to be almost forty years old at her first job.
“I keep forgetting I’m not supposed to say I’m almost forty! Thirty-eight!” Claire cried, then laughed. “Boppy ordered me to say just thirty-eight!”
They laughed through most of the next hour and ate spicy food and drank lots of water and Claire asked about the band and how they’d all joined together and about Ben’s job and his apartment. And they kept it…friendly. By eleven-thirty, Claire was starting to fade, so Ben got the check and insisted on paying for it. It wasn’t much, but he felt like—friends or not—he wanted to pay or be the man or something stupid like that. Claire shook her ponytail, not quite understanding him, and then said thanks. They walked out to the sidewalk and plenty of available cabs were cruising by.
“How did we do?” Ben asked.
“Good, I think. What do you say? Can we be friends?” Claire asked. She reached up to settle a strand of hair behind her ear that the wind had pulled, and Ben had the fleeting moment of thinking she was reaching up to touch his hair instead of her own. Wishful fleeting moment of thinking.
“I say yes,” Ben said.
“Good!” Claire said, relieved. “I’m so glad. I hated the idea of…whatever that was yesterday. That was awful. And I could use a friend.”
Ben must have looked frozen, trying to hold himself together as best as he could. He was beginning to despise this whole friend concept.
“I mean,” Claire added quickly, “I don’t want to use you. Oh dear, that came out all wrong. I am so awkward around you!” She laughed, then took a deep breath. “I think I’ll get a cab. Thanks, Ben. I’m so glad we got together.”
“Claire.”
She had turned toward the avenue to hail a cab then turned back at the sound of his voice. “Yes?”
“I’m so sorry about yesterday, about everything.”
“Oh.”
She stared at him in the most all-encompassing manner, taking in his shoulders and hips. It was disconcerting in that adolescent way; he felt horribly aware of his physical self, as he rarely did as an adult.
“I’m the one who should apologize.” The street noise seemed to quiet around them. “I’m just…” She looked around, as if she might find assistance. “I’m out of practice…of being with people. I’m a bit rusty.” She smiled, and Ben felt his heart crack a bit.
She was so tender, so fragile. And not in the manipulative, bitchy way he’d totally misconstrued every bit of her coolness the day before. She kept her distance because it had become a form of self-preservation.
“Oh, Claire. I’m—I’m so happy you moved here. I’ll call you this week. We’ll do more friend things. Okay?”
She looked so deeply relieved. It appeared that anything more than friendship was entirely beyond her range of motion just now.
“Oh, Ben. I’d love that.”
He reached out to pull her into a fraternal one-armed hug. “Here’s a cab, Princess—”
She looked stricken at the moniker.
“I meant it kindly,” Ben said, his arm still hanging loosely around one shoulder. “You kind of are a princess. So just think of it as a nickname. Okay?”
He was holding open the taxi door, and Claire was looking up into his eyes.
“Okay. Just don’t make fun of me…or not too much. Okay?”
He kissed her on the crown of her head. Brotherly. “Okay. Now get in the cab. I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay. Bye, Ben.”
Chapter 10
Claire fell asleep in a fog of pleasure and anxiety. Ben had been so kind and attentive. She’d only seen a few moments of that stormy gravity pass across his face, and now that Sarah had planted the seed of the idea—that his bouts of temper were really a screen for his attraction—Claire didn’t know if that made it more or less disturbing. She rolled over a couple of times. She could still smell him on her shirt and dipped her nose to her sleeve to inhale more of him. It was faint but it was there. She slept in her long-sleeved T-shirt
“I keep forgetting I’m not supposed to say I’m almost forty! Thirty-eight!” Claire cried, then laughed. “Boppy ordered me to say just thirty-eight!”
They laughed through most of the next hour and ate spicy food and drank lots of water and Claire asked about the band and how they’d all joined together and about Ben’s job and his apartment. And they kept it…friendly. By eleven-thirty, Claire was starting to fade, so Ben got the check and insisted on paying for it. It wasn’t much, but he felt like—friends or not—he wanted to pay or be the man or something stupid like that. Claire shook her ponytail, not quite understanding him, and then said thanks. They walked out to the sidewalk and plenty of available cabs were cruising by.
“How did we do?” Ben asked.
“Good, I think. What do you say? Can we be friends?” Claire asked. She reached up to settle a strand of hair behind her ear that the wind had pulled, and Ben had the fleeting moment of thinking she was reaching up to touch his hair instead of her own. Wishful fleeting moment of thinking.
“I say yes,” Ben said.
“Good!” Claire said, relieved. “I’m so glad. I hated the idea of…whatever that was yesterday. That was awful. And I could use a friend.”
Ben must have looked frozen, trying to hold himself together as best as he could. He was beginning to despise this whole friend concept.
“I mean,” Claire added quickly, “I don’t want to use you. Oh dear, that came out all wrong. I am so awkward around you!” She laughed, then took a deep breath. “I think I’ll get a cab. Thanks, Ben. I’m so glad we got together.”
“Claire.”
She had turned toward the avenue to hail a cab then turned back at the sound of his voice. “Yes?”
“I’m so sorry about yesterday, about everything.”
“Oh.”
She stared at him in the most all-encompassing manner, taking in his shoulders and hips. It was disconcerting in that adolescent way; he felt horribly aware of his physical self, as he rarely did as an adult.
“I’m the one who should apologize.” The street noise seemed to quiet around them. “I’m just…” She looked around, as if she might find assistance. “I’m out of practice…of being with people. I’m a bit rusty.” She smiled, and Ben felt his heart crack a bit.
She was so tender, so fragile. And not in the manipulative, bitchy way he’d totally misconstrued every bit of her coolness the day before. She kept her distance because it had become a form of self-preservation.
“Oh, Claire. I’m—I’m so happy you moved here. I’ll call you this week. We’ll do more friend things. Okay?”
She looked so deeply relieved. It appeared that anything more than friendship was entirely beyond her range of motion just now.
“Oh, Ben. I’d love that.”
He reached out to pull her into a fraternal one-armed hug. “Here’s a cab, Princess—”
She looked stricken at the moniker.
“I meant it kindly,” Ben said, his arm still hanging loosely around one shoulder. “You kind of are a princess. So just think of it as a nickname. Okay?”
He was holding open the taxi door, and Claire was looking up into his eyes.
“Okay. Just don’t make fun of me…or not too much. Okay?”
He kissed her on the crown of her head. Brotherly. “Okay. Now get in the cab. I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay. Bye, Ben.”
Chapter 10
Claire fell asleep in a fog of pleasure and anxiety. Ben had been so kind and attentive. She’d only seen a few moments of that stormy gravity pass across his face, and now that Sarah had planted the seed of the idea—that his bouts of temper were really a screen for his attraction—Claire didn’t know if that made it more or less disturbing. She rolled over a couple of times. She could still smell him on her shirt and dipped her nose to her sleeve to inhale more of him. It was faint but it was there. She slept in her long-sleeved T-shirt
Similar Books
