goodnight, saying she’ll see him in the morning. I see the question in Ben’s eyes, so I’m not surprised when he asks me about it once we slip outside.
“They say they are waiting for marriage,” I explain and collect red Solo cups from the deck, pitching them into a recycling bin.
“Waiting to have sex?” Ben asks like he can’t believe it.
“I haven’t asked for details, like if just slipping the tip in counts or not, but yeah, they say they haven’t slept together yet.”
Ben’s nostril flare. “People still do that?”
I laugh. “Some people, yeah, I guess. Hmm … maybe I should go cold turkey and save myself too.”
“Hell no,” Ben says. “I love fucking you.”
The smile is back on my face. “I assumed so. And I love fucking you too.”
“You better.”
I shake my head and run my eyes over him. He’s still shirtless, somehow not sunburned, and just … amazing. I’m floating above the sand, looking down at the shore. Is this real life?
Fireworks continue to go off, reflecting on the lake. We end up on the edge of the dock, swinging our feet above the water, arms around each other. We talk about everything and anything, and the next thing I know, the sun is creeping up, and storm clouds are rolling in on the horizon. Exhaustion hits me when I stand (and probably dehydration; it’s hot and I drank a lot) and I hold onto Ben to keep from faltering. We walk down the boardwalk hand in hand, and thunder rumbles distantly over the lake.
“Good timing,” Ben says slowly. He yawns and pulls me in. I twist and wrap my arms around him. The wind picks up and he kisses me. Time stands still. My heart races and everything is finally perfect in my world.
It’s been just over a month but I think I’m in love with him.
Fuck. Me. This shouldn’t be happening so soon. He pushes his tongue into my mouth and I’m hot and wet in an instant and ready to throw him down in the sand. Actually, who cares what “should” be. I’ve never been one for rules anyway. We tangle closer together, stumbling over the sun-warped wooden boards until we get to the cabin. I rummage through my purse for the key.
We strip out of the little clothes we have on. I yank down Ben’s swim shorts and he pulls my dress over my head, then slowly pulls the strings on my clamshell bikini top. My breasts are still damp from the material, and feel cold under Ben’s warm hands. Sand sprinkles on the floor and rubs my skin. He unties my bottoms and we head to the bathroom and into the shower.
The water is still cold when we step in, but we’re so wrapped up in each other neither of us cares. Ben kisses me, then trails his lips down my neck and onto my breast. He pulls back, makes a face, and spits.