Skating Through

by Jennifer Cosgrove

  “Good. We’re tired and hungry. Grab a snack if you want. I know you two have plans.” She looked between them. “You’ll be careful, right?”

  Ryan threw an arm around Ben’s neck. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep him out of trouble.” He gave an exaggerated sniff. “Dude, you stink.”

  Ben pushed him away. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m going to go take a shower.” They all walked into the house, and Ryan made a beeline for the kitchen while Ben went to clean up.

  “Wear something besides sweatpants!” Ryan shouted up the stairs after him, and Ben rolled his eyes.

  He got to his room and put the box on his dresser, wondering if he had time to give it a quick look.

  “Workout shorts count as sweatpants!”

  Dammit. Probably not.

  “I’ll wear what I want!” Ben gave the box a last look before grabbing some boxers out of the drawer. He dug a little more and threw a pair of jeans and a soft, worn V-necked tee on the bed. The tee was a bit snug in the shoulders now, but it was a comfortable favorite.

  He could use the comfort; he wasn’t particularly looking forward to the party. There would be a lot of people there who he only kind of knew, and nobody who really knew him, except for Ryan. He’d much rather go see a movie or hang out at home. Ryan was really going to owe him.

  He turned on the water to heat it up and stripped out of his sweaty clothes. The hot water felt good, and he took a minute to let it work on his aching muscles. He’d been careful. It was second nature, taking care with how he moved. He couldn’t afford to hurt himself doing something stupid like helping his Gran move boxes.

  Ben had just finished drying off when he heard his bedroom door open. He pulled on his boxers and went to see what damage Ryan was doing.

  “Nope.” Ryan snatched up the shirt from the bed and started to stuff it back in the drawer.

  Ben made a grab for it. “There’s nothing wrong with it.” He yanked it out of Ryan’s hand and went looking for socks.

  “Come on. At least wear something a little nicer.” Ryan was always giving him a hard time about living in old T-shirts and sweats. “It’s got holes in it, man.”

  “So?” Ben’s voice was muffled as he tugged the shirt over his head. He’d perfected the art of getting dressed around other people a long time ago. The locker room either made you an exhibitionist or very creative. He pulled on his jeans and looked around for the balled up socks he’d tossed on the bed. They hit him on the head, and without looking, he flipped Ryan off.

  “Whatever. Wear what you want.” Ryan sighed dramatically and fell back on the bed as Ben found his worn red Chucks. Ben flicked him on the ear. “Ow!”

  “I thought you were in a hurry.” Ben grinned at him as he rolled off the bed and ducked out the door. They clattered down the stairs, pushing and shoving the entire way.

  “Boys!”

  “Sorry, Mom!” Answering in unison, they waved as they headed out the door. They piled into Ryan’s hatchback, and Ryan backed out of the driveway with a confidence Ben envied. After riding in companionable silence for a few minutes, Ryan gave Ben a look out of the corner of his eye.

  “So, um. About the party.”

  Ben was instantly on alert. He should have known something was up from the whole thing with the shirt. “What about the party?”

  Ryan kept his eyes forward on the road. “Marcus is going to be there.”

  Ben absolutely did not squeak. “What? Why? Why would you do that?”

  “Ben. Benny. We’re going to be seniors. It’s now or never.” Ryan glanced at him again. “You’ve been pining over him for how long now?”

  “I am not pining!” Ben’s voice rose an octave. He took a deep breath. “I’m not—I don’t pine.” He would have punched Ryan in the shoulder if he wasn’t driving. “And who even says that?”

  “Fine. You’ve had this dumb mopey crush on him for years. Happy?” Ryan glared at him. It was an old argument.

  “No!” Ben crossed his arms over his chest and slouched in the car seat. “He doesn’t even know who I am.” He talked louder to drown out Ryan’s response. “And even if he did, it’s not like I could do anything about it.”

  Ryan sighed and pulled into a parking lot. He put the car into park and turned toward him with narrowed eyes. “Why?”

  Ben glared right back. He was getting a little irritated by the whole conversation. “Why what?”

  “Why can’t you do anything about it?”

  “You know why.” Ryan did know why. Ben had started noticing boys when they were younger, but he didn’t understand that what he was feeling was attraction until Marcus walked into his freshman English class. He’d seen Marcus around, had had a kind of nodding acquaintance with him through middle school. They were both Ryan’s friends, after all.

  But on that first day at Westdale High School, it was like someone had flipped a switch. Ben was sure everyone could tell he’d just been hit with a sudden wave of attraction (or lust, or whatever the hell it was), and at the center of it all was a boy with bright-blue hair.

  Marcus had changed his style over the summer. Ben would have never guessed in a million years that skinny jeans and ratty T-shirts would do it for him, but on Marcus they worked. He stood out now, and did it with confidence. That epiphany rattled Ben to the point that he couldn’t concentrate on anything else for the rest of the day. Ryan was still playing hockey with him at that point, and after watching Ben flub pass after pass in that afternoon’s practice, he finally asked him what was going on.

  Ben hadn’t known what to say. Ryan was his best friend in the entire world, and he was afraid that telling him would push him away. Still, though, he somehow managed to stutter out the words, “I think I like boys,” and Ryan just said, “Okay,” like he already knew, and threw his arms around him in a hug.

  Ben’s fourteen-year-old self had been grateful for Ryan’s fourteen-year-old self’s tight hug. It was exactly what he needed at that moment. Ben’s secret hadn’t torn them apart; if anything, it had brought them closer together. Last year, he’d let himself think that maybe that was the year he’d do something, that he’d tell his parents or his team mates. But he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it.

  Ben shook his head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Ryan gave him an incredulous look. “It’s hard enough to get you to come to stuff like this as it is—god knows I’ve tried for years. Would you have if I’d told you?” Ben shrugged, but Ryan had a point. He probably would have made up some lame excuse and stayed home. He sank further into the seat.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Ryan worried about him—worried about what would happen when both of them went off to do whatever they were going to do after graduation. They’d both gotten a little buzzed on a few beers (more like two if he was being honest) at Ben’s family Memorial Day cookout, and Ryan had kind of spilled his guts a little. He just wanted Ben to be happy and have a life outside of hockey. The alternative was Ben shutting part of himself off because the sport he loved wasn’t accepting of who he wanted to date.

  “Don’t be.” Ryan sighed and leaned his head against the window. “I should have told you.” He hesitated a little. “Even though I think he kind of likes you, too.”

  “What?” Ben covered his face with his hands. It was too much to even think about. “Did he say something?”

  “Not really. And before you say anything else, I only just figured it out.” Ryan’s laugh had Ben peeking through his fingers. “But I can tell, you know? And you know that I’d never out you. So talk to him. Okay?”

  “I’ll—” Ben dropped his hands, knowing his face was bright red. “I’ll think about it.”

  “That’s all I’m asking, all right?” Ryan’s grin faded. “You know I’d never push you—”

  Ben snorted. “But?”

  “But I love your dumb ass, and I want you to be happy.” Ryan threw up his hands. “And that is enough feelings for tonight. You okay with going to the party
now? Or—” Ryan hesitated again. “I can take you home since I got you here under false pretenses.”

  “Only you could make that sound like you lured me into a murder van.” Ben shook his head. “Let’s go to the party, asshole.”

  Ryan whooped as they pulled back out of the parking lot.

  Chapter Two

  “WHOSE HOUSE IS this again?” Ben blinked at the size of the place. It was in a nicer part of town and had a big driveway that was already full of cars.

  “Holtsy’s girlfriend’s. Jenny Smithwick.” Ryan found a place to park on the street and turned off the car.

  Ben snapped his fingers. “Oh, Smithy’s house.” Ben should have remembered her name. She was Taylor Smithwick’s sister for crying out loud, and he’d been playing with the huge defenseman for years. And he’d seen her waiting for Holtsy at the locker room door after games.

  Ryan opened the car door, and loud music could be heard coming from the house. “Ready?”

  “If I say no, can we go somewhere else?” Ben was only half kidding, and Ryan gave him an assessing look. He surrendered. “It’s fine.”

  Ryan led the way around to the back of the house where it looked like the majority of the people were gathered. There were lawn chairs placed around the huge backyard, and groups of three or four people were gathered, sitting in them or on the ground. While there weren’t nearly as many as he’d expected, the arrangement would make it a lot harder to find a handy corner to hide in with a soda until it was time to leave.

  A wave of shouted greetings rose around them, and Ryan waved as he walked to the back door of the house, Ben close behind him. It was clear Ryan had been there before and was already familiar with the layout. There was beer and soda inside two coolers next to the door, and chips and other snacks spread out on the counter just inside. Ryan grabbed a beer and tossed a soda to Ben.

  “You don’t mind driving back, do you?”

  “I guess not.” Ben wasn’t thrilled at the prospect, but he still felt bad about their earlier conversation.

  Ryan paused in looking for a bottle opener. “Are you sure?”

  Ben’s struggle with driving was something they’d talked about extensively, and Ben knew Ryan would put the bottle down immediately if he said he wasn’t up for it.

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine. If not, I’ll just make you walk.”

  Ryan laughed and clapped him on the shoulder before wandering back to the crowd. He wasn’t going to hover, which Ben appreciated, though he had the urge to stick by Ryan just so he wouldn’t have to make awkward conversation with anyone.

  Instead, he opened his soda and sipped it slowly, stalling for a few minutes. Finally, he took a deep breath and went back to where the others were hanging out. The music was just as loud, but he shrugged it off and found a chair that was out of the way where he could sit and watch. He didn’t mind people watching; it was people interacting he had a problem with.

  The downside of being known at school, because of the team, was that people had no problem coming up to him and starting a conversation. Everyone acted very familiar, too much so, and it made him uncomfortable. He didn’t mind anyone wanting to say “good game” or talk about a play or whatever, but other types of conversation put him on edge. He’d probably be considered popular if he could relax into these things, but that wasn’t something he was interested in. At least, that’s what he told himself.

  IT’D BEEN OVER an hour, and Ben hadn’t moved from his spot. Every now and then someone said hi and asked when training camp started, but no one stopped to talk for any length of time. He’d been playing a game on his phone for a few minutes when he heard the scrape of a chair next to him. He looked up, and his breath caught in his throat.

  It was Marcus. Of course it was.

  The two of them had never really talked. There’d been nothing more than what Ryan teasingly called Ben’s “longing glances,” but Marcus never seemed to give him a second look.

  The last time he’d interacted with Marcus was over a year ago at Ryan’s sixteenth birthday party. Ryan’s parents paid for a bunch of them to go to an enclosed go-kart track. Ben felt a little out of place, holding back because he didn’t want to chance hurting himself, but he had fun watching the guys race around trying to beat each other’s times. Marcus was also invited, and Ryan had teased Ben like crazy the entire week before, but Ben pretended to laugh it off. When the actual day arrived, he was nervous as hell. At the track, Marcus said exactly five words to him, “You want to go next?” and Ben had frozen, barely able to shake his head, sure that Marcus thought he was an idiot. It had been terrible.

  “Want some company?”

  Marcus was looking at Ben expectantly. His hair was bright red today, still long enough to flop over his dark eyes. His T-shirt looked as worn as Ben’s, emblazoned with a faded comic book character Ben didn’t recognize. Frayed camo cargo shorts and grey hi-tops—Ben realized he’d been silent a few beats too long (and, oh god, staring) and now Marcus’s smile was starting to fade. Ben needed to say something.

  “Sure!” His voice sounded overloud to his own ears, and he winced. “I mean, um, sure. Go ahead.”

  Marcus settled into the chair next to him, and Ben’s stomach did a slow roll. Marcus was sitting next to him. He had no idea what to do and looked around furtively for Ryan, but he was nowhere to be found. Trying not to be obvious, he scrubbed his instantly sweaty palms on his jeans and leaned back in the chair. It gave a creak, and Ben couldn’t help the noise he made, sure the chair was going to dump him on the ground at Marcus’s feet.

  “You okay?” Marcus put out a hand as if to catch him, and Ben planted his feet, steadying himself, convinced he’d spontaneously combust if Marcus actually touched him.

  “Yeah.” Ben hoped the fading light hid his red face. He slouched in mortification and waited for the ground to swallow him whole. A silence settled between them, and Ben couldn’t tell if it was comfortable or not. Why had Marcus come over in the first place?

  Marcus snorted with what sounded like a laugh, and Ben hunched his shoulders, shooting him a glance, trying to figure out what was so funny. “You’re captain, right?”

  “What?” Ben sat up a little straighter, the change in subject making him forget his awkwardness for a moment.

  “Captain? Of the hockey team?”

  Ben blinked at him. “Oh. Um, yeah?”

  “I was just thinking that it would completely ruin our chances this year if our captain gets taken out by a rogue lawn chair.” Marcus grinned at him, and Ben’s stomach flipped again, but this time in a non-nausea inducing way. “Sorry, it’s a horrible joke.”

  Ben laughed despite himself. “No, it’s funny.” He looked over at Marcus, eyes tracing over his profile in the waning sunlight. He wondered what it would be like, if he was brave enough to lean over and touch him. Marcus looked back at him, and Ben took a drink of his soda to cover that he’d been checking him out.

  Marcus sat forward with his elbows on his knees. “So, I—”

  “There you are!” A girl Ben vaguely recognized approached them and gave Marcus an exasperated look. “I turned my back for one second, and you disappeared.” She did a double take when she saw Ben, and then there was the beginning of a sly smile on her face as her eyes darted between him and Marcus. He followed her gaze and was surprised to find a scowl directed at her. She rolled her eyes and poked Marcus in the shoulder. “Scoot back.”

  Marcus rolled his eyes right back before sliding in his chair to give her access to his lap. Ben looked away, uncomfortable in the face of such easy intimacy. Was she his girlfriend? He searched his memory for her name, and was coming up blank when she spoke up again.

  “Ben, right?” She made an odd squeaking noise and batted at Marcus’s hand where he’d poked her in the side. It took Ben a second to realize the question was actually directed at him. “I think we had a class together.”

  It finally clicked why she looked familiar. “Yeah. Um, French, I think.” He h
ad noticed her because her brightly colored hair reminded him of Marcus. That made him feel kind of stupid now. “I’m sorry, I don’t—”

  “Rachel.” She was looking him over in a way that made him want to check and see if he had something on his shirt or face. “We’ve never actually met before. Weird, huh? We’ve gone to school together for years and never even talked to each other.” She squirmed again, and Ben could swear he saw Marcus pinch her.

  Ben blinked at her, not sure what she was getting at. “Yeah, I guess?”

  Rachel went on like he hadn’t said anything. “I mean, everyone knows who you are, right? Nice guy, captain of the hockey team. Hot.”

  “What?” Ben coughed, choking on his drink. Was she flirting with him? While sitting in her boyfriend’s lap? What was happening?

  She started giggling, and Marcus stood up, gently dumping her off his lap. “Sorry. I just remembered that I need to—” He trailed off, grabbing Rachel’s arm and hauling her behind him, still giggling.

  “Bye, Ben! We’ll chat later!” She waved at Ben, and he automatically lifted his hand to wave back. He heard her say, just before they left his sight, “Come on, Marc, don’t be mad.” And then they were gone.

  What the hell? Not only had Marcus purposefully sat down and talked to him but his girlfriend (?) had called Ben hot right in front of him. And what was that? He’d never seen himself as overly attractive. He did work hard as hell to keep himself fit, so he supposed it could be said he had a decent body. But seriously, what?

  Ryan came over at that moment and pulled him out of his thoughts. He plopped down in the chair that Marcus—and then Marcus and Rachel—had been occupying. He had a bottle of water in his hand instead of the expected beer. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I don’t need a babysitter, you know.”

  Ryan snorted at him. “Yeah, I know. I saw Marcus sitting over here and wanted the deets.”

  “Is he dating Rachel?” Ben blurted out. If anyone would know, it’d be Ryan.

  Ryan’s eyebrows rose. “I thought he was gay.”