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Chapter Eight
Victoria
Iwake up refreshed and happy in an enormous white bed, facing two large, sunny windows overlooking the ocean.
I know I’m in Ben’s guest room. And I know I’m here because he refused to let me sleep in his room. What I don’t quite know is what I'm going to do next.
I mean, we had a pretty good time last night, watching scary movies, having snacks, and teasing each other. But then I fell asleep, and he tucked me in here. There was no wild, late-night sex in the spooky mansion. No sneaking into anyone’s bedroom for a rendezvous. Not even a single kiss.
After our first two encounters, both of which ended with him inside me, I just assumed that’s what would happen every time. Since it didn’t, I guess he’s done with me.
I can hear Sally’s voice in my head telling me that I have a choice here too, but it’s much harder to conjure up the courage to act when faced with the absolute reality of the situation. We hung out but didn’t fuck.
I think I may have been friend-zoned.
Made only worse by the fact that I’m pretty sure we’re not friends.
I crawl out of bed and slip my shorts back on, having been put to bed in my tank top and panties. I am momentarily reassured remembering that he, at the very least, saw my fancy underwear.
He saw them and decided not to rip them off my body. Shit.
There goes that little bit of confidence.
I make my way downstairs. The house seems to be empty, but I smell coffee, so I follow my nose to the kitchen. There’s a fresh pot but no one is around. I pour myself a cup and suffer through the first sip of black coffee after failing to locate any cream or sugar in this health nut’s kitchen.
Holding my cup, I start to wander through the house. It’s airy and open, filled with light, even down the hallways, which all have windows open to the fresh morning air. Brick red and cream tiles line the floors of most of the halls and bedrooms, merging into jewel toned blues and greens in the bathrooms. I shake my head imagining how many hours were spent laying tile in this mausoleum.
I encounter the first sign of life when I reach the far end of the main floor and follow the sounds to a full-on fitness center. Ben is at the weight set in the center, doing deadlifts. I freeze there for a moment, admiring his fine ass before taking a good look around.
To my left is a black modular rack filled with athletic shoes of all sizes and colors. I set my coffee cup on top and start hunting through small looking pairs until I find some that are just my size. I slip them on with no socks, leaving my flip-flops in a pile by the doorway.
“Good morning,” Ben says, finally noticing me as he sets down the bar he was holding and wipes his brow and shoulders with a small towel.
“Morning.”
“You found the coffee?”
“Yup. Nice and black, just like punishment.”
I earn a small, huffed laugh for my joke and I tuck it into the secret pocket of my shorts for later.
“I’m going to go for a run on the beach. If you don’t mind me borrowing these shoes?” I ask.
Ben glances at my feet and shakes his head. “No, those have all just been abandoned here over the years.” He starts to walk toward me, and I steel myself to remain cool and collected with his sudden closeness. “Give me ten and I’ll go with you.”
A glimmer of excitement shoots through me at the idea that he wants to spend time with me, even if it’s just joining me on a run. “Sure you can keep up, old man?”
His narrowed eyes and smirking lips do nothing to calm down the wildfire that ignites in my nervous system.
“You know, if you keep bringing up my age, I might start to think you’ve got an older man fetish.” He twists my words from the night before and tosses them at me.
I don’t react in time to catch them, and the full force of his flirtation hits me right in the chest.
“Most girls do,” is all I can manage to squeak out.
Ben just raises his eyebrows at me.
I turn and start to escape.
