Bee lay, her long pink hair a starburst against the dark blue sheets. She loved and hated Ben's waterbed. Ben just hated it. It sloshed about and made awkward sex even more awkward. She’d never asked, but she guessed that his parents must have picked it out, long ago.
Ben sometimes played pirate ship or speedboat. Bee played flotation tank. Sometimes she lay straight as a pencil. Other days, like today, if there was room and she wasn't naked and self-conscious, she lay splayed like a starfish. She listened to the mattress in the dark, willing the sounds of the room to fade.
They were adults. They were too old for pretending. But they did anyway. Sometimes things were just a little too real.
"Hey, Duck." Ben leaned over from where he was putting his pants on and kissed her on the cheek. His hair flopped onto her face and tickled. "You still in there?" She opened her eyes and propped herself up. She was already dressed. "Time to get home, before the evil hour when your mom and Seth can't pretend they didn't know you weren't there."
"Yeah," she sighed. Bee knew they were both lucky to live with their parents, but she cursed it all the same. At least Ben's mom was frequently away—and his dad always away—and he had his big echoey house to himself. Since Ben's brother Matt had died, she'd felt a prickly sensation when in the house. She thought Ben must too, because he seemed shifty there.