21 – Tempest

Ben didn't move an inch. He had a strange look in his eyes, one she couldn't begin to interpret. Felicity's blood surged in her ears. Every nerve jangled. Now. Now, before he gets up! Do something! She let go of the book and it tumbled to the floor again. She jumped across the space between them into his arms.

He hauled her against him and kissed her recklessly. He held her so hard she couldn't catch her breath, or maybe it was the way he kissed her, she didn't care. His stubble rasped against her face. Felicity kissed him back with equal abandon. Her head spun. She forgot where she was. She almost forgot who she was. She reached a shaking hand around him and slipped it hesitantly under the back of his T-shirt.

When her fingertips touched his spine, he hissed inward and jerked back, breaking the kiss.

She paled at the blazing look in his eyes, afraid she'd done something wrong. "What? What did I do?"

His gaze roved across her face. He swallowed once and took a panting breath. "Are you—Are you sure about this?"

Am I? A few agonizing moments passed, and then she couldn't bear the thought of him not holding her another minute. Gulping down the knot in her throat, she nodded and leaned toward him once more.

He kissed her again, gentler this time, more patiently. She wrapped her arms around him and slid trembling hands under his T-shirt again. He arched away, pulled off the T-shirt, and dropped it on the floor.

Felicity got her first good look at his bare torso. She'd seen it at high school swim meets…but never this close. Never like this. She couldn't help staring at him. He's… He's beautiful. Tense, awestruck, she sat completely still. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she registered the low rumble of thunder outside, but she could hardly make it out over the frantic beating of her own heart.

He smiled a little, took her hand, and put it to his chest with his eyes searching hers.

Felicity laid her palm flat against his heated skin, spreading her fingers into the fine hairs. His heartbeat raced under her fingertips. Is he nervous like me?

A chill traveled up her spine as she realized they had just passed a point in their relationship from which nothing would ever be the same. Every time she looked at him, she'd remember this. The way he felt under her fingers. The way he was looking at her right now.

Ben raised a hand, cupped her face, and pressed his lips against hers. She sank back into his embrace, trailing her fingers across his broad back, exploring him. His arms came up around her and every fiber of her being dissolved into his kisses. Everything she'd ever wanted was right here in this place. Weightless, floating, she let the moment sweep her where it would.

She felt him clutch at the back of her flannel top, crushing folds of it in his hands. He let go of her at once and sat back, looking guilty and…something else. That look again. Deprived of the warmth of his arms, Felicity felt like she'd been hit with a blast of icy air. "Felicity…I don't think… I just don't think I can do this." He dropped his gaze.

Just like that, everything came crashing down on top of her. Bewildered, she felt tears rush forth, welling in her eyes. She blinked them away. Rain began hissing on the roof of the cabin. "Wh-What?"

He exhaled sharply and scraped a hand through his hair. "You—You're right. You were right when you said it's different with us. Or that it would be. Whatever."

"Y-You don't want…?" She couldn't say me. Saying it would make it true.

His eyes flashed up to meet hers, wide and startled. "You think…? Felicity, no. That has nothing—nothing to do with it." He shook his head vehemently and took her hands.

Her heart hammered in her throat. Another question, also one she didn't want to ask. "Is it… Is it Julie?"

"No. No, it's nothing like that." He pulled one of his hands from hers to rub at the back of his neck and looked away. "I don't think it's you who's not ready for this."

He must have anticipated her surprise and hurt, because he grabbed her hands in both of his again. "Believe me when I say I really…really want to. You have no idea how much I want to. I just…" He trailed off, lowering his gaze again. Felicity saw him fumble for words. "We're different now, you know? This isn't just…" He sighed with frustration and a touch of reluctant surrender. "I need to get used to this…okay?" His eyes came up again to meet hers.

The unguarded look on his face hit her blindsided and broke her heart. He'd never looked at her like that before. He's scared. He's scared to get close to me. She bit her lip, sucked in a quivering breath, and nodded. "O-Okay. We don't have to—to do anything."

The corner of his mouth twitched in the briefest shadow of a smile. He sighed again and looked away at the floor. "I'm sorry."

She pursed her lips. "Don't be. It's fine, honestly. I'm okay with that." She ventured a little smile. "You just… You might want to lay off the poetry, okay?"

He laughed at last, a soft exhalation, and stroked the backs of her hands with his thumbs. "Okay."

She bent over the edge of the couch to scoop up the book and his T-shirt, offering them back to him. "I think maybe… Maybe we both need to get used to this."

He took the book and tossed it on the coffee table. The shirt remained in his lap.

A sudden, violent crash of thunder made them both jump, and then the lamp on the end table winked out.

- - - - -

"I guess it's a good thing we've got the fire going, since the power's out. I hope they'll get it back on by morning or we're going to have trouble with the fridge," Ben observed, sitting, still shirtless, on the braided hearth rug before the wood stove.

Felicity came back to the living room with an armful of chocolate, graham crackers, and marshmallows. Ben sat cross-legged before the open grate with a pair of sticks and the fire poker, rearranging the dying fire and adding more kindling. She sat down beside him on the rug. "Can I ask you a question? You don't have to answer it."

He glanced warily at her and prodded at the logs a few more times until the fire began burning more steadily again. "Yeah."

"You're not really looking forward to going home…are you?" She opened the package of marshmallows, keeping her eyes on it rather than him.

Ben put the fire poker back in its stand and picked up one of the sticks. He took a marshmallow from her, jabbed it on the end of the stick, and poked it into the fire. "Not really. It'll be nice to see my friends from high school, find out what they've been up to…and to see Mom. My dad is a whole other story."

She didn't look at him, turning her attention instead to opening the graham crackers and chocolate, and assembling her own marshmallow toaster. "I think it might be a little different…going home this summer. I mean, I've been away for a whole year, now. It's not… It won't feel like home, anymore. Just this—place—I grew up in, you know? Everything's going to feel so strange. Like I don't…live there, anymore…somehow."

He nodded, the contours of his face limned in firelight. "Yeah. Yeah, maybe you're right." He turned his stick a few more times and removed it from the fire. "S'more me."

Felicity took out a graham cracker and a piece of chocolate for him. Ben sandwiched them together with the toasted marshmallow and took a bite. "You know, I haven't made one of these things since I was about seven years old?"

"Really?"

"The first and last official Covington family camping trip. Not fun." He took another bite. "These are better than I remember."

"Well, the Porter household secret was to sprinkle a little cinnamon on them," she told him with a chuckle. "I could never quite get the hang of keeping the marshmallow from sliding off the cracker when I squished it all together." She finished toasting her marshmallow. "My turn."

He put another S'more together for her. They ate in a cozy hush interspersed with rain pattering on the windows and thunder booming outside. A bright flash of lightning illuminated the cabin interior and was gone. "Were you nervous about coming to New York?" he asked at last.

"I was…holding my breath, kind of," she said thoughtfully. "I was scared, and excited…and the whole week before, I kept packing and unpacking these stupid little things, like I thought I'd need them. My first teddy bear, a book I haven't read since grade school, this really bad picture I drew once of my parents… It all seems kind of weird now, when I think about it. New York seemed so big, and I was so freaked out about how far it was from anything I knew. But then I thought…"

"What?"

"Well, I thought…you went there. You were brave enough to go. And if you could do it, I could, too." She flushed and glanced up at him through her lashes. "I know. It's stupid."

"It's not stupid. What you did…it took guts."

She smiled at that. "I guess so."

They talked into the night, about anything and everything, stretching out on blankets spread on the floor before the wood stove, their heads propped close together on their arms. The storm rumbled on outside. Rain beat steadily against the windows. The dimming firelight flickered across the floor, across them, across the remains of their campfire snacks.

"…At graduation, before you came over, I was in the middle of an argument with Mom about Dad," Ben told her. "He'd gotten drunk again, forgot to make the ceremony. Mom was making excuses for him like she always did. I just couldn't stand to hear it anymore. I just got so sick of hearing it, ever since I could remember. I think… I think that was the day I actually, finally gave up on him."

He felt Felicity reach across the floor and put her hand on top of his. She didn't speak.

Ben didn't, either. He wasn't sure what else to say. He rolled onto his back and folded an arm under his head. The ceiling beams of the cabin threw dancing shadows in the glow of the wood stove. He let the storm fill the silence for a bit, just because it seemed to speak more eloquently than he did. "I still don't know what I said or did that made you follow me," he murmured finally, "but I'm glad for whatever it was. It means a lot to me that you did something like that for me."

She didn't reply.

He turned his head to look, whispering, "Felicity?"

Her eyes were closed. She lay with her cheek pillowed on one arm. Her other hand still rested on top of his, and her hair spread around her across the blanket.

Ben just looked at her for a little while. At last, he got up and gathered her limber, slumbering form into his arms. He carried her to the bedroom and laid her gently on the bed, pulling the covers over her. He started a fire in the bedroom's wood stove to ward off the damp chill and went back out to the living room.

For a long time, he stood at the front window and watched the storm cross the lake and move eastward.