The Stillness Of You(7)

I turned in a full circle, my decision made as I nodded.

"Yeah, it is."





Chapter Six





Georgia





I was up at my usual four in the morning staring at the bottle of   klonopin in my hands. I'd shoved it beneath the underwear in my top   drawer because I hated looking at it, but this morning I sat on the edge   of my bed, fingers running along the top of the container as I stared   at concrete evidence that yes, I was damaged.                       
       
           



       

I wasn't whole or normal, no matter how much I tried to forget about   what the pills I took meant, or how when my mind started to race, it was   enough to freak me the hell out and I would eat klonopin like it was   fucking candy.

I was afraid to take the drug on a regular basis because of Zoe. She was   a girl I met when I was in the hospital and she'd been totally  addicted  to klonopin. She lived and breathed the shit and it made her  into a  real life zombie. The Walking Dead had nothing on her. She was a  boring,  washed out walker, who did nothing but read the same book over  and over  again and haunt the halls of Oak Run in pajamas with little  pink  panthers all over them. God, she didn't even wash her hair unless  one of  the nurses helped her.

I had a feeling she traded sexual favors from some of the other   patients, in exchange for their klonopin. Drugs were easy enough to hide   if you knew what to do.

I knew I was supposed to take klonopin regularly in addition to my   regular dose of lithium, but I was so afraid of the addiction and how   the pills made me feel, that I'd been weaning myself off them for   several weeks now. I wasn't having too much trouble sleeping and I   hadn't had a manic episode since the infamous walk through the quad next   to my dorm dressed in only my underwear, brandishing a confiscated   steak knife.

I wasn't back there anymore. I wasn't. I was good. I was calm and as long as I kept taking my lithium I'd be fine.

I'll be fine.

With a sigh, I fell off of bed and tossed the bottle back into my   underwear drawer before crossing the room to stand by the window, so   that I could look into the dark. This was my favorite time of day, this   little slip of time between sleep and awake and down there it was quiet   and calm.

It was also officially the Fourth of July and Ben wanted to celebrate.   He was thrilled that he'd managed to get hold of the real estate agent   in charge of the house, and he was to meet with her on Saturday, the   fifth.

He was making an offer. He was here to stay.

I let my blinds slip back into place and paced my room a bit, my mind   reeling back as I thought of the night before and how I'd fallen under   his spell as surely as if he'd made me drink a Ben Lancaster potion.

I wanted him in a way I'd never experienced before, not with anyone. Not   even Travis Bartlett, the guy I'd given my virginity too after months   of heavy petting and night that had included a bottle of vodka and a   half a bag of weed. This was different. This was grown up and real and I   had no clue how to deal with it.

I wanted Ben Lancaster in a way that ached. It was as if in the space of   a few days, he'd leeched into my bones or his soul had somehow melted   into mine. Was that even possible? Or was I delusional?

I glanced back at my underwear drawer, a frown on my face. Had I   overdone the lithium? Should I be taking the klonopin or was my mind   just scrambled and confused? Was it possible that I was reading   everything wrong?

An image of his dark eyes assaulted me and my heart jumped. No way had I   misread things. What I was feeling was real. It was real and it was   amazing.

Ben Lancaster was like the yummiest piece of chocolate ever. And it   wasn't just because he was the hottest guy I'd ever met. Sure, he could   give any movie star a run for their money with his tall, dark good  looks  and a body to die for. He was completely and utterly lickable,  fuckable  and wildly successful. But I'd been around guys like him  before-I'd  fucked guys like him before-yet he was different.

I didn't want to fuck Ben. I wanted to matter.

Ben Lancaster was the whole package. He was smart, funny, with a wicked   sense of humor. He had his shit together. I could tell. The guy wasn't   out partying every night, banging chicks because he could, and trust  me,  if he wanted to have sex with a different girl or two every night  he  could.

I can't lie. I'd done some research-Google can be a girl's best friend   these days-but there was nothing to find. I looked at pictures of him   while he'd played with the Kings and even a few of him at the clubs, but   there were no wild stories, no inappropriate photos or videos.

He seemed to be the guy every girl dreamed about bringing home, and he   was so far from what I deserved that I just knew if we acted on our   attraction, it would end badly.

Ben Lancaster was the total opposite of me. Of what I had been and what I   was afraid to become once more. And I didn't know what to do about it.

I felt his interest. The way his eyes lingered a tad too long or his   hands touched the small of my back whenever he could. We'd spent the   entire day together and by evening my body thrummed with repressed   passion and the need to connect.                       
       
           



       

We'd stopped for dinner at a little Italian place on our way back to the   loft, and it seemed as if only a few hours had passed, but it was   nearly midnight by the time we made it back.

We'd talked about his plans for the house and I was more than happy to   sit and listen to him. In that moment, I didn't want to be anywhere else   but with him. I wanted to be in his orbit, to soak up his energy and   goodness. I wanted to crawl into his lap, sink my hands into his hair   and open his mouth with my own.

I'd watched him and I had wondered what it felt like to be with him. To   get naked with him. To have sex with him because surely laying down  with  Ben Lancaster wasn't anything like the hookups I'd had in the  past.

That's because my hookups over the last few years were usually drug and alcohol fueled.

My cheeks were hot and I swore as I grabbed my running gear out of the closet.

Shit, I needed to focus on something other than Ben Lancaster. The clock   beside my bed glowed nearly five now and I threw my hair into a   ponytail, pulled on my running gear, and headed for the kitchen to grab   water.

I'd just opened the fridge door when that familiar sliver of energy told me I wasn't alone anymore.

I turned around-as nonchalantly as I could-and hoped he couldn't see the   exploding pulse at the base of my neck. Already my nipples were   pebbling and I thanked everything that was holy-or even remotely   holy-that I'd worn my padded bra with the extra inch of padding.

I had to take a second or two before I could even speak, and used a few more to study him in the dim lighting.

He hadn't shaved, so his jaw was once again shadowed with dark stubble.   God, I loved that look-that I just got out of bed and I'm all man, kind   of look. His hair was rumpled as if it hadn't been brushed, though he   was dressed in a Nike T-shirt, nylon shorts and he wore running shoes.   He smelled of mint toothpaste. My favorite.

"I thought I'd join you."

Shit, his voice touched on that note again, the one that gave me shivers   and I cleared my throat, hoping I wouldn't squeal like a stupid mouse   when I eventually managed to say a few words.

"Oh. Good, I mean I hope you can keep up to me." Idiot. The guy could   probably run a four minute mile and not even break a sweat.

"I'll try, but promise you'll go easy on me."

His grin was contagious. "We'll see," I answered lightly, tossing him a bottle.

"I thought maybe we could run the Rocky steps?"

I laughed and shook my head. The Rocky steps. He was adorable. "Sure, follow me."

We headed out into the quiet early morning, and followed the trails of   fog that fell along the sidewalks. There were a few other runners out,   but it felt like we had the world to ourselves and for the moment I   enjoyed both the silence and the feel of Ben running beside me.

We didn't say much. We just put one foot in front of the other and by   the time we reached the Philadelphia Museum of Art, the sun was peeking   through the darkness. I stopped at the bottom and glanced around. We  had  the place to ourselves.

Ben's damp T-shirt clung to his chest and stretched across his wide   shoulders, and as he turned slightly I couldn't help but notice the way   it clung to his back, filling in all the hard nooks and crannies of his   very male body. When I dragged my gaze up to his face, my heart jerked   so badly I almost choked. His eyes were on me and the look within them   made the heat in my belly curl hard and fast.