Page 63 of Forget About Me

My dream had been to go to vet school—a dream that will never come to fruition since I didn’t finish college.

“I don’t think so. My boss sure isn’t rolling in dough. People just don’t understand how much it costs to run a practice. They want to pay twenty bucks and have us just tell them what’s wrong. They don’t want to spend a hundred bucks for all the diagnostics you sometimes need to figure things out. It’s not like the animal can tell us where and when and how much it hurts.”

He flips over onto his back and settles into my lap. “I have to admit I was surprised. I mean, my bill when Puck had his shots and everything was way more than I pay when I go to the doctor.”

“That’s becauseyouhave health insurance. Puck doesn’t have a job that pays for his insurance like you do.”

“I guess I need to get him an actual paying gig, the lazy bum.”

I trace a finger along his cheek. I love that Romeo’s gravity has been banished from this face. I kind of even like the beard, especially how it feels. “Anyway, I’m glad I didn’t go to vet school. I’d just have massive student loans and a lot of headaches. With my job, I get to spend my days making animals feel better and then go home and not worry about it.”

“Well, good.”

“What about you? Are you happy?”

He nods slowly. “Much happier now that I’m home. It’s good to be closer to my dad, and I love the theater company. It already feels like another family.” The hand he’s got tucked around my waist draws circles on my hip as he talks. “I’m glad I have a lot saved from modeling, though. I don’t know how any of them live on what they pay at the theater.”

His chest lifts and releases in a sigh.

“So you’re going to keep doing it? The modeling.”

“I don’t know. I’m getting a bit old for it.” He drags his free hand down his face like he’s trying to erase his thoughts. “Plus, I was pretty burned out when I left. But the money is so good. I kind of feel like I have to keep at it as long as I can. You know, ride that wave.”

“So you’re going back.”

“Well, I have to as soon as the show closes. I have a job that’s been booked for a long time.” He grabs my hand and hugs it to his chest. “But I’m thinking, since I have a reason to now, that I’ll go back and forth.” He catches my eye, looking like a dog begging for a treat. “Maybe you could join me there sometime? Laze around by a pool while I’m out there slaving away on a set somewhere?”

I squeeze his hand but don’t manage to hold his hopeful gaze. I love Ben. I always have. But like he said earlier this morning, we’ve never really been together. It’s like I don’t even know Ben the adult. I know his body. Even covered with all the new muscles, he smells the same, moves the same way. But I don’t know any of the little day-to-day details or whether we’re even compatible as a couple outside of the bedroom.

“I have a thought.” I sit up straight and push him up to sitting. Once he’s facing me, his expression’s dialed to worried, so I don’t hesitate to share. “I think we need to go back to the beginning.”

“Um. Okay.” He looks at me sideways. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“We skipped that part. We were kids. We ran around the neighborhood together. You drove me to work. We had sex a lot. Then you left. And now we’ve jumped straight to sex again. We’ve never, like, dated.”

“We spent a lot of time together the past month at rehearsals and training Puck.”

“Yeah.” Jumping to my feet, I pace the perimeter of his tiny living room. “That’s not dating. I don’t really know a lot about you. What you do in your spare time. If you have spare time. What your bad habits are.”

“I know that you used to be able to burp-speak an entire sentence.”

“Yeah, I may have lost that skill.” I tap my chin. “Although I think I can still do the thing where you make the farting sound in your armpit.”

He stands, hands on hips. “No way. I’m the reigning champion at that one.”

We face off across the coffee table. “Yes, but now you have underarm hair, which totally muffles the sound.”

He shrugs. “I’ll shave my pits.”

“Wait. Have you ever shaved your body hair?”

An embarrassed-looking smile creeps across his face.

“You have!”

“I haven’tshavedanything except my face.” He scratches the scruffy beard he’s grown for the play. “But I have been waxed.” He shudders. “Not my favorite part of the job.”

I stalk around to his side of the table and try to lift the edge of the button-down he’s wearing over a pair of those famous CK briefs. “I guess America has seen pretty much all of you.”

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