Page 88 of Unbound

She can say that we’re friends. I’ll always be hers.

Her other hand falls from the protective hold across her middle, fingers curling deftly around my belt loop. She doesn’t pull. She hardly moves, just sways slightly.

As if we’re dancing, slowly, barely touching.

My desire for her has only grown, whether we’re distant or she’s asleep and safe in my bed, in my arms. It never goes away. I can’t rid myself of it, and I don’t want to.

I’ll never pressure her for anything, but I will always long for her. Fingers in soft wet hair, hands on damp skin, and Paloma Blake soft and vulnerable and trusting beneath me. Moonlight and the sound of waves. A blue backpack and stuffed rabbit. Coconut cake and salt air. Damp skin warm against mine. Words pressed from my mouth and into hers, like I could breathe poetry into her lungs.

“P,” I whisper. We aren’t touching, but it feels like I’m buried inside her, just as overwhelming and intense.

Her breathing is somehow louder than the music, a pattern I recognize from late nights and early mornings and every single time she let me have her.

I step closer and the bubble bursts, a stricken look crossing Paloma’s face. I feel her leave before she actually does. She takes her seat at our table, where Sadie, Rhys, Freddy, and Ro are, and smiles politely as Rosalie asks her something.

I follow her—I always do—standing next to Rhys at the side of the table and offering a clap to his shoulder.

“Great work up there,” I say.

He shakes his head, tucking a few loose strands of shaggy brown hair back behind his ear. “Shut up.”

I laugh and he beams.

“I’m glad you’re here, Ben.”

My gaze finds Paloma’s, the eye contact just as intense as everything is where she’s involved, and I smile at her, bright and warm. If being friends with her means having her here, with the people that have become my family, then I’ll take it.

Rhys is still smiling at me, watching me watch Paloma with a twinkle in his eye, one dimple showing as he tilts the bottle of beer back. He’s different, from freshman year, from last semester. A good different. We both are.

“Me too,” I say, smiling at him, reaching for his arm to squeeze it.

Chapter 40

NOW

Paloma

“I’d like to talk about your relationship to intimacy.”

My eyes don’t move from the torn-up section of the carpet where the roller wheel of Dr. Sutton’s office chair has pulled at the threads over and over. Brow furrowing, I bite down on my lip.

“You mean sex?” I blurt.

“Sure.”

I shrug, playing with the end of my sloppy braid. “It’s not a big deal to me. You can just say sex, it’s whatever.”

Watching her expression carefully, I can’t help feeling like I’m revealing my cards without meaning to.

“What do you mean? Do you enjoy sex?” she asks bluntly.

A flash of ocean-blue eyes, a scratchy voice asking me to look at him. The feeling of hands in my hair. “Sometimes.” I shake my head, attempting to double down. “It’s just . . . it’s not important, really. It’s just sex.”

Not with Bennett. I shut the thought down before it shows across my face.

“Right.” She nods.

“I’ve been having sex since I was fourteen, so it’s not that big of a deal, okay?” I say, feeling the defensiveness rise but unable to quell it. “We don’t even need to talk about it, really.”