Between Never and Forever by Brit Benson

10

My body tingles.

For hours or minutes, I can’t tell. I’m humming, buzzing. A neon sign. A flowing web of kinetic energy. Every movement creates waves of color. Every touch an explosion of sensations.

The delicate skin at my waist vibrates where he rests his hands, emanating to every sensitive, intimate spot. Behind my ear. The nape of my neck. Between my legs. My hard nipples rub at the fabric of my bra, and I want more.

A giggle bubbles out of me.

I laugh and laugh, blissful, then press closer, needing his skin on mine. Needing to erase the colorful waves that separate us.

“Are you okay?”

His voice is low. Low and so, so sweet. He’s always been so sweet. His concern for me. His care. His deep timbre echoes around me, blanketing me, and I breathe it in. I press my hands to his chest, feel his skin mold with mine through thin cotton, then wrap my arms around his neck.

“Sav.”

He’s at my ear. Inside my head. I lean my whole body on him. I want to melt into him. He laughs, his chest rumbling against mine, and I moan. The way it feels against my nipples. My pussy. Everything pulses in the most delicious way.

“Do you want to sit?”

“Mmmm.” I press my nose into his neck. “You smell good.”

His throat contracts. I can hear his hard swallow. I kiss his Adam’s apple, and his body quakes. I want more.

I gaze up at him. His halo of stars is bright, making his handsome face glow. His eyebrows are slanted. His full lips are downturned, and I run my fingers over them.

I remember this mouth.

“So stern.” I rub my thumb back and forth over his plush lower lip. “But so soft.”

Out of curiosity, I push my thumb into his mouth, and mine opens on a gasp when he sucks, the pad of my thumb caressed by his hot tongue. His fingers dig into my sides, sinking through the soft flesh and tickling. Something firm presses into my hip, and I press back. I drag the pad of my thumb over his bottom teeth and a whimper escapes. Mine? His? I’m not sure, but I feel it.

Slowly, smoothly, I slide my thumb from his mouth and into mine. I want to taste him. Want to feel what he felt. I imagine my thumb as his. My mouth as his. My head clouds with more colorful waves—a thicker, more liquid sensation—and I rise on my tiptoes, fusing our lips together.

He opens, and I’m awash in the flavor of him.

Citrus lips. Whiskey tongue.

So soft. So soft.

I’m spinning around him. We’re spinning together. The breeze tickles my skin, cooling every place that he heats. I seek out his tongue, in and out, to the tune of the surf ebbing and flowing. I latch onto his body. I pull him close. Closer. Closer still.

“Slow down.”

The soft words dance over my face, leaving me cold, and I hear him chuckle.

“I don’t want to go slow,” I tell him. “I want to make it all up.”

The time. I want to make up the time. What we’ve lost. What we’ll lose. I try to explain but the words stick to my tongue, and all I want to do is breathe them into him.

“C’mon.”

His warm hand encases mine, and I close my eyes and let him lead me. The sand feels gritty and strange between my toes, and I flex them back and forth as we walk, sending electric shocks up my calves and thighs. I squeeze his hand and press my thighs together. My stomach jumps. My pussy throbs.

I open my eyes as the music gets louder, wrapping me up with sound.

“Why are we back here?”

I roll my head to him and his smile glows. I put my fingers on his lips again, seeking out his heat. When he speaks, his mouth drags over the pads of my fingertips, burning my fingerprints. I think they’re altered forever.

“We can’t have you running off into the surf, Sav. We should stick close to your friends.”

I shake my head no, the motion slow and heavy. I smile back at him as he laughs, rumbling my chest and between my legs.

“I want to go home,” I tell him. My voice sounds wistful and dreamy in my own ears. “I want to go home with you.”

“Okay. I can get you home. Wait right here. Don’t try to wander off again. I’ll be right back.”

He lets go of my hand, and I frown down at it. It’s empty and alone now. I close my eyes. He’s gone, but I’ll wait. I hum along with the music, swaying back and forth to the tune.

Hands wrap around my waist, and I sink into him. Lips press into my neck, and I tilt my head to the side, reaching for him, wanting more. His mouth moves to mine, and when it lands, I pull away.

It’s wrong. Spicy. Not citrus. Tequila. Not whiskey.

I open my eyes, and instead of brown, I’m met with blue.

“Sean?”

“Want to get out of here, Savvy?”

He leans back in for my lips, slow motion cutting through the color, and I dodge him.

“Yeah.”

I do want to get out of here. I’m leaving with Levi. I open my mouth to say that, but I’m smothered with spice and tequila and someone else. I shove at his chest, twist my body to make room between us, but it doesn’t work. I swing through the color, but nothing happens.

“Sean. Get off,” I mumble against his mouth, trying to shake my head.

“Savvy.”

His voice is a moan. I feel tentacles or ropes or hands on my hips, my ass, my chest. I push and push, and my shoulders burn.

“Off, Sean. No.”

It’s wrong. It’s all wrong. The taste. The feel. The man. I twist again, bring my knee up into something soft, and he grunts. His weight is heavier, suffocating, and then...

He’s gone.

I shake my head, open my eyes, and watch as Levi shoves Sean. Sean swings at him, and I yell. In my head? Out loud? Stop. No. Don’t hurt him. Then Torren comes out of nowhere and shoves Levi. Levi stumbles backward, but rights himself quickly and lunges at Torren.

“She said no.”

Levi growls, throwing his own fist and landing it on Torren’s jaw, then kicking at Sean on the ground. I see the colors explode, shock waves flowing outward from the impact. Red. Deep red.

“What the fuck,” Torren yells. Throws his body into Levi. “Get the fuck off of him.”

Levi twists. Torren hits the sand. I feel the Earth quake. He yells something, vulgar and rude, then tries to stand.

“You’re a damn pathetic mess.”

I can hear the patronizing tone in Levi’s voice, the disgust, and my lips turn down. My eyebrows grow heavier. He’s stern again. Scowling and angry.

“What the fuck?” Jonah.

Jonah falls to the sand next to Torren, looks at Sean, then looks up at me. His jaw drops, and he whispers my name, then turns an angry face back to Sean and Torren. Angrier than I have ever seen Jonah.

I glance down at myself. My shirt is off one arm. My bra is askew, barely covering me. The button on my shorts is undone. The ocean breeze dances over bare skin—more than there was before—and my cheeks are cold. Wet. Like I’m crying.

Sean did this?

I look at Levi, but he’s staring daggers at Jonah, Torren, and Sean. He flings a finger at all of them.

“Get him out of here before I kill him,” he says, and I shiver. He’s not lying. I can feel it in his tone. “He’s fucked up. She said no. He hurt her. He tried to—”

“I wasn’t hurtin’ her,” Sean defends, at the same time Torren shouts, “dude, calm down.”

I feel eyes on me, but I keep mine on Levi. My chest aches at the look on his face. Anguish. Fear. Rage. He whirls on Torren.

“Calm down? You’re trying to fucking protect this fuck when you should be protecting, Savannah,” Levi growls. “Do you see what he did to her?”

Torren looks at me.

“Savvy, I—”

“Don’t fucking talk to her. Don’t look at her. Go home. Go the fuck home and take that guy with you.”

I don’t hear anything else from Torren, Jonah, or Sean. I don’t look at them. I just watch as Levi stalks toward me and then stops in front of me, shielding my body from the guys. Carefully, with a touch that’s impossibly soft, he buttons my shorts back up, then rights my shirt and buttons it up to my neck. His skin never touches my skin. The colors remain swirling thickly between us.

“You okay?”

I look into his eyes and breathe a sigh of relief. Dark, dark brown. I nod.

“Yes. Thank you.”

His eyes search mine. His eyebrows still slanted and harsh. I reach up and smooth my thumb between them, erasing the lines there before tracing my fingers over both eyebrows, down his jaw, over the cute little dimple in his chin, and back to his lips.

Softly, he presses a kiss to my fingertips, then nods. He pulls my body under his arm, and I sink into his warmth once more.

“I’ll take you home.”

I follow him, through the sand and up the beach. He finds my boots and slips them on my feet. We step onto pavement. We walk on a sidewalk, then stop at a curb where a car waits, exhaust mixing with the briny, humid air. Levi opens the back door, maneuvers me inside, then climbs in next to me. I rest my head on his shoulder and keep my eyes shut for the drive. I focus on the way his hands feel on my arm, trailing sparks up and down. The weight of his cheek resting on my head.

When the car stops, he slides out, then helps me out to stand next to him. I look up at a familiar building and smile. My house. We walk to the door, and he turns the knob.

“Damn.”

My foggy brain knows it’s locked. My roommate is working tonight.

“The frog,” I say, and raise a heavy hand to point at the little ceramic frog holding a pin wheel to the right of the door. Levi looks where I’m pointing, then bends down and lifts the frog.

“Thank you,” he mumbles as he fits the key into the knob, then swings the door open slowly.

He shuffles me into the house, and I cling to his hand, leading him to my room.

“Will you be alright?”

He stands in my doorway, arms folded across his chest, eyeing me with concern that makes my heart squeeze and my stomach flip.

“Are you going to leave?” I hear myself ask, and he shrugs. I shake my head. “Stay.”

I start to unbutton my shirt and he turns around. Another giggle. More laughter. He’s laughing, too. I can tell. I strip naked while his back is turned, then slip a large shirt over my head before stepping into a pair of underwear.

I’m still wobbly, but not as much as before. The colors are still here, but muted. My senses are dulling, my energy draining, but the pulsing at my core is still strong. I climb onto my mattress.

“Levi,” I say softly.

He turns toward me, and I pat the bed. He doesn’t move except for a twitch in his jaw. I smile and roll my eyes, then pat the bed again.

Slowly, he kicks off his shoes, then closes the distance between us. He lowers himself down next to me, and I lie my head on the pillow. He does the same. For a moment, we just lie there, gazing at each other. I listen to him breathe. I watch the emotions battle in his eyes as I feel my own eyes drifting shut.

I don’t want to fall asleep. I don’t want this to end.

I scoot closer and put my lips on his once more. He still tastes like whiskey. Like citrus. I whimper as his tongue tangles with mine. When he groans, I put my hands on him, tugging at his belt. Fumbling with the buckle.

He wraps his hand around mine, firm but gentle, and halts my movements.

“Sleep, Sav,” he says against my lips. I pull back to look at him, but my eyes won’t open. “Sleep.”

My body starts to obey despite my protests.

“I want you.” My voice is a rasp, my words thick and heavy. Lust. Exhaustion. The come down. “I want you, Levi.”

Gently, he moves his hand to my shoulder and turns me, then wraps his arm around my body and pulls me to his chest. His breath tickles my scalp. His palm rests on my hip. My body relaxes, like it used to when he’d hold me like this. Safe and warm and finally able to rest.

“I want you,” I mumble again through tired lips.

His arms tighten around me. His heart thunders against my back. When he speaks, it’s a whisper. Almost a plea. I barely hear it, but it’s there.

“Then still want me tomorrow.”

* * *

When I wake, it’s nearly dawn.

My sad little window AC unit whines under the weight of the humid heat, and my bedsheets stick to my bare legs. Levi’s arms tighten around me, the steady rhythm of his breathing catapulting me backward into his childhood bedroom.

I still can’t believe he’s here.

Slowly, careful not to wake him, I roll over, so we’re face to face. In the semi-darkness, I can barely make out his features, but I don’t need to see them to know them. Even three years later, I could draw him from memory. When we’re old and wrinkled, I’ll still recognize him. Age doesn’t change the way a soul feels.

When we were fifteen, I’d lie like this and watch him sleep before I had to slip out the window and leave the safety of his room. I’d study him, memorizing every freckle, every eyelash, every dream-filled pout and pained whimper. Even when he was close, he felt unattainable. Too good. Too pure. I’d tease him about it, but deep down, I agreed with his mother. I knew I’d ruin him. I’d dirty him up, tarnish his shiny gold halo, and set fire to his perfect angel wings.

Flashes of memories flicker in and out of my head, pictures of scenes from hours earlier. I close my eyes and try to bring them into focus, but everything is blurred on the edges. Like I was a witness, not a participant, watching through thick, colorful smoke.

My fingers burn, and I remember running them over Levi’s lips. Remember kissing him. Citrus and whiskey. Did it really happen, or was it just another one of my intoxicated dreams? Drunk or high, every time, I’ve dreamt of him.

I snake my hand between us, raise it to his mouth, and lightly trace his lips. His brow furrows in sleep and his nose scrunches up, and I stifle a laugh. Then I do it again, running the pads of my fingers over his lower lip.

“What are you doing?”

His gruff voice makes me jump, and I let out a startled squeak. He smirks, but he doesn’t open his eyes, and I huff, giving his chest a shove.

“You scared me, you ass.”

He tightens his arms around me and peeks one eye open.

“Why are you feeling me up like a creep?”

I wipe my face of expression, then raise a brow slowly.

“Just seein’ if you were real.”

He opens his other eye and smiles softly.

“I’m real if you’re real.”

My eyes bounce between his. His face becoming clearer with every minute of the sunrise.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, his voice still rough from sleep. I shrug.

“Fine. Why?”

“You were pretty out of it last night...” He lets the statement trail off, and he studies me, searching my face for I don’t know what. “What do you remember?”

I sift through my brain before speaking, then list everything I know was real.

“A party on the beach. A bonfire. Wading into the ocean. Losing one of my earrings. Dancing with you. Mabes and Crystal got into a fight, then made up, then left together after Jonah told them to stop boning on the beach.”

I giggle and Levi’s lips quirk up. He nods. Mabel was so mad at Jonah, but that’s nothing new. Those two fight like siblings. I’d be worried about how it would affect the band if I wasn’t sure it came from a good place. Jonah is a protector and a planner. Mabel is the opposite, so they butt heads.

When Levi’s smile fades, the back of my neck prickles.

“What?” He doesn’t answer right away, so I press again. “What, Levi?”

“Do you remember anything with Sean?”

I want to fidget under his focused gaze. I want to look away, but I don’t. Instead, I search his eyes as I fumble through my memories of the night before. Torren. The molly. Then Sean...

My head jerks back, and my eyes widen. Levi folds his lips between his teeth and nods slowly. I shake my head back and forth.

“No...” I breathe out. No way. That couldn’t have been real.

“Yeah, and your fucking bassist tried to defend him. Was going to let him do it.”

No. Sean would never. He’s always been flirty, but he flirts with everyone, and Torren would never let anyone hurt me.

“Yeah, Sav,” Levi says slowly. “You were telling him no. You were struggling. If I hadn’t...”

He clamps his eyes shut and his nostrils flare, his jaw so tight it could slice through me.

“And then Torren fucking tried to fight me for pulling that sleazeball off you.”

“He was probably confused,” I say quickly, and Levi’s eyes pop back open. I don’t know why I need to defend Torren, but I do. “He probably didn’t understand what was going on. He was tripping. He was on drugs. He was confused. Sean is Torren’s brother. He didn’t know.”

“Savannah,” Levi says, and his dark tone sends a shiver down my spine. “There is no excuse. None. Definitely not for what Sean did, and not for Torren either.”

I bristle at the authority in his voice, the patronizing attitude behind it. I want to argue with him, to tell him he doesn’t know Torren or Sean. It’s none of his business. He needs to back off.

But then I remember something else.

The careful way Levi buttoned up my shirt and refastened my shorts. How he brought me home and stayed when I asked. Get him out of here before I kill him. The way my heart races...

So, I nod.

“You’re right,” I tell him. “There’s no excuse. I’m going to talk to him. To all of them.”

He’s quiet again, searching my face with a furrowed brow, trying to find the lie. I roll my eyes and shove his chest again.

“I’m serious. I’m bein’ honest. You are right, and I will talk to them.”

The sun is up now, and my room is filled with the early morning glow. It hasn’t escaped my attention that Levi’s arms are still around me despite the rising temperature. He’s still holding me, and I’m still letting him. It’s unnerving. I can’t get this close if I’m just going to have to say goodbye again.

“I’m never up this early,” I say with a forced grin. “Want to go get pancakes?”