“Yeah, Ben’s graduation party was a lot of fun. Everyone hung out all night since we’re not sure when we’ll all be able to once graduation is over,” I nonchalantly lie through my teeth.
No guilt surfaces as I blatantly lie to my father’s face. I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad development.
“I see. And when Ben was in your room late the other night…were you two behaving?”
Don’t get hot in the face. Don’t get hot in the face.Think of sticking your head in an ice bucket, feel the cold rush of water stinging your skin.
“Yes, of course. We’re just friends.”
Not a complete lie, I suppose.
“Good. Just make sure you’re being smart, Charlotte,” he says sternly, looking back at his computer. Scolded once again… I hate it.
“I know, Dad. I will be. I’m an adult and you raised me right. I can take care of myself. Don’t worry.”
“Even if youcantake care of yourself, I don’t want you to ruin your future,” he says, avoiding my gaze. My mother glances anxiously from him to me, her mouth opening and closing, obviously debating whether to intervene or not.
“I’m not dumb. I promise I’m being smart in all my choices. Why do you not trust me? What have I ever done to break your trust?”
He doesn’t respond, but continues typing, his mouth twitching as if biting his tongue, holding back what he really wants to say.
I scoff and turn to the kitchen. I grab a protein bar and a sandwich out of the refrigerator and strut toward the front door.
“Where you going now?” he yells into the hallway.
“Ben’s,” I say shortly and slam the door behind me, not waiting for his response.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
I fight the tears burning my eyes. Don’t ruin my makeup or the excitement of going to Ben’s. Everything’s fine. Dad and I are just adjusting to our new way of life. Things will be okay.
After a deep breath, I get in my car. I take my sandwich out of the Ziploc bag and bite into the crust. I’m too hungry to wait until Ben’s to eat, but I refuse to eat it in the house with my parents. If I ate inside, more questions would surface causing further anger, crying and shouting and I don’t want to deal with it. Not right now. Not with the happiness I’m feeling with Ben.
I shove down the rest of the cold cut turkey sandwich and protein bar and leave for my man’s house.
Ben is outside the barn, working on his red Ducati when I pull in. His shirt’s off, his skin dripping with sweat, and his jeans are held up by his belt that’s glimmering in the sunlight.
Fuck, he’s so hot.
And he’s all mine.
I park my car by his and walk over, playfully walking on my toes and casually approaching him. He doesn’t notice me, too ingrained in what he’s doing.
How do I want to play this? Do I sneak up on him and hug him? Give him a kiss? Will that be too obvious withhis parents around? I opt for giving him a swift quick kick in the butt, almost knocking him forward into his motorcycle where he squats.
“Hey, you!”
He jumps up, grabs my chin and tilts it up to kiss me.
Swoon.
“Hi,” I say out of breath from being swept off my feet. “What’re you doing to your bike?”
“Ah,” he says, wiping his brow, smearing black fluid on his forehead. “Just maintenance. She needed an oil change, and the chains needed lubricating and all that. Just basic stuff you have to do every once in a while, to keep her purring.”
“Her?” I giggle.
“Yes. You must adhere to calling her by her name if you're going to ride her.”
