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It was raining and that’s why he did it.
That’s why he told her, “Just a sec, I have something,” and dug in his trunk for his old jersey from Sophomore year. He knew it was in there, because he never cleaned out his trunk. It’s the messiest part of him. He never used his trunk except to store his baseball bag, so who cares?
Leslie thanked him and turned around, without any regard to the public-ness of the parking lot and took off her shirt. He saw the pink of her bra underneath her damp hair that was starting to stick to her skin. The rain was softer by then, but still dusted her shoulders before she pushed her arms through his jersey and buttoned the front. She pulled her hair out of the collar and shook her head, the blond waves crashing along the shores of his name and number on the back.
When she turned around, he blurted, “I can take you home,” and she thanked him three times before getting in his car.
Leslie Knope was his end game. Ben knew it. There was no one out there like Leslie and there was no reason to play games anymore. For so long, he was still taking out other girls, as if he wasn’t saving himself for her. He stopped doing that after spring break when he said Leslie’s name in the middle of fucking Shauna Malwae-Tweep. It was a casual hook up, it wasn’t like they were dating, but it still was not great and very eye-opening.
Now Leslie was in his car. They were at school late, decorating for prom, and they were carrying in supplies during the heavy downpour. She was shivering as they walked to the parking lot and she mentioned she would just walk home, but he had a dry piece of clothing for her, he had a car he could take her home in.
The thing swallowed her. Both his jersey and his car. The jersey went to her knees, her jeans wet as she rubbed her palms along her thighs. He was blasting the heater, but she was still shivering. He apologized, the car was old and shitty. She shrugged. Leslie was small in the seat, and as they passed JJ’s Diner, she looked out the window and curled her knees up, hugging her legs, putting her palms out flat toward the vent of the heater. She became even smaller then and Ben wanted to wrap her up and protect her from the chill and shitty heating system of his car.
“Would you like to grab a coffee?” she asked, small and tentative, nothing like Leslie Knope.
“Oh yeah, of course.”
He pulled into the parking lot of the Starbucks in town, they were open until nine, and Leslie rushed inside and basked in the actual heat and smells of warm drinks and pastries that his car just couldn’t provide.
“I’ll get it,” she said, after she ordered her double mocha with three pumps of raspberry and extra chocolate sprinkles. “You’re driving.”
Ben got a small coffee and took a sip immediately after receiving the cup, burning his tongue. Leslie looked at a cup on a shelf that was for sale with gold confetti rounding the white ceramic. She looked at the price tag and put it back.
“So, who are you going to prom with?” Ben asked, struke with a sudden gust of bravery. Maybe it was the smell of coffee beans or the overexcited barista who was humming as they made Leslie’s drink.
Leslie shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. It was supposed to be Dave, probably. But.”
Ben nodded. Dave moved away a month ago. He was Leslie’s boyfriend for most of this school year and Ben found himself making fists under the lunch table every time Dave got up to go get something, kissing Leslie’s head before he disappeared. Leslie would smile the cutest, shyest, little smile in the world when he did that. Ben wanted to make her do that. Wanted to make her back arch and smile in the sunshine and ask for his help when she prepared speeches for student government meetings.
He looked at her now, grabbing her drink and immediately taking the top off to dip her finger into the chocolate sprinkle-dotted whipped cream. She licked her finger clean, his jersey so big on her, but somehow accentuating her body anyway. It made no sense, perhaps he just had fantasized about her wearing his baseball jersey before.
Okay, he has definitely fantasized about her wearing his baseball jersey before. The real thing is much better.
She took another glob of whipped cream on two of her fingers and licked them clean before putting the lid back on.
“Ben?”
“Huh? Yeah? Sorry.”
“I just asked who you were taking to prom.”
Ben shook his head. “Oh, yeah.”
He actually didn’t have a date. He asked someone three weeks ago, but he went back on it, deciding if he couldn’t go with Leslie Knope, he wasn’t going with anyone else. Cindy didn’t care, she’s now going with Mark.
Leslie waited, taking a sip of her drink. He wondered if they should just go back to his car or if he should answer her question or if he should just dig himself into a hole because he was only 17 years old but fully in love with someone and it was overwhelming. Girls were one thing, an easy thing for him, but being in love with Leslie Knope was a whole other phenomena.
“No one.”
Leslie’s lip turned up on the right side of her mouth and Ben was definitely salivating now. She tilted her head, eyes narrowing in confusion.
“Really? Are you lying?”
She put her free hand on her hip and he liked how his jersey bunched under her fingers, accentuating her waist. He assured her he wasn’t lying and they shared a silent sip, eyes locked in a challenge.
They left after that, back in his car, back toward Leslie’s house.
He parked in front of her house and she didn’t make a move to leave the car, just sipped at her mocha and bobbed her head a little to the music. This was his moment to ask her, to take everything that fate had thrown at him (mostly the rain) and ask her to prom. He went to prom last year, it was easy to ask a girl then, and it was easy to ask a girl a few weeks ago. But not now.
“I’m thinking,” Leslie said, placing her cup in the cup holder. She unbuckled her seatbelt and turned toward him. “Since we’re not going to prom with anyone, we might as well go together.”
His seatbelt was still on so what happened following this declaration was a little awkward, but still enormously monumental.
Ben turned and leaned forward, grabbing Leslie’s face and pulled her toward him, kissing her. She squeaked under his lips, a small spark igniting between their mouths (static electricity, but Ben would like to imagine something more magical, even if he was usually a pessimist). He pulled away quickly and Leslie reached forward, grabbing the front of his shirt, kissing him again.
They kissed until their lips were raw and swollen. She had undone his seatbelt and he kicked up his heel to pull up the bar under his seat and slide his chair back as she crawled into his lap. He asked if it was okay as his hand went up her shirt, past the buttons on his jersey, and she nodded against his lips. She ground down on his crotch and he held onto her hips to quicken her pace, pressing his tongue against hers, lining her lips before moaning her name.
Kissing Leslie was everything Ben thought it would be and more. It was rainbows and sunshine, but it was also hot lava coursing through his veins and thunder echoing along his skin, making his vision dark and his needs electrified. The rain started again, pounding against the top of his car and it was a nice soundtrack to the sway of her hips and the push of her tongue, like her body was enough to create storms.
She tasted like chocolate and sugar and smelled like rain and the trunk of his car. He gripped onto his jersey and wanted nothing more than to pull it off, but he just held onto it instead. Her fingers raked through his hair and every now and then as her hips moved along his own, she would whimper against his lips. Sometimes, their kisses broke and there was just breaths and moans and Ben couldn’t stop saying her name.
“I should go,” she said, kissing him again. Her hand pushed between them, right along his crotch and Ben sank his teeth into her bottom lip. “Really.”
“Then go,” he said, teasing her, but she just kept kissing him and they didn’t stop.
Until Ben realized the rain had ended. It was probably just a fluke passing of storm clouds, but it made him soften their kisses anyway. Ben left small kisses along her cheeks and chin, down her neck, and he nestled himself in that spot between her neck and shoulder, gently nibbling on the skin there.
“I should go,” Leslie said again. He responded with a swirl of his tongue on her flesh and then he started sucking. “Ben,” she whined, her voice catching in her throat as his tongue rounded the skin again before he bit down, sucking one more time.
It would leave a mark. He wanted it to.
After he was done, he kissed her lips quickly and sat back, their foreheads resting against each other.
“I didn’t want to be one of your girls, Wyatt.”
“What do you mean, one of my girls?”
He knew what she meant.
She rolled her eyes. “Just… one of the girls Ben Wyatt hooks up with.”
“Too late,” he said, smirking.
She pulled back and swatted his arm, trying to climb off of him. He held onto her hips, pushing his own up. She groaned, teasing in her frustration, and rolled her hips before kissing him again.
“I have to go,” she said again. Then, to Ben’s utter amazement, Leslie began unbuttoning his jersey. “You can have this back.”
“No,” Ben said, holding her wrist. “You can keep it.”
“Really?” she asked, skeptical.
“Season’s over, and since you’re my girl now, why not?”
“Your girl?”
Ben’s eyebrows furrowed and he pushed Leslie off of his lap, helping her sit back down in the passenger seat.
“Yeah, so you can keep it.”
He may be trying to buy her affection and commitment with free clothing.
“Okay,” Leslie said, her head tilted and eyebrow raised. “If you say so.”
She didn’t believe him, that much was true, but that was okay, they had time to figure out the logistics of what they were. He was a lovesick puppy and she was a storm of possibilities and inspiration and somehow she was going to be his now, and he hers. Or soon. Either way, Ben was happy. Very, very happy.
Leslie gathered her things and opened the car door and Ben watched her get out of the car and close the door before he leapt out of the car himself. He caught up to her and walked alongside her, his hand at the small of her back as he walked her to the front door.
“You don’t have to walk me to the door,” Leslie said, sliding closer to him.
“Could be dangerous out here. When I first moved here someone told me to watch out for raccoons.”
She giggled and Ben kissed her temple.
They reached her front door and Ben turned to her, slowly bringing his hand up to her cheek to cradle her face in his hand. She leaned into his palm, mumbling that he felt warm.
“See you tomorrow?” Ben asked, pulling her closer. “I can pick you up for school.”
“Okay,” Leslie said, kissing him. “But I like to be early.”
He groaned and she smiled against his lips, his tongue catching teeth.
“Fine.” Ben kissed her one last time and he pulled away, taking a step toward his car just to make sure they would stop touching. “See you tomorrow, then.”
“7:15 at the latest.”
Ben clutched his chest and groaned. Leslie giggled, biting her lower lip.
“You don’t have to,” Leslie assured him, her mouth wide in a smile. “Really.”
“No, I will be here. I’d wake up early for you, Leslie Knope.”
That made her cheeks turn pink and Ben felt like he was floating.
He could’ve told her all the things he would do for her. Perhaps he’d climb mountains or actually study for chemistry. He’d go to the moon and back if she really wanted some dust from the surface or he would block the rain and amplify the sun for her. Anything.
But he didn’t tell her any of that, instead he marched right back up to her front door and kissed her again and hoped she would understand anyway.