Faith Sullivan - Meant for Me

His hand is larger than mine as my thumb grazes the soft hair on his knuckles. Instead of drawing away at my caress, he grips my hand tighter until we’re standing eye to eye. He’s slightly taller than I am, but not by much, and he smells so good—like a woodsy combination of musk and pine. My lips part involuntarily. To cover my indiscretion, I whistle sharply before reluctantly withdrawing my hand.

“Ivy, I’m surprised Eric would have another teenage guy within spitting distance of you after what happened with Ryan.” I don’t mean to insult him in such an offensive way, but I have to regain the upper hand. It’s such an inappropriate thing for me to say, and his eyes widen in shock as Ivy gasps behind me. Well played, Carter. You idiot.

“Don’t talk to Ben like that, Will. What the hell?” Ivy protests, smacking me in the shoulder when I don’t turn around. I glance over at Eric and luckily he didn’t hear what I said. He’s too busy hugging a woman who appears to be his mother.

“You know about Ryan?” Ben’s deep baritone greets my ears as he nudges me out of the way to help Ivy down. The contact is ever so brief but it shoots an electric current all through my body. Shit, is he coming on to me? Or is he just used to being physical with other guys as a member of the football team? It is a tackle sport, after all.

“Yeah, he does, but can we not talk about it right now?” Ivy pleads, smoothing down the front of her jeans. “I have enough on my mind without worrying about that.”

“But you promised you were going to think about it,” Ben insists, flicking a quick glance in my direction.

“Think about what?” I inquire, desirous to have him talk to me.

“Ben, a lot happened since you saw me last, okay? I can only handle one member of the Price family at a time and right now his stepsister is the one I have to deal with first,” Ivy says, yawning halfway through her reply. “In the meantime, why don’t you help Will bring his stuff around to the woodshed?”

“The woodshed? Man, that’s a come down from L.A. I thought you were supposed to be Mr. Hollywood?” Ben smirks when he sees that the majority of the suitcases in the back of the truck are mine. “What are you doing back here anyway?”

“He’s here to help me with the screenplay,” Ivy butts in, not giving me a chance to respond. “You boys behave yourselves, all right? I’m going over to say hello to Eric’s parents and Jack and his wife.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ben replies saucily, checking out her ass as she walks away. Maybe we don’t bat for the same team after all. I better find out.

“Who’s the chick on the porch?” I prod, enjoying how his jersey is riding up over his back as he reaches for the luggage. His jeans are practically spray-painted on, and they dip below his hips as he leans over the cab. Damn, I think he’s going commando as the top of his crack comes into view. If we were alone and I was certain of his intentions, I’d pull them all the way down until that glorious posterior was on full display.

“The flavor of the week,” Ben responds flippantly as he tucks two of my bags under his arm. “Why stick with one when you can sample them all?”

“I take it you don’t discriminate when it comes to screwing around.” I leave my response decidedly open-ended, allowing him to take this conversation in whatever direction he wants it to go.

We’ve moved beyond the gathering out front where it’s a lot more private. I want him to open up to me. I hate the game I’m forced to play with other guys. It’s such a delicate balance when I’m not sure if someone is feeling me out or not. I don’t want to come on too strong if he’s not, but I’d regret not making my intentions clear if he is.

“You could say that,” Ben replies noncommittally. His back is to me as we march single file against the side of the house so I can’t see his face. Is he teasing me or turning me down? I can’t tell.

“Why are you here anyway?” I ask, deciding to change tactics. “Are you Eric’s cousin or something?”

“Yeah, right,” he snickers as we enter the clearing in the backyard, the woodshed looming before us. “I work for him part-time at the garden center. It’s a lot of manual labor, but it helps pay for shit like gas and—”

“An endless supply of condoms,” I interject, never taking my eyes off his chiseled profile that is now bathed in moonlight.

“You’re pretty funny, you know that? I pegged you for more of a dick.” He shakes his head while trudging forward, not even winded from carrying my heavy bags.

“Why do say that? You don’t even know me,” I mutter.

“I saw you making a move on Ivy in the diner. You could’ve fooled me,” he chuckles. If he’s baiting me, I’m falling right into his trap. I’m caught off guard by his admission that he noticed me around town last summer.

“About what?” I question, hoping this is going in the direction I think it is. “Being a player?”

“More like being gay,” he states plainly, lining up my suitcases against the woodshed as he turns to face me.

“Is that something you’re into?” I ask, swallowing hard.

“Could be, if I met the right guy,” he appraises me before stepping forward, his mouth inches from mine.

Suddenly, the kitchen lights flick on, throwing us in the spotlight. I instinctively take a step back, regretting it as I do. Ben sighs dishearteningly over my reaction. He’s young and brash. He doesn’t know how much this could complicate matters. He thinks he can have whomever he wants without any consequences. I used to be that guy. I know the mindset. It’s dangerous, especially in a town like this. I can tell he’s had everything he’s ever wanted handed to him, no questions asked. But he needs to realize he’s putting his whole life in jeopardy if he’s going to pursue me openly. It’s not worth it. I’m used to lurking in the shadows. He’ll get used to it too. Besides, he’s hooked now. There’s no going back.

“Meet me back here around midnight,” I urge, licking my lips in anticipation. “Knock three times so I know it’s you.”

He smiles mischievously at me. “I’ll park at the garden center and walk over from there. This way, Eric and Ivy won’t hear my truck.”

“Will! Ben! C’mon inside. It’s time to eat,” Ivy yells out, sliding open the kitchen window.

We both jump guiltily at the sound of her voice.

“We’ll be right there,” I manage to shout back.

I tilt my head in the direction of the house, and we match our strides while hiking up the grassy hill. I’m excited about our scheduled rendezvous. Ben fascinates me. I need to know more about him.

“Have you ever been with a man?” I ask, whispering as we approach the house.

“A boy. I wouldn’t call him a man,” he replies, and I feel myself grow hot. “Not like you anyway.”

Stealing the last slice of darkness before we reach the porch, I latch my pinky finger onto his. “Tonight, I’m all yours.” For the first time all evening, I detect he’s having a hard time breathing as I stroll past him and open the front door. “Are you coming?”

“I plan on it,” he says, brushing past me as he enters the house. “All night long.”

Now it’s my turn to catch my breath as he saunters away from me, throwing an arm around his make-believe bimbo. She chats in his ear, but he ignores her, his eyes fixed on me.

It makes me wonder what ‘boy’ he was with. But I won’t think about that now. I’ll think about it later, after I’ve had him all to myself.

Ivy

“It already feels like winter here,” I exclaim, rubbing my arms while sitting up in bed. “The warm weather is the only thing I’m gonna miss about L.A.”

“To tell you the truth, I was so preoccupied the whole time that I didn’t even notice the palm trees or the sunshine,” Eric responds, covering me with yet another one of his grandmother’s hand-stitched quilts.

“I do have to breathe, you know,” I protest, wiggling to free myself from beneath the extra weight, but I freeze when I feel something wet beneath my legs.

“What is it?” Eric immediately notices my reaction and begins pulling back the layers of bedding.

“I don’t know,” I moan, trying to not to panic. “I hope nothing.” I curl up on my knees and scoot across the bed. And then I see it—a bright red spot staining the sheet.

“It’s not that much,” Eric says, making a heroic effort to reassure me. “You had some spotting on the plane, but it stopped. You’ve been traveling all day and your body is still coming down from the stress.”

“Coming down? Eric, now that we’re home, things are only gonna get worse.” I push against his chest and scamper off the bed, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from crying. Eric says nothing as I rustle through my lingerie drawer for a clean pair of panties. I lower my head, hoping to make it to the bathroom without him realizing how upset I am.

“Ivy, do you need me to help you in there?” he asks as he reaches for me, but I keep going. I don’t trust my voice, so I simply shake my head before closing the bathroom door.

He’s already starting to change the bedding as I sink to the floor in a heap, letting the rustling of the sheets muffle my sobs. I’m so scared, but I can’t let him know that. He’s already been through this before. I’m not going to do it to him again. This baby is going to live. It has to.

A wave of emotion racks my body as I convulse silently against the door. After Eric strips the bed, his footsteps move out of the room and down the stairs. A few seconds later, I hear water running through the pipes and into the laundry room. He’s probably attempting to get the bloodstain out before it sets in. It’s too painful to look at any reminders of a potential miscarriage on the horizon.