"Peaking in high school is sad," Ben agrees, looking into my eyes.

I smile and nod. I don't want to tell him that I'm still insecure about it, that Mindy brought me to tears and bullied me to the point of faking sick so I wouldn't have to go to school and face her. I shouldn't be ashamed of that.

Shouldn't.

But I'm still scared he'll think less of me, that hearing it out loud will somehow slap sense into him and he'll see me as the nerdy looser Mindy and everyone else saw in high school. I'm so logical it kills me, I know.

"Well," Ben says. "She's still jealous of you if she's talking s.h.i.t."

Still jealous implies that she was once jealous of me, and that's not the case. I just nod again. I came into this conversation with a dozen f.u.c.ks. I wanted to leave with all twelve of them. I want to get to the point where I don't give a single f.u.c.k about Mindy. She's not worth it.

"Have you been to the Gardens and Sculpture Park yet?" Ben asks.

I shake my head since my mouth is full. Once I swallow I say, "No, but I keep hearing about it. I want to go."

"How about this weekend?"

"Yeah, I'd love to."

"And tonight," he says carefully, and for half a second I think he's apprehensive about asking me out again, like I might for some crazy reason turn him down. "Dinner and a movie?"

"Oh yes, that's perfect. A movie I want to see just came out."

"Great," he says with a smile.

"It's so big!" I exclaim.

"That's what she said," Ben says with a grin.

I laugh and roll my eyes. He swings my hand as we walk down a path that leads through a peaceful section of tall gra.s.s, wild flowers, and statues and sculptures in the park. "Really," I say. "I can't believe I've held out on coming here. It's beautiful."

"I'm glad you think so," he tells me and slows when we cross a wooden bridge. People mill about, enjoying the nature and the artwork spread throughout, soaking up the warm June day. We stop walking and Ben wraps his arms around me. I'm not wearing heels this time, just my Hufflepuff Toms, and Ben is several inches taller than me. I go up on my toes and kiss him. "Want to finish the tour or do you want to go back to my place for dinner now?" He raises his eyebrows and I know he's thinking about dessert.

And by dessert, I mean sticking his P in my V.

That's a pretty good dessert.

"It's up to you," I say. "I like it here. It's very calming. And pretty. I like calm and pretty."

He slides his hands along my side and takes both my hands. "We can keep going. I come here from time to time when I want to think. And this place is really inspirational. Then again, so are you."

We cross the bridge and walk in silence, taking in the sights for a few moments. I'm completely comfortable with Ben, which is kind of weird when I think about it too much. Not counting meeting for lunch during the week, this is our third date. We spoke on the phone Thursday night for several hours, and he called me Friday before the art event thing-a-ma-bob that he had to go to just to say hi and see how my day was going.

I'm starting to like him a lot.

We both slept in this morning. The event Ben went to was a few hours away, and by the way he spoke, he didn't get in until late. I stayed up doing important things like arguing on an online forum about the s.e.xism in Cosplay. And playing League of Legends. That's important too, of course.

I called Ben when I got up, like he wanted me to, and we made plans to visit the gardens then go back to his house. He's cooking me dinner. I a.s.sume I'll be spending the night, like he had with me, but, again, I'm not sure the protocol on this kind of thing. Since he picked me up from my house, the ball is in his court. To an extent. Maybe? h.e.l.l if I know.

Instead of looking presumptuous and backing a separate bag, I used my biggest purse and loaded it with a few overnight things, like face wash, my toothbrush, and my travel makeup bag. I folded a new dress and a fresh pair of undies for tomorrow and put it inside, and for tonight, I'm wearing a matching bra and panty set. I like to be prepared.

Speaking of preparedness, I debated on bringing condoms. I didn't, a.s.suming since Ben puts them on his d.i.c.k, he probably has more. I'm currently not on any sort of birth control. I stopped taking it six months into my dry spell because I was too lazy to take it every morning, and really, what's the point when I'm not getting any? I have no problem getting back on it, but I don't want to jump the gun and a.s.sume what Ben and I have will turn into anything ... uh, lasting?

I'm afraid of jinxing this.

Because this-whatever the h.e.l.l it is-is pretty f.u.c.king awesome.

"What do you think about that one?" Ben asks me a while later. I follow his gaze to a gla.s.s sculpture rising from the ground. It's twisted yet graceful and is every color you'd see if you looked up at a starry sky.

"I like it," I say as I inspect it. "It's pretty, and reminds me of ... I really don't know. I'm bad at interpreting art, don't be mad."

Ben chuckles. "I wouldn't be mad, and I think the interpretation is so open. What one person feels and sees is so different from another, and even more different from what the artist was thinking and feeling at the time."

I nod. "Like maybe this artist only had midnight colors to work with, but everyone else says blue means depression or some psychological stuff like that. I happen to think blue is calming, by the way. And open at the same time. That makes no sense, I know."

"I think I'm following," he says.

"It's probably because the TARDIS is blue," I try to joke, then remember Ben isn't a Whovian. That'll have to change if this thing develops further. "And it reminds me of magic and the sky. And the sky is magic, really. The sky is the literal sky, but it's so much more than that too. It's like a symbol of not putting limits on things, and a dark sky reminds me that there is so much out there left to be discovered."

He nods, eyeing the gla.s.s shapes. "You did a good job interpreting that one. Don't say you're not good."

I shrug. "But who knows if that's what I'm supposed to feel."

"You're not supposed to feel one thing or another. Just feel." His arm goes around me and my heart does a skip-a-beat thing. I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes for a long blink. "And the artist would agree with you about blues and limits, well lack thereof."

"How do you know?" I ask, then realize Ben is the artist who made this. Duh, Felicity. "Oh, right. Do you have anything else here?"

"Yes, but we don't have to search it out," he says and I get the feeling he's too humble to take me on a tour to show off his work. "And we've already been by one other one."

My eyes widen. "I didn't insult your work, did I?"

He laughs again, and f.u.c.k, I love when he does. "No, you didn't insult anything. And I take criticism really well. I know not everyone is going to like something I make. You can't please everyone anyway, so why try?"

"Very true," I reply and his statement resonates deep inside. I take the words personally, thinking of how it's taken me years to figure that out.

You can't please everyone.

Not in art, not in life. Why waste the time and emotion fretting about it?

"Haters gonna hate," I say and lace my fingers through Ben's. We continue walking the path. "Life is too short to worry like that, ya know? It took me a while to realize that, to be honest, but I like doing my own thing. It makes me happy, so who cares what others think, right?"

He pulls me in for a kiss. "Exactly."

CHAPTER TEN.

Ben lives in the historic district of Grand Rapids. It's yet another place I'd heard of but hadn't invested the time into seeing. There are historic home tours I meant to go on, but forgot. And it's not like I can just go knocking on doors. Though I have driven down his road a time or two.

His house is one of the larger old homes, and he tells me it was built in the early 1900s. He parks around back, inside a detached garage. The sun is setting, but when we get out, I slow.

"Wow," I say and look up at the large, dark-gray Victorian house. "It's beautiful."

"Thanks," he says and gives the house the same starry-eye look I'm giving it. "It's been a lot of work restoring her, but I love it."

Hearing him refer to his house as a female is oddly charming. "Was it in bad shape when you bought it?"

He shakes his head. "Not horrible shape, but the previous owners attempted to do a lot of upgrades themselves when they weren't skilled enough to do so. I had to take a lot out and redo what could have been left original."

He holds my hand as we go up the wooden steps of the back porch. They creak under my feet. The old wood has a new shine to it, and a cast-iron table and chairs are positioned against the house on the covered porch. I imagine waking up and having coffee out here, looking across the way at the other historic homes. Oh, I wonder if his house is haunted! That would be terrifying and neat at the same time.

A dog barks when Ben sticks the key in the door. Huh, that's interesting. He's never said anything about having to go home and let a dog out.

"Settle down, Harumi," he says when he opens the door. A yellow lab shakes her tail so hard her whole body is wiggling. She wildly greets Ben like she hasn't seen him for days, then comes over to me. "She's very friendly," he says with a smile. "She'll lick you to death."

I bend over, heavy purse falling forward. I drop it on the floor and pet the dog-Harumi, I think Ben called her. "You smell my kitty, don't you?" I ask as she presses her nose all over me and inhales. "He's going to smell you and be mad at me. But that's okay. He's an a.s.shole anyway. It'll serve him right."

Ben holds the back door open and calls the dog out to go potty. I pick up my purse and look around. We entered in through a mud room. A washer, dryer, and ironing board are on one side, with a stack of neatly folded towels on top of the dryer. The other side houses a shoe rack. Most of the shoes are Ben's, but I spot a few that belong to a woman. A woman with small feet, to be exact.

I take my shoes off and go through the mudroom, which emerges into a large kitchen. The cabinets and granite countertops are white, contrasting with the dark wooden floor. The backsplash above the sink looks like stained gla.s.s, no doubt handmade by Ben. Everything is neat and orderly, looking like something from a magazine. There is an oval breakfast table by a large window that looks out to the back porch. I can see Ben toss a ball for Harumi in the small yard.

I set my purse on a chair and stand by the breakfast table, watching Ben for a few seconds before turning to look at more of the house. I'm a.s.suming the woodwork is all original, including the ornate crown molding. I can see a large dining room with a big table off of the kitchen, and a living room to the other side.

The house has that old feel to it, but it's clean and smells like paint, which automatically reminds me of Ben and makes my heart go pitter-patter (and my insides tingle). I want to look around the rest of the house, channeling my inner Winchester and check it out for spirits, but don't want to be rude.

Just then, the door opens and Harumi runs in, followed by Ben.

"I didn't know you had a dog," I say, petting the overly excited lab.

"Yeah," he says. "She's an easy keeper. She's ten, don't let her spastic behavior fool you, and sleeps a lot."

"Awww, she looks good for ten!"

"Thanks," he says and runs his hands over the dog's head.

"This is one of the coolest houses I've ever been in," I say and look around. "I love old houses."

"They have character," he tells me. "Want a tour?"

I eagerly nod. We go through the kitchen in the dining room. I recognize the artwork as Ben's right away. I can't really say he has a style, because everything is so different. But there is something so irrevocably him about it.

The dining room opens to the foyer, with a grand staircase front and center. It's U-shaped, with a balcony looking down from the second floor. On the other side is a fancy living room, set up with period appropriate furniture and lots of bookshelves. The other living room that I saw through the kitchen is completely modern, and feels almost out of place. There's a small bathroom tucked away near the bas.e.m.e.nt stairs, and a sunroom in the back of the house. It has easels and other art supplies set up, with paint splattered cloths draped over the floor. The smell of paint is strong in here.

"I try to do most of my work at the studio," he says. "But I bring work home with me." He gives me a smile and turns to take me upstairs.

There are three bedrooms and two bathrooms up here. There must have been more bedroom at one point, because the master bathroom is so big I'm sure it used to be an entirely separate room.

"This is my room," Ben says and waves his hand to his side. I peek in. This room is modern and normal too. Well, normal but still impressive. The bed is lazily made and there is a pile of laundry on the window seat, and a few dog toys on the floor. A stack of papers clutters his desk, burying his laptop, and the top drawer of his dresser isn't closed all the way.

This looks more like the Ben I know.

"We'll see more of that later," he adds. "That's a guest room that Harumi has taken over, a bathroom, and another bedroom. And that's it."

"It's huge and really pretty," I say, noticing that the last bedroom's door is closed. If it's just a guest room, he doesn't need to show me it, really. But the other doors are open, so it seems odd ... as well as his "art room" and his bedroom being messy like his office yet the rest of the house is spic-and-span. And I really want to know who took care of his dog when he spent the night at my house last weekend.

"Thanks," he says. "I might be odd to say I see a house like a giant canvas. It can give off feelings just like a work of art."

I can't help but think what kind of feeling does my little condo give off? Shabby-geek? Is that even a thing? If not, it needs to be.

"Hungry?" he asks, turning back to the stairs.

"I pretty much will always answer yes to that," I say with a smile. "Maybe I shouldn't, but I'm not gonna lie."

"I do always answer yes to that," he says and jogs down the stairs. We go back into the kitchen and Ben opens the fridge. "I'm not really a good cook," he says apologetically. "But I'll try my best for you."

"You're sweet," I tease. "And really, I appreciate it. But if you want to order pizza or something I won't hold it against you."

Ben considers. "Pizza does sound good. Extra cheese and pepperoni?"

"And breadsticks?"

"Always breadsticks."

He orders the food and then we go into the modern living room to watch TV. He pulls me into his lap as soon as we sit on the couch. I snuggle close to him, breathing in his cologne and feeling his firm muscles press against me. I'm tempted to kiss him and slip my hand inside his pants, but know the pizza guy will be here soon and we'd have to break up the hanky-panky in a few.

"What do you want to watch?" I ask him.

"I don't really care," he says and leans over to kiss me. "Whatever you want to is fine with me."

I take the remote and flip through the movie channels, finding the second Hobbit movie starting in a few minutes. "Have you seen the first one?" I ask.

"I've seen them all, and all the Lord of the Rings movies," he replies and it takes all I have not to jump his bones right there. "And read the books. The Hobbit was my favorite book as a kid."

I'm smiling and I can't stop. "I loved-still love it too! I got in trouble in the seventh grade for reading it during cla.s.s."

"You really were a rebel in your day," he jokes.

"Oh, the worse. Reading in cla.s.s, sneaking comics into church, and then it all went to h.e.l.l once I got a cell phone and computer. I was a girl on a mission and my mission was trouble."

Ben's laughing, eyes sparkling as he looks at me. "And now?"

"I only use my superpowers for good, remember?"