Page 16 of The Destined SEAL
I pick up the Spider-Man comic book sitting on the blanket between us and page through it. “Yeah, that’s true.” I whisper the words. “I want the best for you.” For so long I thought I knew what that was. Seeing him here in this element proves me wrong and tells me he’s where he needs to be regardless of how I feel. “Are you safe?”
My thumb lands on the page where Spider-Man defeats a bad guy, and I sigh. I meet his gaze. I’ve ignored Tahoe’s comments from earlier all day. Right now seems the best time to bring them up. While I’m listening to guns firing.
He grabs my face with his thumb and forefinger. “Don’t worry about me.”
I’m indignant. “Someone has to! Telling me not to worry has never worked,” I sling back, chewing on my thumbnail.
Ben gives me a crooked grin and grabs my wrist to halt my bad habit. I remember when that same grin went from a geeky smirk to a panty-scorching smile, and I blink away the memory from long ago. “I have, ah, girlfriends. I’m not lonely. Is that what you’re asking? If people worry about me?”
“Ugh. No. I don’t want to know about your girlfriends. More than one?” I ask. “Wait, I don’t think I want to know the answer. I’d hate you for it.”
“Oh, come on!” he pleads.
I hold up a palm in his face and close the comic with my free hand. “Don’t.” I laugh. “Not only do you look like one, you act like one, too,” I remark, smiling.
“Act like what? A badass with an awesome personality that the ladies love?” Ben kisses his bicep awkwardly, then waggles one brow at me. “Give me some credit.”
Sighing, I lean back on the blanket but startle when a cacophony of gunfire ricochets in the air. Ben puts his hand on my stomach. It’s flat and warm. He’s calming me, not doing anything untoward, but I can’t help but realize what this would look like to any outsider. Now that I’m not sloppy drunk. “Act like a womanizing perv,” I say, tossing his hand away.
“Harper, Harper. Are you jealous?”
I shrug. “You’ve never had luck with girls. It makes sense you’d sow your wild oats now that you’ve”—I pause, unsure how to phrase it—“grown up.”
He coughs. “It was weird,” he says, lying down again next to me. “Women wanting me for what I look like and what I do. I thought it was a joke, you know? They told me about these Frog Hogs, these women who want to date and have sex with SEALs. Totally real, Harps. I was so stymied when I met my first one I probably stared at her for an entire minute before I responded to her question.”
“Which was?” I ask.
“Oh, her question?” he asks, obviously lost in thought. “She asked if I was going to buy her a drink.”
My eyes are closed so he can’t see me roll them. “Classy,” I remark. “Then what? You took her home and had dirty, wild, frog sex?”
“Pass me the comic,” he says.
I reach next to me and hand it to him. He opens it in front of him. It blocks the sunlight beaming into his face.
“Are you really going with no comment on this one?”
He laughs. “Yeah, I took her home.” Ben pages through to a random page, and I wonder which one it is.
Gross. His answer shocks me a little, and it picks at a thread of our unraveling friendship. Old Ben would have never had a one-night stand. I’m not brave enough to ask if it’s a regular occurrence. “There’s so much wrong with that, but we don’t have time to dissect it right now,” I remark, sighing. Since Ben, I’ve only been with Marcus.
“I’d prefer we never dissect it,” Ben replies.
So would I, come to think of it.
We talk a little bit about his father’s promotion and my parents’ new deck that wraps almost all the way around the house. Something my mother has asked for since we moved into that house. We’re supposed to make it there for dinner shortly, but I’m so comfortable here I know for a fact we’ll be late. I don’tget this sense of self and freedom frequently, so I have to drink it up while I can—while being late doesn’t matter.
Ben pretends to read the comic bubbles through squinted eyes.
“My graduation is rapidly approaching. You’re going, right? Maybe if you start planning for it now, it will work out.”
He’s a slave to the Teams and their schedules. I’m never one hundred percent sure where Ben is at on most days. He travels around the US tracking down people and then…exterminating them. Shivering, I lean down to see which part he’s at. I point at a joke and laugh. He grins, but it falls quickly.
Ben shakes his head. “You know it doesn’t work like that. I’ve put in a request to be on the East Coast for the week before the graduation and the week after. That means I could be anywhere from Maine to Florida. Atlanta has been a fucking hot spot lately. I’ll give it a good college try,” Ben quips, turning to look at me. “I wouldn’t want to miss it for the world. You know that, right?”
I think it’s a double entendre. How he wishes he wouldn’t have missed his own, not even happening, college graduation, but he’s going to settle for mine.
I nod. “I know. It happened fast. I’ve been so busy with classes and meetings and everything else, being finished with this degree snuck up on me.” Enter the real world. A place I don’t function very well. Inside Harvard walls, I am Harper, a student. Outside, I have no idea who I am. I’ll be a linguistics graduate with a ton more schooling to finish before I arrive at my ultimate goal. “I got into the program at USD. Not sure if I mentioned that yet.” It’s a fib. I was planning on broaching the moving subject during this visit.
