Learning to Love the Heat

She's clearly impressed with his blurb, and she enjoyed looking at the cover last weekend. What if she wants to read every page?

Maybe Andy's wrong, and what she really needs is to be challenged just like he challenged me. Is that what she craves? Would I step aside for them?

Claire smiles weakly at me, and we walk to the staircase. The toe of her sandal catches on the rug, sending her body forward, about to tumble down the stairs. The same time as her hand catches the railing, I catch her. One arm across her chest, between her breasts, and the other wrapped around the bare skin of her waist, I pull her body back against mine. Her heart pounds against my forearm, the beat quick and heavy with fear. We're both panting from the adrenaline rush of her near-accident, causing our bodies to move in time with each other.

She leans her head back on my chest, her eyes closed and her lips pressed together in a tight line. All color has drained from her already-pale face, and she's trembling in my arms. She's scared to death. Whether it's from almost falling or from being held by me, I can't tell. But I need to calm her, distract her.

"Je ne cesse de penser a toi," I whisper into her ear, once my breathing is slightly less erratic. She stops moving, stops breathing. I'd say the distraction worked. My unwilling arms release their hold on her, and I take a step back. When she turns to face me, her eyes are wild.

"What did you just say to me?" she asks in a small, shaky voice.

"Oh, just something about clumsy redheads," I deadpan, waving it off. When she shoves at my shoulder, my serious expression slips, and we both start cracking up. Our nerves have made us delirious. My laughter slowly fades as I think about how badly I want to hold her again. If it was pure heaven with our clothes on, I can't imagine how she would feel without them.

I've got to stop that line of thought now, before I start tenting my shorts like a damn teenager.

After clearing my throat, I ask, "You up for some ice cream?" Her face lights up, and I take it as a yes.

* * * * *

Disappointment floods me as soon as I wake up Sunday morning—even before I open my eyes. Instead of being in Ben's comfortably cool room, like I was last week, I'm suffering in some inescapable sauna. Warm, damp air covers me like a blanket, making me sticky all over. I roll onto my stomach to let the fan dry the sweat on my back, but all that does it cement my grossness to my skin. There will be no sleeping in, it seems. I roll out of bed, switch on the dehumidifier, and drag myself into the bathroom for a cold shower. Steam is the antichrist.

With my wet hair up in a crown braid and nothing on but boy shorts and a loose tank top, I grab every cleaning supply I can find. My weather app tells me the temp shouldn't get past ninety, which means this is an open-window day. Thank goodness, because this place could use some serious airing out.

The apartment is long overdue for a deep clean, since I've been a lazy bum lately. I can survive the heat, but I will not live in squalor... for more than a couple weeks. Plus, cleaning is busy work. Cleaning will distract me from overanalyzing my thoughts and feelings. Not to mention Ben's every word, gesture, and facial expression from yesterday. Nope. Not gonna do it. Focus on the task at hand.

As I'm washing a glass, my mind drifts to the way his entire face lit up the moment he saw me. We'd decided to meet in the garden outside the museum. He'd arrived before me, and when I saw him through the wrought iron fence, I paused for a moment, watching him. His hair was down, and he must've run his fingers through it at least five times before shoving both hands in his pockets. Then he sat down on one of the benches... before jumping back up two seconds later. That's when I took pity on him and stepped through the gate.

I place the glass on the drying rack. If I keep daydreaming like this, I'll be cleaning all damn day. I abandon the rest of the dishes and grab the broom, instead. Maybe if I'm moving around, I'll be less likely to zone out. Right? And it does work for a while. That is, until my brain conjures up the memory of being held tight by Ben after tripping at the top of the stairs.

I have to stop what I'm doing while my heart dislodges itself from my stomach and travels back up to my chest, where it belongs.

It'd all happened so quickly, my brain didn't have time to process it. But my body sure did. He was everywhere, surrounding me and heating my blood. His body was strong and hard and safe. I felt like a woman—like a sexual being that craved another. Lust raced through me, concentrating in my core. I wanted him so badly, my body shook with the effort it took not to turn around and finally feel his soft lips on mine, taste him on my tongue. And I didn't want to run.

Then those lips were at my ear, whispering some sexy French words. His voice, though deep and soothing, broke the moment. I was relieved when he put space between us. I was relieved that he knew I needed him to.

My phone whistles on the counter, and my heart kicks into high gear. Ben's name is on the screen, and I can't get to his message fast enough. I laugh when I read the text.

Ben: Prescient—prophetic, basically.

Here I was, trying to chase thoughts of him from my mind. Be productive n' shit. Then he had to go and be adorable. Asshole.

Me: i knew that one :P gimme another

Ben: Well, now you're just being greedy, young lady. You'll get another one tomorrow, and it will be far more obscure.

Ben: I promise to never disappoint you again.

Me: you haven't, yet. i doubt you ever could.

Honesty. He's earned it, and I want to give it to him. I've been holding back everything that's real about me, giving him only the trivial bits. Ben deserves more from me than that.

Ben: You're an angel.

And there goes my heart, again. Only, this time, it's stuck in my throat. Angel. That's what Andy said Ben called me when he first saw me. Would he still think of me that way if I let him really know me?

Ugh! Why does my brain have to keep going there? I'm not a bad person. I know this. So why am I so disgusted with myself?

It's not like I was planning to live like this forever. Someday, I would've found the courage to see a therapist. Talk to someone about it. But facing your psychological demons is a scary undertaking. Only now, there's something that scares me even more—letting Ben slip through my fingers. If he can continue to be patient with me, then I can put in the effort to trudge through my emotional minefields.

So, I have a plan. Now I just need to follow through with it.

*

The next two weekends go pretty much like our first. Ben texts me in the morning, I meet him out somewhere, and we enjoy a long day in a well-chilled building. The Saturday after the museum, it's a massive indoor flea market. The weekend after that is the Franklin Institute—lots of interactive exhibits that seemed far more awesome when I was a kid. But the following Wednesday, I receive a different kind of invitation from him.

Ben: We're having a wedding reception for my sister this Saturday.

I'm immediately disappointed. When did I get so dependent on him for companionship and—hell—happiness. I got through the first month living on my own just fine. I can survive one weekend without Ben. More, if I absolutely have to.

Ben: It's at my place. I'd love it if you came.

Ben: Andy will be there, too. Not sure if that's a draw or a deterrent.

Draw. Shit! Deterrent. I meant deterrent, I swear. ...I am so fucked.

Me: wouldn't it be weird? will there be many people there?

Ben: Some family and some friends of my sister and her husband. Nothing huge.

Ben: It'll be better if you're there.

He's been so amazing these past four weeks, never pressuring me for anything I wasn't ready to give. If he wants me at this party, how can I say no?

Me: i'm in.

Ben: Thank you.

I rush to my laptop and open up the program I've been using as a kind of diary. Ever since I vowed to get my act together, I've forced myself write down some thoughts once a day. More, if I feel the need to. So far, I've only tackled my relationship with Cameron and the progression of his emotional abuse. It took an entire week of journaling to finally put that label on what he put me through. It's not much, but it's progress.

My fingers hover over the keys. There's something I need to type, but it's locked up tight in my mind. Tomorrow, I promise myself. I make the same promise the next two nights, breaking it each time.

*

Standing in front of my full-length mirror, I examine myself from every angle. Tonight, I meet Ben's family. We may be just friends, but this feels significant. It's important to Ben, though, so it's automatically important to me.

I chose a light peach, sleeveless silk wrap dress and nude strappy heels. My only jewelry is a mix of different strands of pearls I inherited from my grandmom. I let my hair air dry in twists all day, so instead of my usual unruly waves, it falls in loose curls, with a few pieces braided and pulled back. I'm not wearing a bra. The top of the dress holds everything in well enough, but my breasts aren't small, so it feels a little obscene.

Too late for second guessing, now. Ben sent a car for me, and I get a text that it's waiting outside. When I step onto the sidewalk, there's a sleek, black town car idling in front of my building.

Well, damn. I feel all fancy, now.

The driver opens my door once we arrive at Ben's house, and I walk up the steps. After taking a deep, calming breath, I raise my finger to the doorbell. The door swings open as soon as I press the little black button, and Ben stands in front of me, wearing the shit out of a dress shirt and slacks. No tie, sleeves rolled up. And, of course, his usual man-bun and five o'clock shadow. I should probably close my mouth before I make a dribbling fool of myself.

"Jesus, Claire. You're stunning." He's looking at me like this is the first time he's laid eyes on me.

"You look..." I mentally run through all the superlatives in my vocabulary, but not one of them measures up to the hotness I see before me. "I have no words for how you look, actually."

"I'm going to take that as a compliment," he says, and I nod enthusiastically. "Come in. People are dying to meet you."

"Nope. No pressure, at all." There is no subtlety to my sarcasm.

"Shush. They're going to love you." His smile is one of pride, like he's excited to show me off. I'm not exactly big on being the center of attention in these types of situations, but at least it'll be temporary. This night is about his sister, not me.

Once we reach the living room at the top of the stairs, at least a dozen heads swivel in my direction. Fantastic. Time to put my game face on, be engaging, and wow the crowd. I can usually keep that up for about thirty minutes before I need to retreat and regroup. When a bubbly young brunette comes bounding toward me, I shave five minutes off that estimate. When she hugs me, I subtract another ten.

"You must be Claire. I can't believe we're finally meeting you!" She releases me, but holds onto my hands and steps back to get a good look at me. "She's stunning, Ben."

"That's exactly what I said. Claire, this is Leah, my baby sister."

She glares at him. "You don't get to call me that, anymore. I'm married and pregnant, for crying out loud."

"Oh my God. Congratulations!" I turn to Ben and smack him on the arm. "Why haven't you told me you're going to be an uncle, you idiot? That's huge!" He just looks at me and shrugs, like he gets nieces and nephews all the time.

"Yep. I like her." Leah pronounces with a nod. Whew. One down. How many to go? I'm about to find out, because Leah leads me across the room to where the rest of the family is gathered, watching our approach. I'm introduced to Leah's new husband, Henry, her father, and her and Ben's mother.

Karine is class personified, and intimidating as hell with her sleek bob, impeccable dress, and effortless perfection. It feels like this woman could make or break me. Not that I believe Ben would reevaluate our friendship based on his mother's approval—or disapproval—of me. But still...

She takes my hands, just as her daughter did, and kisses me on both cheeks. Turning to Ben, she gushes to him in French. "Elle est si belle!" I recognize belle, at least, so I know enough to be flattered. And to blush.

"More than you know, mom." Karine beams at Ben, and he smiles down at me. In that moment, it all becomes overwhelming. All this praise. All this excitement over my presence at the party. Ben has clearly talked me up to his family. Who do they think I am to him? More importantly, who am I to him? I need to step away for a moment, so I excuse myself and head to the bathroom.

I stay in there until the redness leaves my cheeks and I calm down enough to realize that Ben's family liking me is a good thing. Duh. Of course it is. But before I head back out to the party, I revisit the bedroom I slept in that first night. It's so beautiful, so serene. It'll make for a nice temporary sanctuary.

When I open the door and step inside, I see a tall, dark figure standing in front of one of the windows.

"Andy?" He looks over his shoulder at the sound of his name. When he sees it's me, he turns completely around.

"Peach," he breathes, and my heartbeat stutters. "I saw you out there. You really are an angel tonight."

"I'm not. Trust me." Why I'm offering that up is beyond me. I perch on the edge of the bed, and Andy sits beside me, our thighs close to touching. I freeze and watch the few inches between us to make sure they stay there.

"Nobody's perfect, babe. Some people just come closer to it than others." His dark brown eyes seek out mine, then. "You and Benny, for sure."

"Ben, maybe," I murmur, then sidestep the rest of that conversation. "You should hear the way he talks about you, though. He really cares about you."

"The feelin's mutual, believe me." I'm still trapped in his intense gaze. He looks hesitant, wary. "And what about you? Do you care about him?"

My throat closes up, and I have to swallow a few times before I can answer him. "How could I not?"

"He likes you, too, you know." Andy looks at me like he's trying to tell me something without speaking the words. I have a good idea what they are, and I won't force him to say them. Especially since they're not words I can handle hearing.

Time for another topic detour. "So, what happened to the force of nature I met a month ago? Every time I've seen you since then, it's like you've been watered down version of him." He's hung out with us the few times Ben and I watched TV or ate dinner here. I like having him around. He adds some levity to the growing tension between me and his friend.

Then again, he adds a little tension of his own, too.

"I thought maybe I came on too strong that one time. I dunno... I feel bad about freakin' you out like that."

"Sometimes I need a good shove, Andy. I may be a little fragile now, but I'm working on it. Ok? So, just be you. Be sweet all you want, but don't be boring. It doesn't suit you." I smile at him and stand up. The urge to kiss his lips was getting too strong, so I needed to remove myself from temptation. "They're probably wondering if I've escaped through the window, or something, so... Are you coming?"

"Nah. I'm gonna stay in here for a minute."

I nod once, then leave the room and shut the door behind me. It's a much needed barrier between me and the man who makes me expose way too much of myself. When I look up, Ben is leaning on the opposite wall. I jump, then feel instant guilt over my talk with Andy.

"You care about me?" he asks, a pained but hopeful look on his face.

"Of course I do, Ben. I thought that was obvious."

"It's nice to hear, though." He pauses, then, and I watch as he considers what to say next. "But you care about him, too."

"I don't know what I feel when it comes to Andy," I tell him honestly, "but, yeah. I think I might." He nods his head, accepting my answer. "It doesn't matter, though. Not right now. But it might, at some point, and I just don't want... I don't want that to cause any problems between you two. I can't have that on my conscience."

"Like you said, it doesn't matter right now. Now, come back out. My family really likes you, you know." His smile is genuine, and I release a breath I've been holding since I realized he'd heard my talk with Andy.

*

All the guests, including Andy, left a while ago. I stayed behind to help with the cleanup, and also because I need to make sure Ben and I are ok. Sure, I could slink off like a coward and deal with it later—which is exactly what I feel like doing—but if I don't have this conversation tonight, I know I'll chicken out.

For hours, I was sociable, pleasant, and witty. But all the while, I was physically and emotionally exhausted. It felt the same as when a car crashed into my driver's side door, just after I'd gotten my license. My body was sore from the shock of the impact, and in the aftermath I was left with residual fear and relief that I'd survived. It sounds dramatic, but my brain can't tell the difference between that crash and finding Ben in the hallway earlier.

This past month, I've done what I can to show Ben he means something to me. Before meeting him, I was sure I'd be spending the summer hiding in my apartment and beating myself up for mourning a terrible relationship. I'd prepared myself for boredom, loneliness, and steadily increasing insanity. But then there was Ben. He changed everything, and I am so grateful for his presence in my life. It's time I let him know that. I was planning to, I swear... when I was ready. Who knows when that would've been, so it's for the best that it happened by accident.

I can't stop thinking about Andy, though. He tests my limits, even when he's not being an aggressive, arrogant bastard. He asks direct questions, not allowing me to hide behind my anxiety. Much as I wanted to dance around the real answer when he asked about my feelings for Ben, my mouth wasn't capable of speaking anything other than simple truth. If he had asked me how I feel about him, I would've been compelled to give him that truth, too.

I like him. I like him, and I like Ben. Separate, they are beautiful, wonderful men. They just complement each other so well, like they're both better people because they have each other. It's no wonder their bond is so tight. But is it unbreakable? Even if nothing romantic happens between me and one of the guys, am I creating a rift just by being in their lives? Is it selfish of me stick around if there's a chance of that?

Ugh. Enough overthinking. I stayed to talk to Ben, so that's what I'm going to do. I sit on the couch and watch him finish stacking the dishwasher. He takes longer than necessary drying his hands with a dishtowel. Is he as nervous as I am? Is he worried about what I might say or about what he needs to say to me?

He turns around and catches me staring. His smile is timid, but it reaches his eyes, so I know it's real.

After pouring us each a glass of wine, he comes to join me on the couch, leaving only a few inches of space between us. I eye that space and burst with pride. To me, it represents the progress I've made since that first night, when I couldn't bare being any closer than at opposite ends of the couch. Actual, tangible progress. It gives me courage.

"Are we ok?"

"We're more than ok, Claire. Really." Even if he means what he says, it doesn't make a dent in my guilt. "You told me you care about me. How could I not be ok with that?"