Copyright Lexi Ander
Part Three
"Look, I know what
you… it's not what you think. If you give me a chance to explain, it's not all
that bad. Really. We were going to… we needed time to… you were so… this can be
worked out. Don't walk away right now. Come back and let's talk." Sam
shoved his sandy-colored hair out of his face in frustration. Worry was stamped
on his features as his lips trembled and his eyes turned liquid with unshed
tears.
A bitter laugh escaped Ben
and his vision clouded for a second with a watery haze. Sam stared at Ben with
regret and hurt. It was an expression that always called to the protectiveness
in Ben. Sam was like a brother to him, and in the past, he would've come to Sam's
defense. Now it was the countenance of a man who'd taken something precious
from him. He stepped forward and pushed Sam out of the elevator car, calmly
stepped back and flipped off his stunned best—former best friend.
"I believe,"
the biker said, "that was a big fuck you." He leaned forward and
pressed the 'close door' button before Sam responded.
"The name's Dawson
Green." The biker took back his helmet, giving the attached glitter a
raised eyebrow.
"Ben Hamilton."
He crossed his arms over his chest, feeling completely naked again.
"Nice to meet you,
Ben. Where you off to?" Dawson's voice was deep and calm.
What a good question
because he didn't have a clue. He couldn't go to the house or his parents'. His
sister's place was out of the question because he didn't have the energy to
keep her from killing someone. Annie would have questions he didn't have
answers to. Up until ten minutes ago, he thought he knew the course of his
life, and that delusion had been shattered.
"I'm not sure,"
he replied.
"Well, I know you
don't know me from Adam, but if you wanted to get away for a couple of days, I
could drop you off at my cabin. It's about forty miles outside the city limits.
Your call."
Ben knew he should
decline. Dawson could be an axe murderer for all he knew. With how he currently felt, he wouldn't fight back if someone tried to kill
him. Ben regarded the man next to him. Dawson had chin-length, slightly wavy,
dark brown hair and stunning blue eyes, a bold, straight nose, and full, plump
lips. He'd noticed the biker had a couple of tattoos before they were covered
up with the jacket. But Dawson's eyes—they were nice. He kept returning to and
gazing into them. Dawson's stare didn't make him feel uncomfortable or awkward.
There wasn't any judgment or pity, but warmth and the hint of possibly a new
friendship. He had a feeling he'd need some new friends in the very near
future.
Socially, Dawson was the
exact opposite of Ben. Someone he wouldn't normally spend time with, and Ben
wondered if that had been the problem. He came from money, went to expensive
and prestigious schools. His friends were from families who associated with his
parents. He had a preset social circle from birth and he'd never thought to
venture outside of it. He had no reason to, until now. Maybe it was time to
make a few changes, redefine a couple of things about himself and reset the
course of his life. He'd do something unexpected and break out of the mold that
up until now had defined him.
Contemplating on accepting
help from a complete stranger was not a sane action. But the numbing ache in
his chest and the burn in the back of his eyes reminded him that, at that
moment, strangers were safer than the people he knew.
"I'd like to take
you up on that offer, Dawson. I can pay for the…"
"No man, not
necessary." Dawson waved off the offer.
"You can't mean to
let me stay for free." Ben eyed Dawson with a little bit of suspicion.
"No, I had hoped you'd
be willing to help me clear some of the property. It's a heavy duty job and I
need an extra hand. I'd thought to handle the work myself, even though it would
take longer, but you seem like you'd enjoy the distraction."
Ben agreed he needed a
diversion. He wasn't out of shape and occasionally did some of his own
landscaping. He didn't believe Dawson meant him harm, but then again he hadn't
thought Javier was a lying-cheating-rat-bastard either. New pain bloomed in his
chest as he remembered the fuck-fest. He needed to get away and he didn't care
where. He'd call Annie and let her know where he would be and leave it at that.
He'd trade a bed for manual labor for a couple of days and decide what he
wanted to do next.
Ben pulled in a couple of
calming breaths and glanced at Dawson. "I appreciate your offer and I'd
love to help you out."
Ben watched Dawson
hesitantly reach up and gently brush at an escaped tear on Ben's cheek. The
elevator dinged, announcing their arrival on the ground floor and the biker
withdrew his hand.
Clearing his throat, Ben
asked, "Can you wait a second? I need to get my bag from the concierge's
desk."
Ben ignored the stares
and derisive sniggers as he approached the front desk. He pulled his ID out of
this boy shorts and waited for his small duffle. Inside were his wallet, phone,
and a change of clothes. As soon as he could get out of the silver-sequined
outfit, he would burn it.
He followed Dawson out to the parking garage, and
they walked to the far corner, to the largest motorcycle Ben had ever seen. The
bike was massive with a red, fire-breathing dragon painted on the gas tank. Ben
pulled his clothing out of the bag then quickly drew on his blue jeans over the
ridiculous boy shorts, and added a long sleeved T-shirt. He barely kept from
chucking the go-go boots across the garage, opting instead to shove them rather
forcefully into the public trash can.
Thank you for stopping by and reading!!
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