I smile at that and respond. “Yeah, to chance meetings and scheduled interviews.”
Taking a sip of his drink, he drags his tongue over his bottom lip in that sexy way he does. He leads us back to the balcony where we sit in separate chaise lounges. I rest my head back and drink my champagne, enjoying the air and his silent company. I think we must both be trying to regain our composure. After a few quiet minutes, he twists his body sideways and faces me. “Do you want to wrap up the interview?”
As I turn my head to answer, I see just a hint of skin at his waist where his shirt has come untucked. I can’t help but grin at how sexy every flex of his muscles and every movement of his abs are. The overall tautness of his body makes me lightheaded. It’s only now, as I think about him, his body, that I notice my erratic breaths.
I think to myself, there is no way I could do the interview now. It takes me a second to compose myself. I then remove the strawberry wedged on the side of my glass, and while looking directly at him I say, “Absolutely not! I can’t focus on work right now with the fabulous view. It’s breathtaking out here. I’d much rather just sit and enjoy it, if that’s okay with you?" I smile at him and slowly lick my strawberry before taking a bite.
Watching me intently as I chew, he turns to sit up. I notice his breath catch and he clears his throat. He places his feet on the concrete perpendicular to me and rests his elbows on his knees. In a low and husky voice he says, “Sounds good to me.”
His head is down, but he’s looking at me with his powerful eyes like I’ve never been looked at before. The way he pierces his eyes at me makes me anxious. He puts his palms together; lacing his fingers and inhales a deep breath. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” I say while continuing to lie on the chaise. I dig my feet into the mesh underneath me in an attempt to stop my jittery nerves.
Bringing his head up, he runs his hands through his hair. “Have you dated anyone since he died?”
“No,” I whisper and say nothing else as my body suddenly goes cold.
Clearing his throat, he blinks thoughtfully and resumes his gaze. “Have you ever slept with anyone else?” he asks, then moves to lean back in his seat. Putting his arms behind his head, he stretches his legs before adding, “Besides him I mean?”
“No,” I whisper again, this time turning to look at the clear sky ahead with its stars shining brightly. “Sounds pathetic, doesn’t it?”
With concern clearly etched in his voice and words spoken that I never expected, he says, “Hey Dahlia, look at me.”
As I turn my head to look at him, his expression is one of compassion and maybe a little unease. Swallowing, he holds his steady gaze. “That’s not pathetic at all. It’s a beautiful thing, being with the same person, caring about someone enough to want to get through all the shi . . . crap life throws your way with them.”
He’s talking to me about Ben, and it’s a little overwhelming at first. Strangely, I find comfort in being able to openly discuss my true reason for not waiting for him after his gig the night we met. I also find his concern and honesty extremely touching. Oddly enough, the mention of Ben’s name right now does not send me spiraling back into my memories. My mind is moving forward toward River, and my body starts to quiver with need again at that thought.
“Yeah, he was there for me through all the shit life threw my way.”
I pause; taking a moment to collect myself and think just for tonight I’m pushing Ben aside and letting River in.