Free Other Side of Beautiful (A Beautifully Disturbed #1) by Sarah Zolton Arthur Page B

small, raised platform, most likely covering up an old radiator and perfect for setting our stuff down on, so long as we stay close.
    Kel peels off the coat, tossing it back to Benton to hold. With all the body heat already pressing in against us, he folds it, laying the coat on the radiator platform. She is definitely in her element, putting on a show for Benton and the other men ogling her. Hands in her hair, she sways her hips seductively to the overhead music. At one point she turns around, grinding her butt against Benton’s thigh. When he smiles and shakes his head, I imagine like he can’t believe his luck, and I have to get away from them just to clear my head enough so that my raging green-eyed monster doesn’t ruin the weekend for all of us.
    “I’m heading for the bar before the show starts,” I tell them. “Beer?” Kelly smiles at me, still playing her part. I don’t know if Benton’s still watching Kel, but he doesn’t answer me, so I leave for the opposite side of the room, pushing through the tightly woven mass of the drunk and drunker. Somebody must have been Pop Fest tailgating.
    “Dinninger, wait up.” I turn around. He’s following close behind me.
    Having Benton here actually turns out to be helpful. The man stands several inches taller than most of the dude-brahs hanging around the bar hoping to get lucky in the bathroom during the show. And his good looks stand out to everybody with a working set of eyes. Including the bartenders, one of which slips him a piece of paper with her number on it as she slides him our beers.
    As the overhead music stops, signaling that the first act will take the stage soon, the people go out of their minds. The squeezing masses pinch us closer and closer together from all sides. When the first chords reverberate through the amplifiers, the crowd goes absolutely freaking nuts. And the bar clears out as they push forward to get closer to the stage. They can have all of it. I just want to enjoy the show tonight, bobbing my head to the music. Most of the background chatter comes as screams rising above the chaotic thumping rhythm. Benton, who stands behind me, bends down to talk directly into my ear.

 
    Chapter 11
     

Elle
     
    He says, “I want you to call me Ben,” right as some drunkard sways past us, pushing my bottom against his groin. Benton grunts softly and I step away, but he grips the back of my shirt, pulling me back to the spot where we were touching. I have no idea what’s going on but continue with our conversation, because being clueless and admitting to being clueless are two very different things. Fake it until you make it, right? Anyway, he just asked me to call him Ben. That’s grounds for serious wigging out if any situation ever called for it.
    I mean, Ben? “I’ve only ever heard Collin call you that.”
    “He’s the only other one. It’s special reserve, I guess.” Special reserve? Did he honestly say special reserve? I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to figure out exactly what is happening between us. Suddenly his words click. The closeness of our bodies becomes unbearable as our conversations over the past few months come to mind, and his breath dances delicately against my skin, ruffling the fine hairs on my neck. His lips brush against my earlobe when he talks. He definitely said special reserve.
    One of his hands rests on my shoulder, with the other he spins me around, brushing slowly down the length of my arm to take my hand, braiding our fingers together. “Why—why am I special?” I crunch down on a piece of ice from my glass to distract myself.
    “Do I really need to answer?” Some kind of answer would help. Yes. Because I haven’t been special in years. Cricket loves to remind me. She lives to remind me how not special I am.
    “What about Kelly?”
    “What about her?” he asks, now brushing the fingers of his other hand along my cheek. Perspiration from the glass in that hand drips down, dampening the cotton of my