by M. J. O'Shea
It’s just a year. Quit being so melodramatic.
Ben was weirdly nervous driving over to Jeremy’s house. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t done a hundred times. The only people there were going to be his friends, the ones who’d encouraged him to keep applying, the people he was going to miss. He’d already said good-bye to his mom, didn’t want to get all misty in front of everyone else. It just felt final. And like they’d all be watching him, waiting for him to be a huge success or something. Ben tested himself, tried to concentrate on how he was feeling. Yes. Nervous. But he wasn’t excited. Not yet. Maybe the excitement would kick in as soon as he was actually there, working with kids, learning more himself, doing things he’d barely fantasized were possible. That’s when he’d get excited. That’s when it would happen. He hoped.
JEREMY’S BACK deck was festooned with Chinese lanterns and twinkly lights. Delia had decorated their table with a huge bright tablecloth and lots of candles and drinks, chips and salsa, silly streamers and fun paper plates. Pinky was there, and Jessa and Fen and Jeremy and… Rory? Ben’s stomach dropped. He was pretty sure he’d told Fen not to invite Rory.
Shit.
He was gonna have to pretend like everything was okay, act like it was no big deal that Rory and his gorgeous hair and perfect body and infuriating face were lounging right there just a few feet away and Ben couldn’t freaking have him.
“Hey,” Rory said, his voice soft.
Ben smiled stiffly and forced a halfhearted wave. He didn’t know what to do. It was nearly as weird and awkward as things had been back in September, but instead, it was Rory who looked at him apologetically and Ben who could barely stand to look at all. As soon as he could, he made an escape inside where Fen and Delia were getting the last of the barbecue fixings ready.
“Why’s Rory here?” Ben whispered angrily to Fen once he had him cornered alone in the kitchen.
“What are you talking about, dude?” Fen made a face. “Like I wasn’t going to invite him.”
“I told you not to.” Ben poked Fen in the chest. “I can’t see him right now. Not tonight.”
Fen shook his head. “Well, obviously tomorrow’s not an option. You two love each other. Whatever is wrong will get fixed, and you’re gonna wish you said good-bye when you still could.”
The word “love” had Ben cringing. Yeah, Rory loved him. Just not the way he wanted. He didn’t correct Fen, though. Just the thought of saying it out loud, of telling Fen what had happened was humiliating. Ben could imagine it: “Yeah, I told Rory I was in love with him, and he still doesn’t want me.” No, thanks.
Ben sighed and shook his head. “You don’t understand,” he muttered.
“Don’t underestimate me, man. I see a lot of things.” Fen reached out and laid a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Go sit down and eat dinner. I’m sure whatever happened with you guys will feel a lot different in a couple of months. Rory’s worried that you guys will lose each other again. Just… be his friend.”
Just be his friend. Fuck.
“Fine.”
DINNER WAS long, and as much as he laughed and smiled with his friends, it was sad too. Ben sat around the big table and looked at faces he wasn’t going to see for months, some of them not until he got back. Pinky and her sarcastic smirk, Jessa whom he didn’t see much out of school but would still miss. Fen, Jeremy… Rory. Rory, who’d managed to sit right at Ben’s side, Rory, whose warmth seeped into his pores and settled there. Ben’s mind told him to scoot away, but his body wanted to be closer still. He wanted to reach out and hold Rory, touch and kiss and never let go. He’d had the right to do all those things before he’d opened his mouth and spilled his stupid heart out. He wasn’t going to do those things when he got back. Friends only. No blurred lines. Even then, he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to protect his heart.
After dinner, Ben helped Jeremy and Delia stack plates into the dishwasher. He put off going outside with the rest of the group. Ben wasn’t looking forward to the good-byes, hugs, and promises to keep in touch. If only everything could be casual and see ya later. No tears, no hugging. No good-bye.
When it was time for him to leave, Ben did the hugs, claps on the back, and hastily hidden tears from Pinky, until the last person left was Rory. He wanted to hug him so badly, slide his hands under Rory’s shirt and feel his skin. Ben was afraid if he even touched him, that’s what he’d do. Cave under the pressure of how much he wanted to breathe him in and hold on forever. Rory reached out, though, and wrapped his arms around Ben, pulling him in tight. Everyone else seemed to have found somewhere to go, the kitchen, back out to the patio.
“Ben,” Rory whispered. He lifted his hand and ran it through Ben’s hair.
“Ro. Please.” Ben felt like he was going to cry. He never cried. “Please don’t.”
Ben pulled away and closed his eyes. Then he turned for the door. He had to get the hell out of there. “Bye, everyone!” he called. “I’ll see ya soon!”
He didn’t look back. Looking back would be the worst sort of suicide. Instead, he went through the door and shut it behind him. Just get in your car and go. That was the only way he’d survive. He walked, head down, blinking, to his car and slid into the driver’s side. His car was all packed; his mom had a key. He’d planned to go home and get a good night’s sleep before starting his drive south.
Instead of home, Ben drove straight to the highway. It wasn’t like he was going to sleep anyway. There was no point in delaying the inevitable.
Chapter Thirteen
BEN’S APARTMENT in LA was tiny and hot. He’d subleased it at the last second, and it was only a five-minute walk from the gallery and the art studio where he’d just started teaching summer classes three days before. He flopped down on the lumpy bed where he’d not gotten a single decent night’s sleep and stared at the ceiling. There was a weird stain in the corner, and it almost seemed like he could see the heat wafting off the lazily whirring blades of his ceiling fan.
He hadn’t really expected to be happy in LA. Ben hadn’t felt anything close to happiness since the night he’d walked out of Rory’s apartment back in May. So, no. He didn’t think he’d be what you’d call happy, exactly. He didn’t think he’d be quite as miserable as he was. He missed it. Constantly. He missed his loft, his mom, and his friends… he missed Rory. Of course. That much of it didn’t really matter. He figured he could be in a new place and miss Rory or miss him just as much at home. They weren’t going to see each other either way.
Ben closed his eyes, tired from a long day teaching workshops, and found himself wishing he were back home. Suddenly, the big dream didn’t seem quite as glamorous as he’d always pictured it when he’d applied in the past. His phone buzzed from his pocket. Ben smiled when he saw the name on the caller ID.
“Hey, Mom. I was going to give you a call later. What’s up?” Ben closed his eyes again and relaxed against his pillow.
“I was just calling to check on you, sweetheart. How are things going?” Ben tried not to sigh out loud, but it was no use. His mom had always been able to read him, even over the phone. “Do you still want to come home?”
“I’ve only been here two weeks, but it feels like a hundred years.”
“Teaching isn’t what you’d hoped?” she asked.
“No, that part is good.” And it was. Ben loved seeing the look on a kid’s face when they made something beautiful. It wasn’t the teaching. “I just miss home.”
“You mean you miss Rory,” his mom said softly.
“No. Well, it’s not just him. I….”
His mom laughed sadly. “Even when you two were little boys, you couldn’t stand to be separated. You’d gotten used to it over the years, but now it’s just like at the beginning.”
Ben remembered the first time, when his whole body felt wrong because Rory wasn’t close. Yeah, it was just like then. But worse because Ben knew how it felt to really touch him, how he moaned when he woke up to Ben’s kisses
on his spine, the way it felt to be surrounded by him, his smell and skin and hair and voice imprinted on all of Ben’s senses. It was so much worse. Every time he thought about it, he got a painful stab to the belly.
“I don’t really want to talk about Rory, Ma. How’s Charles?”
His mother had struck up a conversation with the wine merchant at the grocery store a couple of months back. Ben couldn’t be any happier for her. “He’s wonderful. We’re going on a vineyard tour this weekend.”
Ben smiled. “I’m really glad. Maybe you can bring him when you come down to visit me. I’d like to meet him again.”
“Maybe I will.”
“Hey, listen. I’m exhausted. Is it okay if I talk to you later?” Ben asked. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and remember. He spent most of the day holding his memories at bay, but at night, when he was alone and sleepless and sad, he wrapped himself up in them and realized he would never forget.
“Sure, baby. I’ll talk to you in a couple of days.”
Ben said good-bye to his mother and closed his eyes. He tried to smell Rory in the dusty afternoon heat of his apartment, but of course the smell wasn’t there. Why would it be? It felt all wrong. Everything felt all wrong. He rolled over on his stomach and shoved his face into the pillow. When did he get to feel like himself again? Ever?
A FEW long tiring weeks later, Ben had his first date… well, over the Internet at least.
“This Skype shit is weird” was the first thing out of Fen’s mouth. Ben couldn’t help chuckling. It was the first honest laugh he’d had in weeks. Probably longer.
“You’ll get used to it. How else am I supposed to see your ugly mug? Somebody’s been too busy to come down and visit me.” Fen’s pale Irish skin blushed a ridiculous color of pink. “Yeah, you thought none of us knew, didn’t you? There’s a girl, isn’t there?”
“Not talking about it.”
Jeremy snorted from his chair. “He won’t tell me who it is either, dude.”
“So you are seeing someone?” Ben tried to grin at his friend and tease. He wanted to be happy for him. But there was still that painful twist. He tried to ignore it.
“It’s early days, okay? I’ll tell you all about it when there’s something to tell.”
Ben rolled his eyes good-naturedly and nodded. “Sure thing.”
“Have you talked to Rory?” Jeremy asked abruptly. Fen elbowed him hard.
“I’d rather not talk about Rory if that’s alright with you guys,” Ben said, just like he’d said to his mother. Just the name in his throat hurt.
“He’s not good, man. There’s something off,” Fen told him. He shook his head slowly like he thought there was something that Ben should be doing about it. The sad part was Ben would love to take care of him, hold him and make him as happy as he knew how. But he couldn’t. Rory didn’t want that.
“I… just can’t. Take care of him, okay? It’s not my place anymore.”
Fen shook his head. “It is your place. He’s your best friend. I don’t know what went down with you two this spring, but that shit doesn’t change.”
“Fen. Really. I don’t want to talk about him.” He hadn’t wanted to tell his friends that he’d laid his heart down like a fool and that Rory didn’t want him, so all they knew was that things were weird and Ben and Rory weren’t really talking, and he could tell Fen wanted it fixed already. Things weren’t going to work that way.
Fen nodded reluctantly. He didn’t say another word about it.
They talked about a few more things after that, LA, his job, what Jeremy and Delia were planning to do for their vacation. The tone wasn’t right; things weren’t the same. Ben felt like it was his fault, but he couldn’t let his drama with Rory ruin things with his other best friends. He didn’t want them to feel awkward calling him.
“Hey,” Ben said with a smile, a real one. “I mean it. You two need to come hang out this summer. I’ll take you to the beach, we can see the sights.” He forced himself to smile like he used to, easy and wide. Like everything else, the smile felt wrong. He hoped it didn’t show through.
“We will. Send me your schedule, and I’ll get plane tickets.” Fen looked relieved. Ben knew he didn’t want things to be awkward either. Fen didn’t ask if he should invite Rory. He had to have gotten the picture by then.
“Cool. Hey, listen, I’m going to go grab dinner with a few of my coworkers. I’ll talk to you guys soon?”
Jeremy punched Fen on the arm. “See? He’s cheating on us already. Pretty soon, he’s going to break up with us for his cool new art friends.”
Ben laughed and made a pouty face. “I’ll never break up with you guys. You’re stuck with me for life.”
“Good thing.”
They waved good-bye, and Ben ended the call. He felt better. Not good exactly, not like himself quite yet, but better. Time, he supposed, would have to do its trick. It hadn’t worked very well before, but maybe he’d purged himself a little. Maybe he could get over Rory and actually meet someone who wanted him back. Ben cringed. Yeah. Not there quite yet.
“BENJAMIN, IF you want, you can start laying down your tiles in the frame. I already approved your drawing.” Ben smiled at the little boy, only ten years old, round and sweet-cheeked with cocoa-colored skin and straight black hair that stood up all over the place. He loved that they shared a name and called Ben “Senor Benjamin” even after he’d said that “Ben” was fine.
“Thank you, Senor Benjamin,” he answered, always the polite little guy. He was far younger than most of the students in the class, younger than anyone Ben had ever worked with before, but he was super talented and creative. Ben hoped his parents would keep him in the program for the entire year. It was kids like Benjamin and days where Ben felt like he was really helping his classes realize their potential that kept him from running home with his tail tucked between his legs.
When the day was over and his kids trailed out of the hot workshop with their projects, grins huge and eyes wide with excitement, Ben felt good. He felt like he’d really done something to make a difference, and he loved it. But after the kids were gone and he’d gone back to his sad, empty apartment, his thoughts came creeping in. He thought of what Fen had said to him two weeks before about how Rory wasn’t good. Yeah, some of that was Ben’s fault. Okay, most of it was. He’d told Rory about his feelings and then run away when Rory didn’t return them.
Coming to LA hadn’t even been the running away part. He’d done it far before that. He’d done it when he pulled away from Rory, wouldn’t let him talk, wouldn’t try to stay friends. Ben had offered his friendship, and then when things hadn’t gone the way he wanted, he had pulled it back. As usual, Ben felt like an ass. Like everything he’d done was wrong. He picked up his phone before he could change his mind and pulled up Rory’s name. He pressed the call button with a shaky thumb. The phone rang a few times until Rory’s message picked up. Ben was disappointed but still somehow relieved.
“Hey, Ro. It’s Ben. I, uh, hope you’re doing okay. Just calling to check in on you. I miss you,” he whispered, his voice cracking.
Ben hung up his phone before he could do anything else, say anything else that would make him look like an idiot. Too late for that. His humiliation had just come full circle. Rory didn’t want him, and still he couldn’t stay away from his damn emotions. The message was supposed to just be friendly. A casual “what’s up?” Instead, he’d sounded like a lovesick puppy. Ben flopped down on the bed he swore he’d never get used to, squeezed his eyes shut, and hoped he’d just fall the hell to sleep. Maybe a few hours of oblivion might help erase the stupidity of what he’d just done.
Chapter Fourteen
Ben couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so hot. The main floor of the gallery was lovely and bright, air-conditioned and climate-controlled. His office, the tiny hole that he and the others shared, was stifling, sticky, and uncomfortable. Rafe and Selena had headed off for the weekend nearly two hours before. They’d invit
ed Ben to come out for dinner, enchiladas and margaritas, maybe a little bit of dancing. He’d declined. Somehow, it felt weird, making new friends and creating new habits, as if he was replacing Fen and Jeremy. Like he was trying to erase Rory. They’d joked about it when they called, but it felt kind of serious to him.
He didn’t want to replace his life at home. He just wanted to go back. Ben felt like a fool. He was living in one of his dreams, doing something he’d wanted to do for years, but it felt wrong. Every morning, he woke up and wished he were in his bed back at the loft; he wished he could drive a mile to his mom’s house, meet the guys at Beaver’s for a beer. Wished he could roll over and cuddle Rory into his arms. But Rory was gone, and home was a long way away.
Ben sighed and gathered his stuff together. Time to go home. Or at least back to the apartment. He knew, no matter how many months he spent there, it wasn’t going to feel like home. He shut the door to the office and shuffled down the small hallway toward the main gallery. It was his turn to lock up, so he had the main key ring and a messenger bag full of his work stuff. At least he had enough to do to keep him busy until Monday.
“BEN?”
He froze at the sound of his name and looked up.
Impossible.
It was impossible. Totally and completely impossible. But there he was, right where Ben could reach out and touch him, see his face, hear his voice.
“Rory?” Ben’s throat felt like it’d been glued shut. “Why?” he choked out. He dropped his keys on the floor. They echoed painfully in the big, empty space of the gallery. It had to be the message he’d left, the sad little voice saying how much he missed Rory. Embarrassment, hot and sharp, rushed through him. Ben wanted to run to Rory, to grab him and hold him and never let him go, tell him he didn’t care if it wasn’t real, that he’d go back to taking whatever Rory was willing to give. He wanted to escape too, as fast as he could so he didn’t have to deal with hearing it again, that they were friends and nothing else was ever going to come of it. It had to be why Ro—