Page 86 of Beyond the Lines
“It’s not about him,” I say, defensively.
“Are you sure?”
I stare at the floor, unable to meet her eyes. “Yes,” I lie.
“Bullshit.” She smirks. “But if this is what you want, I support you, OK?”
I nod.
“Besides,” she adds, “I’ve been watching Marnie down white wine like it’s water. If anyone’s going to get naked tonight, my money’s on her.”
As if on cue, a cheer erupts from the living room, followed by Trevor’s distinctive whoop.
“See?” Em grins. “We’re probably missing the show.”
We return to the living room to find exactly what the cheers suggested—Marnie is now sitting proudly in just her bra and skirt, and Trevor is shirtless beside her. His chest is indeed as impressive as Marnie has been telling us for weeks, all defined muscles and smooth skin.
“Took you long enough,” James calls as we rejoin the circle.
“Just girl talk,” Em says dismissively, settling back into her spot on the couch. She’s watching, not playing, but nobody seems to mind.
Ben scoots over to make room for me, his arm immediately finding its way around my shoulders again. “Are you OK?” he asks, his voice low so only I can hear.
“Never better,” I reply, although I’m not sure I mean it.
The game resumes, and I find myself paying more attention to Ben than to my cards. His blonde hair falls across his forehead in a way that makes me want to brush it back, andthe pleasant buzz of alcohol makes everything feel dreamlike and uncomplicated.
“Three sevens,” Ping declares, placing her cards down.
“Bullshit,” I call without thinking.
Ping flips the cards—three sevens exactly. “Nice try!”
“Dammit,” I grumble, unbuttoning my jeans the rest of the way as Ben watches with undisguised interest. I shimmy out of them. “Happy now?”
“Ecstatic,” Ben murmurs, his gaze lingering on my bare legs.
I should feel self-conscious sitting here in just my tank top and underwear, but instead, I feel… powerful? The way Ben looks at me, like I’m the only person in the room worth seeing, sends a thrill through me that has nothing to do with the alcohol.
Then Marnie laughs and stands. “We’re, uh—” she stammers.
“Going to take a break,” Trevor announces, as he stands, not trying to be subtle.
“Use protection!” James calls after them.
“And don’t break anything!” Ping adds.
Em gives me a told-you-so look, and I can’t help but laugh. The game continues with our reduced circle, and I find myself leaning into Ben more and more. His hand traces idle patterns on my bare shoulder, sending pleasant shivers down my spine.
“Two queens,” Ben says, placing down his cards.
“Bullshit,” James challenges immediately.
Ben flips the cards—a queen and a jack. “Damn.”
With a theatrical sigh, he pulls his shirt over his head, revealing a toned chest. He’s not built like a hockey player—not that I’m comparing him to anyone—but he clearly works out. And he’s never sent me sprawling into an emotional morass.
“Your turn,” he says to me, and suddenly, I’m very aware of how close we are.
