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Calm settles over me like a weighted blanket, like Bennett’s massive body might. I wring out my hair, using all the luxury products that I haven’t allowed myself in years, taking the time to plait my wet hair into pigtail braids before slipping on his massive Berkshire shirt and forgoing the rest of the clothes he left out for me.
I still feel raw as I emerge from the steamy room, but my throat catches as I see the pretty lights he’s plugged in along with the usual lamp.
Bennett turns from his computer, Ben Howard plays softly through the speakers as he steps toward me. He’s changed, too, soft pajama pants and no shirt like he usually sleeps.
I stand there blankly, unsure what to do now. Unsure of where I belong.
My fingers play at the stiff wet end of one of my braids as I chew on my lip.
“I’m not tired,” I blurt. “I couldn’t sleep if I tried.”
Bennett smiles, small and quick, but I hold it close to my heart, warming myself from the inside out. “I know, love. I want to show you something.”
He walks over to his dresser, just past the golden lamp on his bedside table. Tucked against the wall is a tall, full-length mirror. Tall enough to capture the hulking form of the 6’6” goalie—and me.
I look down at the ground quickly, but Bennett sweeps up a hand to my chin.
“Look,” he whispers. “Tell me what you see.”
“I see . . . something bad. Someone who hurt you,” I whisper, ashamed of the words but needing him to know. To understand that I hate myself for it all.
“Stop it,” he whispers, his head dipping to nuzzle the crook of my neck. I go nearly boneless as he scoops an arm around my middle. “Look.”
“Bennett . . .” My eyes cast down just slightly, avoiding the glass.
“Just look, P. This is the girl I’ve loved for four years of my life. Steadfastly adored. My soulmate.” He tilts my head again to look in the mirror. “You. Exactly like this.”
I look.
His body encases mine, and it’s hard not to focus on just him—on the rugged lines of his face that mix so well with the aristocratic nose he broke when he was twelve. Of the clean cut of his stubble, the soft waves of his chestnut hair that look like warm coffee or the freshness of fall in the city. The long, thick muscles of his arms, the grip of his hand on my hip—
On the generous curve of my hip. I follow my own body down to my ankles, seeing the tightness of my legs that allow me to swim every day. To run away, when I’ve needed to. I see the way Bennett’s shirt falls over me like I could live in it forever. Like it was made for my body. Mine. I see my face, bare and clean, looking youthful and content. Beautiful. My skin, pink from the hot bath that the boy I love made for me. Warm from the way the boy I love holds me.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, kissing my neck. “So strong. You aren’t that little girl trapped in that house anymore. You’re so smart, clever. Kind and wonderful.”
“I’m not. I’m mean.”
“Your meanness has kept you safe. I don’t care if you’ve used it against me, because it’s kept you safe.” He emphasizes it again, hands crawling up my body to grip the small of my waist.
“I’ve been so horrible to you,” I whisper. “I don’t—”
“I would crawl through broken glass to get to you, P.”
His voice is breathy and soft, but the words build pillars in my mind, making something new in the rubble of destruction. I turn in his arms.
“I would for you, too,” I say, feeling ridiculous at the repeated sentiment, but I don’t know how else to say it.
He presses a hard, fierce kiss to my lips.
“I know,” he says, before kissing me again, gentle and slow, as he backs up to his bed, scooping me into his arms and settling me on his lap as he sits.
His hands smooth against my skin, leaving chilled bumps in their wake as he pulls my shirt up and over my head. Music plays. His eyes sparkle like living waters, and I feel the last piece of my armor break.
I push my hands against his shoulders, letting him settle into the mattress slowly as I rock against him and kiss him again.
He rolls me beneath him, my thighs stretched impossibly wide around the bulk of his body.
The way Bennett looks at me feels the exact same as the first time, on soft blue sheets with waves crashing outside and soft moonlight along more boyish features. When this pull between us was unmarred and pure. Something soft.
