more than inanities.
“I have a matinee at two,” I remark as we chow down on the pancakes and muffin.
Ben checks his watch—a real one on his wrist, with a dial and hands, old-school. “It’s only ten. You won’t be late.”
“Oh, I’m not worried. Just letting you know.” So it won’t be tense when we say good-bye. So you know I’m not leaving because I’m tired of this … whatever it is.
“Want me to drive you?” Ben asks.
My face heats. “You don’t have to. I do own a car.”
“I don’t mind. I could stay for the show.”
Now I’m seriously squirming. “I wouldn’t make you sit through that again, if you didn’t want to.”
Ben looks mildly surprised then returns to his muffin. “It’s a great show. You’re an amazing dancer.”
I will melt through the floor if he keeps this up. “It’s mostly kids and seniors who go to the matinees.”
“Meaning I’ll stand out.” Ben shrugs. “I like kids and seniors.” He glances up and meets my gaze, dismay entering his expression. “Unless you don’t want me to come.”
“I didn’t say that.” I’d love him there. Knowing he was in the audience last night had made me feel both nervous and supported at the same time, as though his presence held me up. “I won’t stop you—I just wasn’t sure you’d enjoy it.”
“You let me worry about that.”
“Well, okay.”
We study each other a few more minutes, then we both flush and continue our breakfast.
“I was thinking we might stop by a drugstore,” Ben says after a time.
I start coughing. I grab a napkin and plaster it to my face so I won’t spew crumbs all over the place. Once my fit is over, I lower the napkin to find Ben regarding me with amusement.
“Why?” I ask him. “Need painkiller for your hand?”
“I think you know why.”
Ben’s faint smile does me in. He wants to watch me dance, and he wants to prepare for what might happen afterward.
This is all kinds of nerve-wracking, but I’ve never been happier in my life.
Ben
Erin pretends to shop for other things when we visit the nearest drugstore, and we meet up again at my truck after. She doesn’t ask me what I bought, and I keep the box of condoms out of sight.
I don’t know how my brothers do it. When I hand the box to the cashier—a plump, friendly woman in her fifties—I can’t make eye contact with her. I know she’s laughing her ass off at me as I run my card through the machine, snatch up the bag, and flee.
Erin doesn’t say one word about my purchase. We go to her house where she has enough time to pack up all the stuff she needs. We make a quick stop at my place so I can put on fresh clothes, before we drive to the theater. Erin comes inside and admires my house, which was nothing but a square-box, generic development home before my brothers and I fixed it up. I like having her here—she makes it brighter somehow.
I’d like to linger, but we need to hurry so she won’t be late.
Once we arrive at the theater, Erin disappears to get into costume. To kill time before the show starts, I wander around the old-town square. It’s hot so not many people are about today, but some go into and out of the library, and others stroll around the green.
I head back to the theater when ticket-holders start to go in. I insisted to Erin that I buy a ticket today because she treated me last night, and I didn’t take no for an answer.
The show begins. I’m squeezed in next to a family with three little girls who watch the dancers in awe. On my other side is an older couple who murmur to each other through the start of the show, more interested in each other’s opinions than what’s happening onstage. They’re also holding hands.
When Erin comes on, I surge forward in my seat.
She’s as stunning as ever, her elegance enchanting, but I noticed she’s a little distracted. I remember enough from last night’s performance to see that she misses a few steps in her solo dance, and again when she’s with Dean.
Shit, is this because of me? Erin had tried to persuade me not to come today—maybe she really doesn’t want me there.
I hear too much sex can throw an athlete off their game. Not that I’d know—I was in the computer club while the jocks were out playing football with my