Page 1 of Every Hidden Truth

1

Speedo From Heaven

It was safe tosay I was not a poet. But if I was, I’d write one hell of a prose about Ben’s ass. It would rhyme, and yes, it would be eloquent as shit. If I thought it would ease my sexual frustration, I’d Robert-Frost that bitch until those diverging roads didn’t know which way they were going.

I could waste pages explaining the paradox of his loose jeans that still managed to hug the perky swells of his ass like a glove. The words would stretch for miles, describing the peek of his boxers above his belt and how it drove me to self-combustion. And don’t get me started about his damn Speedo.

That would be the name of my poem:Speedo from Heaven. Because, damn, if Ben’s ass wasn’t angelic.

But, alas, I was not a poet.

Instead of putting my musings to paper, I settled for ogling Ben’s ass unabashedly as he stood by the teacher’s desk to retrieve our study guide. He wore a black belt today, and his boxers were lavender. Who knew lavender was a sexy color?

“Silas?”

I startled as Ben dropped into the seat beside me. He laughed at my hissed curse as my knee slammed into the underside of my desk. Gritting my teeth against the pulsing pain in my kneecap, I punched Ben’s shoulder hard enough to earn a painedoomphfrom him.

“You doing okay there?” His crooked grin spread over his face, and I thanked the agony in my leg for distracting me from his adorable dimple.

“Peachy.” I rubbed my knee and banished the embarrassed heat rising over the back of my neck.

Ben cocked a golden eyebrow, and his bright blue eyes sparkled with amusement as he slapped our study guide on the combined surface of our desks. “You sure? You were totally spacing out.”

“I was staring at your ass,” I said honestly, and he scoffed.

“Whatever,” he mumbled as his cheeks darkened.

I cackled and jabbed him right in his dimple. Ever the mature one, he didn’t retaliate.

He focused on the study guide and swiped his blond curls out of his face. His hair was too long to be anything but shaggy chaos, so the curls fell right back into his eyes. No amount of run-throughs or sifting fingers could calm the stubborn locks. But I didn’t complain. I loved his hair, loved how it smelled like spring soap with a hint of chlorine, loved the way the ends curled as they air-dried.

Perhaps I could write a poem about his hair. It wouldn’t be quite as passionate asSpeedo from Heaven, but few things compared to the beauty of his ass. His hair ranked second place. Third, if I counted his dimple.

“Si?” He sang my name as his hand waved in front of my eyes. “You’re exceptionally spacey today. Something on your mind?”

“Yeah, your ass. I already told you that,” I deadpanned, and he rolled his eyes.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Damn, throwing out big words like you’re some sort of big shot.”

He laughed. “Do you not know what incorrigible means?”

I punched his arm again in answer, and he laughed harder.

“I was just kidding,” he said as I ignored him, glaring down at the study guide.

His fingers brushed over my knuckles, and my gaze zeroed in on them as they slowly, tentatively slipped between mine. “I don’t think you’re stupid. You know that, right?”

The sincerity warmed my heart, and I hesitantly met his ocean-blue stare. “I know.”

We retained eye contact for a long moment before he smiled and squeezed my fingers. “Good.”

He withdrew, and my palm tingled from the heat of his hand lingering on my skin. This wasn’t the first time he’d touched me this way, yet every single time without fail, it sent my body into fits. My heart pounded in my ears, and my lungs struggled to inflate. Sweat slicked over my palms as my blood warmed.

Ever since our impromptu sleepover at his house a few weeks ago, our relationship had changed. An undeniable shift had taken place as we lay in his bed, his limbs snaking around my body like a boa constrictor.

Given my untrustworthy feelings, I shouldn’t have allowed it, but I hadn’t fought him when he’d dragged me into his bed after waking from a nightmare. It was the longest night of my life, lying there with the weight of his head on my chest and the softness of his skin beneath my fingertips, his hair sifting through my fingers as his breath puffed against my neck.

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