Page 8 of Under The Cherry Blossoms
“So, you liked it then?” he responds with alaugh.
“Are you serious right now? What about you? How did you likeit?”
“It was definitely a good workout. My arms are going to be killing me tomorrow, but it was a lot of fun. Although, I think I enjoyed hearing you whisper I think I can, I think I can, over and over again themost.”
I’m pretty sure I die a little inside when I realize that he heard me repeat the mantra from my favorite children’s bookThe Little Engine That Could,and I hide my face in his chest as he laughs at myembarrassment.
“Okay, next stop, lunch. Let’s go.” Ben takes hold of my hand, lacing his fingers with mine and we take off onfoot.
“I’m not going to need to work out for the rest of the week after today, you’re wearing me out,” I say as my legs try to keep up with his much longerones.
“Pace yourself, Squeak, we’ve still got the night to get through.” He throws a sexy smirk my way as he pulls my hand up to his lush mouth and plants a kiss on it. And with that promise of what the night will bring, we continue our walk in comfortable silence. Once again, I am oblivious to our destination, but the subtle anticipation that Ben has provoked, combined with the intoxication that his scent evokes is keeping me in a state of bliss that renders me incapable ofcaring.
I’m so caught up in examining the notes of Ben’s masculine smell, and trying to figure out why it’s such a turn on, that I don’t even notice the direction we are headed. Not until I look up and see that we are stopped in front of the beautiful leaf-embossed entrance to the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens. My heart drops. This place holds the most bittersweet memories for me. The last time I was here was the worst day of my life, until it was redeemed in the sweetest possibleway.
Noticing that I’ve stopped in my tracks, Ben looks down at me, pulls me in close and says quietly, “This is one of my favorite places. Every time I come here, I’m reminded of a time that I had lost hope, and this is where, with a bit of help, I found it again. I wanted to bring you here because it’s probably the most special place to me.” With those simple words, I have never been so glad to be standingsomewhere.
Reaching up on my tippy toes, I place a soft kiss on his lips. Ben steps closer, pulling me flush to his body and cupping the back of my head, his tongue lightly licks along the seam of my lips, seeking entrance. A slight groan escapes me and Ben is quick to take advantage. Slipping his tongue in my mouth, he deepens the kiss and my whole body alights with desire. Suddenly remembering where we are, I pull away and laughlightly.
“You promised me food. Time to feed me, babycakes.”
He groans loudly at my use of this endearment. “So that’s sticking,huh?”
Slapping a hand on his chest, I reply, “You get pipsqueak, I get baby cakes, it’s yourcall.”
Ben pauses, considering this, and finally retorts, “You know what? Baby cakes is suddenly growing on me. It makes me sound so masculine and virile, how could I not love it,Squeak?”
“Ugh, c’mon!” I drag him toward the ticket window. After getting our tickets, Ben leads the way inside and immediately heads toward Cherry Esplanade. As we approach, the memories assault me, however, I try my best to ignore them and stay in the moment, appreciating what Ben is sharing withme.
Coming to a stop he pulls his backpack off his shoulder, opens it up and pulls out a blanket. “This looks like the perfect spot, what do you think?” heasks.
“Perfect,” I agree and as he smooths the blanket on the ground and pulls out some sandwiches from his bag, I muse out loud, “Well, you certainly cameprepared.”
He winks at me in a surprisingly non-douchey way and says, “You ain’t seen nothing yet.” Then with a flourish that would make a veteran game show hostess proud, he presents me with two Twinkies. I give him a slow clap and declare his moves very impressive. Laughing, he takes a bow before sitting down on the blanket and motioning for me to do thesame.
Looking at the sandwiches, I place a hand on my heart and say, “Aw, did you cook for me, Mackinnon? You aresuchacatch.”
“Hey, don’t knock it. Not everyone can make a great PB&J, it requires skill and a steady hand. Luckily for you, I have both. And I’m not just talking about my sandwichmaking.”
“Lame. You may need to work on your dirty talk as much as yourcooking.”
“Ouch.” Ben clutches his chest. “You wound me. Thank god I have supreme confidence in my dirty-talking talents. For example, I know that tonight when I have my face buried between your thighs and I’m eating you out like you’re my last meal, tongue fucking your delicious cunt, you’re going to be completely satisfied with myskills.”
My sandwich stops its path to my mouth and a sheen of sweat breaks out across my brow.Okay, yeah, the man’s got mad skills,and I can’t wait to experience them when I’m wearing considerably lessclothing.
Deciding I need to change the subject if I want to make it through this afternoon with my panties intact, I ask him why these gardens are so meaningful to him. Ben’s eyes lose focus slightly and I can almost feel the sadness rolling offhim.
“When I was fifteen, my mom passed away, it was an intense time. Dad was struggling and it was incredibly hard to see him in so much pain. I was trying to cope with everything, but I was so angry. Angry at Mom for dying, angry at Dad for forgetting me in his own grief, and so fucking guilty for feeling that way. Then to top it all off, I found out we were moving; my father was taking us back to Connecticut where he grew up. He needed to be closer to his parents and sister, and I understood that. But at the time, it was the final straw. I felt like my entire world was collapsing. Then on my last day at school we came here on a field trip. I got paired up with this girl. We didn’t know each other and I guess that made it easier to confide in her. I told her all the things that I felt too ashamed to admit to anyone else. Afterward she said tome—”
“You’re allowed to be angry, but don’t let your mother’s death define you. Let her life inspire you.” Ben’s eyes widen as I repeat the words I said to him all those yearsago.
2003
The chaotic soundsof teenagers echo around the school bus, but it’s all white noise to me as I keep my gaze focused firmly out the window. I managed to snag a seat at the front of the bus so I could have it all to myself and I have diligently avoided my friends all morning. The last thing I feel like doing today is putting on a happy face and pretending it is a day like anyother.
As my teacher, Ms. O’Brien, drones on about rules and expectations, I zone out again until my attention is abruptly drawn to the space next to me, where a boy I don’t recognize has flopped down onto the seat. I glare at the side of his head, angry that he has burst my bubble of solitude, however, he keeps his eyes forward and ignores me. Well, two can play at that game. I go back to disregarding everyone and anything aroundme.
As the bus takes off I allow the movement to sooth my nerves and lull me into a semi-conscious state. I slept poorly last night, the tears flowing relentlessly as I replayed the words of my parents over and over, helpless to stop the pain they inflict. What feels like only minutes later, I am jostled awake by the bus coming to a stop in front of the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens, and I look up to find my seat mate staring at me. He looks slightly older than I am, with closely-cropped brown hair and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses covering his brown eyes, and I wonder how I’ve never seen him before and what he’s doing on this field trip. I’m fairly certain he’s not in any of the attending classes, but I don’t get a chance toask.
