Why don't you Stay ... Forever - Jennifer Ashley Page 0,27

Now to find out if they think me a temp girlfriend, like in my job, or what I hope—that this happiness I’ve found with Ben will last.

Ben drives me home. “Good night,” he says when he pulls into my driveway.

He’s not turning cold—I understand he’s trying to be nice. Worried I’m upset about his family descending on us and thinking I might want to be alone. He’s already told Austin he’s a dead man for bringing them all there. Austin looked cheerful about that.

Virginia was much happier by the end of the night. Dancing with her husband, surrounded by her kids, a grandchild on the way … I think she decided that me and Ben snogging on the dance floor was not so bad in the grand scheme of things.

Maybe that’s what Austin was trying to show her. I won’t let Ben kill him, in that case.

I reach over and take Ben’s hand. “Stay,” I say softly.

His grin flashes, the crooked one I’m growing to love. Ben sets the brake, turns off the truck, and kisses me.

We steam up the windows by the time we’re done. Then Ben hops out, dashes around to my side, and escorts me from the pickup. We dart inside the house—no dropping my keys this time—kiss frantically once the door is closed, and make our hurried way to the bedroom.

Ida had been right that Clarice wouldn’t pair me with Reuben. All week, he dances with the corps de ballet in a secondary male part Clarice invents for him. Dean and I rehearse separately from them.

When I peek inside the large practice room at Clarice’s studio, I have to admit Reuben is good. He picks up the steps quickly and even helps those who are in the scene with him without losing patience.

He could be like that, nice to the point of donating a kidney. Before, I’d thought him a wonderful human being. Now I have to wonder what he’s up to.

When I reach the theater Saturday, with Ben, Reuben is even apologetic.

“Sorry I went off on you,” he says to Ben. Reuben’s face is half made up, his skin powdered and rouged, lips outlined. A paper bib protects his shirt. “I confess, I was crazy about Erin. You can see why. But hey, I had my shot. Now it’s your turn.”

Ben’s obviously not buying the contrite act, but Reuben doesn’t notice and rushes away to finish dressing. Dean, already in full face paint, risks wrinkling his thick eyeliner by scrunching up his face.

“Kiss-ass,” he says in Reuben’s direction. “How are you, Ben?”

“Just fine.”

Dean looks him up and down. “I can see that. You’re glowing. Erin’s good for you.” He pauses thoughtfully. “You’re good for her.”

I have to get into costume, so I kiss Ben quickly and slip away, trying not to blush at Dean’s assessment. Dean, instead of making for the warm-up area, holds back to speak to Ben. They’re getting along well, those two.

The performance tonight is excellent, all of us on peak. Reuben is really good, I have to admit, injecting an energy into the part of the show that had needed something more.

Dean, who will never let any male dancer upstage him, does better than usual. Competition brings out the best in him. He also gives fair dues, and when Reuben gets great applause, Dean brings him to the front with us and we all three take a bow.

Afterward, Reuben remains cordial, congratulating everyone on a good show.

When Ben comes backstage, Reuben gives him a friendly greeting and disappears into his dressing room.

I still don’t trust him.

Ben takes me home. And he stays. This time, he’s brought an overnight bag and has stocked up from the drugstore. At the rate we’re blowing through condoms, we’ll need reserves.

As I lay next to him, trying to catch my breath after an intense round of lovemaking, I wonder where this is going.

Should I worry about it? Or simply enjoy what I have? Ben and I might not last together—the future is always uncertain. Being with Reuben taught me that.

My thoughts scatter when Ben rolls onto his side and softly kisses me. The kisses grow stronger, Ben’s hands bringing my body to life.

Before we go further, we clean up with a shower, which involves more kissing, caressing, sliding soap in all the right places. When we return to the bed, I push him down onto it and climb on top of him. He’s surprised, but doesn’t argue when I straddle him, lowering myself onto his waiting