Under the Orange Moon (5 page)

Why do you keep letting him do this to you?
she thought, as she pulled the pillow over her head.

She had gone on just fine without him around and now his beautiful face was not just in her mind and memory, it was real and saying things that her imagination had not allowed before.

This was his game and she would always be the fool that let him win her over. Even five years later, he still managed to aggravate her, hurting her more than anything. She had always wondered what a run-in with Ben would do to her and now she knew. He was the same Ben that he always has been with no glint of hope for a change.

Dylan pictured him talking to the redhead with her cleavage flopping out of her shirt in front of his eyes. She thought of herself on the other side of the spectrum, ordinary and the weed that she had always been known as. Ben had always wanted the perfect girls, the fake bimbos that knew more about lip-gloss than they did about art, culture and the environment. 

She promised herself that the next day would be different. She would ignore him for the next three weeks and hopefully she would be stronger when she saw him again in another five years. 

From the moment he understood that he was attracted to Dylan, Ben wanted nothing more than to touch her skin and smell her hair. She acted nothing like the girls he dated. She was so much more beautiful, interesting even, and she didn’t even have to try.

He didn’t care that she wore loose-fitting clothes and could run faster than every kid in their neighborhood growing up. There was something about Dylan that no one else held. She was just as beautiful in her baggy jeans as she was in the tiny boy shorts she slept in when she thought no one would see—anyone but Ben, of course. It remained an unanswered mystery. For whatever reason, she didn’t seem to mind when he saw her body.

Cursed with the knowledge of how perfectly built she was, he would let his imagination run untamed with thoughts about her. He was almost certain that he fantasized about her since he realized the pleasure and, at the same time, the guilt that came along with it.

To put it simply, his penchant for Dylan was hard to resist, even more so at night.

He loved to sneak into her bed. There was something soothing about being next to her. He would wrap his arms around Dylan and align his body along hers, molding himself against her. There was something about the nighttime that made him bold, never caring if she was awake or not while he slept beside her, holding her.

Of all the times he did this, there was only one time that he knew Dylan was aware. It was the night before he left for school. His mother had been crying, her final attempt to guilt him into staying with her in Phoenix. He left to quiet her sobs and, more than anything, to be near the only person who made him feel alive.

On that night, five years before, he crept into the Mathews’ home. There was so much movement there that he knew no one would ever tell the difference between him and one of the loud Mathews boys. It was safe to come and go in that house, not that anyone would care if they did catch Ben walking around at three in the morning.

He had to be next to her one more time before he left for school and he prayed that she was asleep. He needed to spend his last night in Phoenix beside her. He needed to touch her and bask in the arousal it gave him.

Ben opened her door and stepped into Dylan’s dark room. He removed his shirt and slid under the sheets. He moved close to her, barely enough that he could feel her breath on his chest. He let his arm relax over her body and moved his hand into her soft hair.

Dylan moved closer to him and flipped onto her back. Ben could feel her bare skin beneath his. The bottom of her breast rested against his arm and it nearly sent him into a pleasure induced coma. It was obvious she was awake and even more that she was happy he was in her twin bed.

His mind didn’t think. He couldn’t let the better part of his brain remind him of why it was wrong. He let his hand move under the fabric of her shirt, traveling over her warm skin. It was a sin against nature for something to feel this good. Before he could even stop himself, his hand was on her breast.

He had startled her. He realized this only when he heard her hiss into the air above them. A gasp escaped from her mouth while she lifted her head and quietly sighed back into his arm.

He moved his mouth to her hair. He barely allowed his lips to touch the skin of her neck while he inhaled her beautiful scent. He imagined all the things that he could do to her and with her.

Dylan kept her eyes closed as she pulled him on top of her and welcomed his hard body between her legs. The shift in control was too much for him and he didn’t know why. He shouldn’t have thought and he was angry at himself for allowing his brain to function. He had to
stop
. This wasn’t Dylan, and he certainly couldn’t allow meaningless sex to be the last memory with her.

He said nothing as he moved off of her suddenly. He refused to look at her face as she sat up and stared at him with a confused glare. It was dark in Dylan’s room, but he didn’t need the guidance of light to know there was an unforgiving amount of pain flowing from her eyes. He pulled his shirt over his head and fled like the gutless dog he knew that he was. That was the last time he would see her for five long years.

Now, in a symmetrical realm of irony, there he was again. Dylan felt his body slide to hers beneath the blankets. She wasn’t confused if she was dreaming. She knew he was there and she wasn’t the least bit surprised.

His arms wrapped around her torso and he pressed himself to her. His open hands moved down along her skin, causing her still body to shudder against him as he pulled her closer by her hips.

He wasn’t trying to be gentle like he didn’t want to wake her. This was different. Like his looks, the mannerisms in his late night bed invasions had matured into a masculine surprise. 

She didn’t tense up, push him away, or even turn to face him. She only lay perfectly still, knowing if she made any controlling moves he would leave instantly.

He nuzzled his face to her hair, inhaling as he pressed his lips to the skin of her neck. He whispered through a gust of alcohol, “I know we’ve never kissed, Dylan.”

Her lips formed a smile that she would not dare allow him to see. She knew him well enough to know that this would be the extent of his admissions for one evening. Ben always left her wanting more. Tonight, however, that quiet statement was enough for her and now she could sleep.

Dylan awoke to the sound of Ben leaving. She opened her eyes just in time to see the bare back of him sneaking out her door. She imagined him fearfully looking around to make sure that not a soul would see his secret departure. If he were to get caught, she was sure he would hope for it to be Hugh out of them all. Hugh would give him less grief.

No one would guess that nothing happened while Ben slept in her bed, spooning her body in such a way. It was difficult for even Dylan to understand. Even with his hands all over her, his discipline was something she couldn’t comprehend. She could feel him against her and she was well aware of his arousal, but not even then would he act on it.                                                       

She rolled over and sighed as she looked out her window. The sun had not risen and her day was far from beginning. Despite the fact that it was still early, she could not manage to make herself go back to sleep.

She stood to her feet and slid on a pair of oversized pajama bottoms. She slipped a sweatshirt over her head and walked out of her bedroom, making her way down the stairs.

In the kitchen, the lights were all off, but the dawn sky was just enough light for Dylan to see. She stood over the sink and watched as Ben disappeared over the wall, and headed for his mother’s house.

He was still shirtless. His body seemed to improve over the years, not that it needed to. There was a more chiseled appearance in his chest now. His muscles and tone were sharp, perfectly forming the angles that put his body together. His pelvic bone made a faultless V as it traveled down into his pants, driving her mad as she tried not to look at him.

“Morning,” Linda called from behind Dylan. “What are you looking at?”

Dylan nearly jumped out of her skin. “Nothing. I’m just looking.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Not yet.”

“I’m going to make a big breakfast in honor of your brothers being home. Did you see Hugh and Brandon last night?”

“Yes. Hugh only stayed a few minutes and Brandon brought me home. I have no idea where Charlie went.”

“Charlie’s here. Why did
Brandon drive you home?” Linda poured her coffee and raised an eyebrow at Dylan. “What was wrong with your car?”

“I did too many shots.”

“Oh, Dylan,” Linda said, shaking her head.

“Jonah left his car there. Are you going to be angry at him?”

“I’m not angry. I just don’t understand how you can go to work and come home drunk,” Linda answered, unprepared for her daughter’s snap.

“No one was
drunk,
Mom.”

Linda lifted her hands in peace. “Alright, I’m sorry.” She quickly changed the subject. “Do you think Ben will have breakfast?”

“How should I know what Ben will have?” Dylan felt attacked even though she wasn’t.

“Well, isn’t he here?”

“No. Stop asking me questions.”

“I think you should go back to bed, Dylan. You’re being really snippy.” Linda narrowed her eyes and stared. “What’s wrong?”

“I just want you to let me breathe without hovering over my life every five seconds,” Dylan hissed. “Get a boyfriend or something.”

“Oh yes, I’m the one who needs a boyfriend,” Linda snapped.  “I’m not the one flipping out on people for no reason.”

Immediately Dylan felt the strong, stinging feeling of guilt consume her chest. Her mother, wife turned widow when Carl Mathews lost his battle with cancer more than nine years before, planned to never replace her husband.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I just want you to stop hovering.”

“I wasn’t trying to hover,” Linda replied. “I don’t even know what I said wrong.”

“Nothing. You said nothing.”

Linda put her arms around Dylan’s shoulders and surrendered. “I’m sorry. I just love you.” She waited for Dylan’s inevitable smile. “Help me with breakfast?”

“Fine,” Dylan answered, attempting to cover her childish grin.

Ben stepped in through the sliding glass door just in time for breakfast. He was showered and dressed in clean clothes. His brown hair was still wet and looked towel dried with no trace of evidence that a comb had gone through it yet.

“Where’d you go?” Jonah asked.

Ben smiled. “You were snoring, so I left.”

Dylan felt her cheeks flush with red. She refused to look at his face while he stood above her, grinning mischievously. She was angry that he snuck in her bed but, mostly, she was even more furious at him for leaving. She thought about tying him up next time.

He was back now and standing over her, nibbling on sausage and glancing her way with a satisfied smile, daring to remind her that he had been in her bed. The sausage was enough to send her over the edge, though. He despised bacon, the Mathews’ breakfast side of choice. Linda always made sure to appease Ben with food he loved.
Ridiculous,
Dylan thought.

True to their constant battling and bickering, Ben would challenge her like this regularly. As much as she felt unworthy in his presence, she would always accept his dares in the hope that one day she would feel more like his equal. Nevertheless, that day never came.

Dylan could still clearly recall the way she overcame her transition from training wheels to two wheels. She was five and just couldn’t seem to get the hang of balancing on only two wheels. Oh, she did try to accomplish such an act, but it seemed her self-consciousness would always hold her back. Ben teased her relentlessly one day, zooming past her like a pro and even skidding to a stop to splash a puddle in her face. Call it will, women’s liberation, or just plain old bravery, she finally ripped his bike from his hands and took off with a speedy grace. It wasn’t her brothers cheering, her mother’s happy tears, or her father’s proud smile that day that made her pat herself on the back. It was overcoming Ben’s taunting and proving him wrong. Little did she know then, that earned no points from him and never would.

Ben sat in the chair beside Dylan and picked up her juice. She could feel the anger rising inside her. She knew this was all to irritate her and the part that made her the angriest was the fact that it was working.

Dylan stood up to retrieve a new glass of juice. She took her time pouring it into her glass, listening to the boys’ conversation around the table. It was as if no one had left and their lives were exactly how they always were. The quiet mornings she spent with her mother were always pleasant, but extremely empty. There was a void at the table and, despite the fact that only two sat around it regularly, it still held its leaf as if there were six. Linda and Dylan both did not need to say out loud that they were delighted to fill the empty chairs.