Page 34 of Until the Last Star Fades

“Hey, nothing worse than tattoo regret.” His smile dissolved into an eye-crinkling yawn. She probably wants to change, but with me here… “Where’s the toilet?”

“Oh, bathroom’s down the hall. It’s shared—hopefully you won’t walk in on someone having sex in the shower.”

“Hopefully not! Uh, you wouldn’t have a spare toothbrush, would you? I know I’m British and people joke we have bad teeth, but I always brush before bed.”

“Let me see.” She pulled out a box from underneath her clothing rail and lifted its lid, the cardboard packed with toiletries, including an unopened toothbrush. “You’re in luck.” She handed it over with a new tube of paste.

“Cheers, Riley.”

“I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

Five hours ago, I thought I’d never see her again. Now, I’m sleeping over. With a smile, he slipped through the door.

• • •

Riley quickly changed into an NYU tee and a pair of shorts, catching Josh smirking from a photo taped to her wall. What? It’s not like you don’t have female friends. She brushed her teeth at the sink and was hanging up a damp facecloth when a knock behind her head made her jump. “It’s cool, come in.”

Ben squeezed through the opening, careful not to hit Riley with the edge of the door. “Cheers.” His fresh minty breath punctuated his gratitude.

“I’ll just…” Riley pulled a fuzzy blanket from a storage box and snuck past to the loveseat.

“I’m so knackered, I could kip on a bed of nails.” Ben followed, leaving the toothpaste tube on top of the box.

“Ahh, sorry—sold that on eBay last week.”

Straightening up, Ben copped an eyeful of Riley’s ass as she bent over.

“You’ll have to make do with this.” She unfurled the blanket on the loveseat.

“Um…looks great to me…” A nervous laugh broke through his lips as he backed away, inching toward the open window. He nudged the curtain and leaned sideways on the sill, ogling a vintage car parked outside. The frosty air prickled his warm skin, sending his hand on a mission, climbing…climbing underneath his thin t-shirt. The more he burrowed and clawed at his chest, the farther his threadbare tee crept up his stomach. “Christ! So itchy.” His other hand squeezed his toothbrush, absentmindedly spinning it round and round.

Riley looked over her shoulder, catching a fleeting glimpse of letters spelling FCUK on the underwear band poking above his low-rise jeans. A breath caught in her throat, her eyes tracing over those four letters again. Err, who’s dyslexic now? Guilt warming her cheeks, she expected to be caught out, but her below-the-belt peek remained a secret. Ben’s attention was out the window, but his hand mindlessly skipped downward. The movement drew her eyes back down his chest and taut abs to hover below his navel where his hand stopped. Do you know how hot you are? Why don’t you have a girlfriend? She pulled her gaze away. Riley! STOP THINKING ABOUT BEN LIKE THIS!

Watching the street below, Ben winced, his thumb tracing where there had previously been a trail of hair disappearing into his underwear. “I have stubble where no bloke should ever have stubble. Not shaving there again.”

Ben, can you NOT…! Riley gulped and kneeled down, smoothing the throw’s velvety softness, its warmth slipping through her fingers as her mind scrambled to reel in her thoughts—thoughts that had stolen her breath back at the club when she realized the good-looking guy with the wild dark hair stumbling on stage was Ben. Luggage-thieving, five-layer-wearing, cheeky Ben…stripping?! Half-naked! Owner of strong shoulders, a defined back, sculpted pecs, and a narrow waist—lean like a swimmer’s physique—who knew? He was beautiful, sexy, her physical ideal—and those adorkable dance moves? Ready to share, his open, toned arms an invitation…to explore that body.

Her mind shuffled, replaying the brief moment she’d felt his skin against hers, wrapped in an unexpected dance floor embrace. She had felt uneasy at first. Am I being unfaithful? But Ben’s behavior had been respectful, self-aware, not presumptuous or handsy like Hunter was with Leia. No, Ben had waited for a sign—a smile, a nod—before tripping the light fantastic with her. He was a gentleman, not at all what she had expected. He’s cute and courteous. I bet he’s been with a lot of women. Good looks and decency would attract girls like a Black Friday sale at Sephora. How many have peeled away all those layers: t-shirt, hoodie, jeans…sliding their hands, their lips along his ripped abs and slim hips while his mouth sucked and teased, his tongue sweeping over… A dizzying warmth began to throb between her legs. Fuck, he could cut my thighs with those cheekbones, the feel of stubble burn—

“Hope? Riley?”

She shook her head. “Oh! S-Sorry?”

“You okay there, starin’ off into space?” Ben’s hand skimmed the top of his underwear before pulling away, allowing his soft t-shirt to slip down, kissing his jeans. He snickered and tapped the toothbrush against his lips. “You mumbled something about stubble burn.”

A blush coaxed her cheeks into a slight smile as she pretended she wasn’t flustered. “Oh, yeah…uh, strippers…so much stubble, shaving their chests…”

“That’s not all they shave.”

Okay then. “Uh…you can keep that toothbrush.”

“Great!” He pointed it at the loveseat underneath her raised single bed. “So, off to Bedfordshire, then?”

Riley stacked cushions into a headrest and stood up. “Yep.”

“This means a lot.” He paused awkwardly, his arms lost, swaying by his sides like they needed a purpose. “Thanks, Riley…”

Is he going to hug me? I-I can’t… Riley busied her hands, clasping the ladder leading to her bed. “Well, night.” She climbed up and grabbed threadbare Puffin, hiding him under the duvet as she slipped underneath. She closed her eyes but knew sleep wouldn’t come easy.