Skating Through

by Jennifer Cosgrove

  Ben took a deep breath and pushed through the doors, leaving the safety of the cafeteria behind. Looking around, he blinked in the sudden sunlight until he spotted Rachel sitting on top of one of the picnic tables that were scattered throughout the courtyard. Even though he was glad to see she’d picked one over in the corner, so they’d have a little privacy, he was still nervous as hell about she’d say when they were mostly alone. He dropped his backpack and sat on the bench, clutching his hands together to keep from fidgeting. She looked at him for a few seconds, evaluating, and then sighed heavily.

  “God, you’re a bit of a mess too, aren’t you.” She ran a hand through her hair, dark magenta for the moment, and Ben wondered if she and Marcus shared hair dye. “Look. I’m going to be really blunt here. Marcus is my person—you get that, right? Just like Ryan is yours.” Ben nodded numbly. “You hurt my person.”

  Ben hadn’t thought he could feel any worse, but having Rachel say out loud what he’d been telling himself for the past three days made the tight band around his chest come back. “I know.”

  “You like him.” She stated it like the fact it was. “He likes you too, you know.” She tapped an uneven beat on the wooden table. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that, but watching you two is just freaking painful.” She lowered her voice. “I know you’re not out, and I respect that, but you need to tell him what you want.” Ben jumped when he felt her fingers smoothing back his hair. “Ryan’s your BFF, but if you need someone to talk to, let me know. In fact—” She dug her phone out of her pocket. “—give me your number.”

  Ben did as instructed and felt his own phone buzz in his pocket a few seconds later.

  He felt overwhelmed. It wasn’t right that she was being so kind. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Doing what?”

  “Being nice to me.” Ben closed his eyes when she ruffled his hair before smoothing it back again. He couldn’t help leaning into the touch just a little bit. He’d been so tense and scared about what she was going to say that it was a relief.

  “Because Marcus likes you, and if he likes you then you must be pretty cool.” She hopped down off the table and grabbed her messenger bag. “Also, Ryan highly recommends you.” Ben laughed softly, feeling a little bit better. “Anyway. I’m going to go and deal with my sad puddle of a best friend”—Ben flinched—“and you’re going to promise me that you’re going to at least text him tonight.”

  “I have practice tonight.” She raised an eyebrow, and Ben ducked his head. “I mean, of course.”

  Rachel ruffled his hair again. (He was beginning to wonder if she liked his hair, or if that was just a thing she did.) “It’ll be good for you both. Promise.” She stepped away from him when the bell rang. “Laters?”

  “Sure.” Ben felt vaguely like he’d been hit over the head. What had he just promised to do? He looked at his phone and saw the message from Rachel.

  Rachel: do the thing :)

  Ben snorted and saved her number into his contacts.

  PRACTICE WASN’T A complete shitshow. At least, Ben was pretty sure it wasn’t. Still, he was definitely not at his best. Anxiety about what to do about Marcus had his thoughts circling around how he was going to do what he’d been told. He’d composed the text in his head about a hundred times and was doing it yet again when he realized something else was off.

  He hadn’t noticed anything on the ice during practice, but it was definitely quieter in the locker room as he was getting his gear off. There was none of the usual loud catcalls and general obnoxiousness as they hit the showers. Ben looked around, curious, and caught Smithy giving him a definite side-eye.

  Huh.

  Well, that explained a lot. It had to be because of his outburst yesterday. The thought made his skin crawl. If they were purposefully keeping their distance, what did that mean? Did they wonder about him now, and were just afraid to ask? Well, he wasn’t going to play into their curiosity. He’d done what he should have as a person and as their captain, and that was all that should matter. He could handle the quiet.

  Ben yanked his shirt over his head and stuffed it in his bag. He wasn’t going to allow them to run him out this time without a shower. Ryan was picking him up again and had threatened to leave him there if he didn’t at least make an attempt at rinsing off. He felt eyes on him as he stalked off to the showers, towel around his waist, but did his best to ignore them.

  After he was dressed and had his gear, he left the locker room and tried to push the weirdness out of his head. Maybe he was just being paranoid.

  Ryan was waiting in his usual spot, and Ben smiled at the music coming from the car as he walked toward it. Ryan had gotten sucked into some movie soundtrack and had started listening to seventies rock nonstop. Ben had given Ryan a hard time about it, but it was secretly growing on him. He’d never tell Ryan, though.

  He threw his gear bag and backpack in the backseat and got in. Ryan was still singing even as he was buckling his seatbelt.

  “I’m hooked on a feeling, I’m high on believing, that you’re in love with meeeeee.”

  Ryan put the car in gear, and Ben reluctantly joined in when the chorus started up again. It wasn’t that he was a horrible singer, he just didn’t like to sing in front of people. Ryan had told him on more than one occasion that he wasn’t “people,” so he didn’t count.

  The song ended, and Ryan hit pause on his phone. “You’re in a better mood. Good practice?”

  Ben nodded. “Yeah. Well, better than yesterday.” Ryan made a noise of understanding, and they rode in silence for a few moments before Ben remembered he hadn’t even thought to ask how Ryan’s date went. “Oh god, I’m a horrible friend.”

  “What?”

  “I completely forgot to ask you about your date.”

  Ryan shrugged. “It’s okay. You were busy having a crisis.”

  “Still.” Silence again. “So. How did it go?”

  Ryan barked out a laugh and grinned. “Pretty good. I think we’re going to go out again this weekend.”

  “Awesome.” Ben fiddled with his seatbelt. “She’s pretty great.”

  Ryan smiled dopily. “Yeah, she is.” He winced. “I heard she talked to you.”

  “Gave me orders, more like it.”

  “You gonna do it?”

  Ben snorted. “I’m afraid not to.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Ben looked out the window. “Text him, I guess. Not that I know what to say. I mean, how do you start that kind of conversation? Sorry for being an idiot? Sorry that I’m a giant dork who doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing?” He banged his head against the window. “God, I’m pathetic.”

  “You’re not pathetic.” Ryan was always so matter of fact. “But you are a giant dork.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Seriously, though.” Ryan turned to look at him when they stopped at a red light. “Just start by saying ‘Hey’ or something. Be honest. You’ll do fine.”

  “Says you.”

  “Exactly.”

  IT WAS ALMOST ten o’clock before Ben quit procrastinating and picked up his phone. He typed several versions of Hello before taking Ryan’s advice.

  Ben: Hey

  The three dots popped up immediately. Then went away. Then popped up again. Ben thought he was going to hyperventilate. Whoever invented that feature should be…

  Marcus: hey

  Ben blinked at his screen. Now what? He typed, erased, typed, knowing he was causing the same dots of anxiety on the other end that he’d just experienced.

  Ben: I don’t know what to say.

  Marcus: me either

  Ben sat up against the headboard, drawing his knees up to his chest. He had so much he wanted to say, but had no idea where to start. It would be easier in person so he could tell what Marcus was thinking.

  Ben: I don’t think I can do this through text.

  Marcus: ok

  What did that mean? Ben stared at his phone, willing Marcus to
say something else. After avoiding him for three days, Ben suddenly wanted to see him.

  Ben: Can you meet me somewhere?

  Three dots. Nothing. Three dots.

  Marcus: now?

  Ben: Yeah.

  Ben: If you can.

  Ben got to his feet and paced from the door to his bed and back. What if he said no? He put his phone on top of the dresser and unzipped his backpack. He’d taken Will’s dog tag off for practice, and he suddenly missed the feel of it around his neck. He needed some more of Will’s bravery. After an eternity, the phone vibrated, and he made himself take a breath before looking.

  Marcus: where?

  That was a good question. He shouldn’t have any problem leaving the house, but where could they meet?

  Ben: There’s a park in my neighborhood. Just down a few streets from my house.

  Ben held his breath.

  Marcus: be there in twenty

  Ben looked down at himself and realized pants would be a good thing. Going to the park in boxers and a T-shirt was out of the question. He grabbed his favorite hoodie and a pair of track pants, pulled them on, and grabbed his sneakers to carry down and put on outside. He was fairly certain his parents wouldn’t give him too much crap for leaving the house that late on a school night, but he really didn’t want to get interrogated by Beth. She was ruthless when she thought a secret was being kept from her.

  He heard faint music coming from her room as he crept down the stairs, so he was probably safe from that direction. The television was on in the den—through the kitchen and out the back door would be the best route. Biscuit taking that moment to loudly show his displeasure at an empty food dish—and almost derailing the entire plan—had Ben in silent hysterics.

  “Shhhhh. Fine. Here.” He poured a little bit of dry food in the dish to placate the cat and made his way out the back door.

  The moon was full and the sky clear, so he had no problem getting his shoes on and navigating the backyard to the street under the cover of darkness. He pulled his phone out of his pocket as he walked down the sidewalk, the park already in sight.

  Ben: Tell me I’m not a complete idiot.

  Ryan: not a complete one

  Ben: jackass

  Ryan: what are you doing?

  Ben: Meeting Marcus in the park.

  Ryan: !!!!!!!!!

  Ryan: text me after

  Ben: Fine.

  Ben locked the screen and stuffed the phone back in his pocket. He had ten minutes to kill. He made his way over to the bench and sat on the back of it, feet on the seat. He almost sent a text to Ryan to see if he could meet him there too, but he couldn’t keep using him as a crutch.

  He had no idea what he was going to say to Marcus. Would Marcus be angry, or hurt, or a mixture of both? And how would that make him feel? He put his head in his hands, leaning his elbows on his knees. Ben didn’t think he was a bad person. He tried not to be. But somehow he’d managed to hurt someone he’d come to consider a friend. Someone he’d like to have as more than a friend, if he could figure himself out.

  Marcus had kissed him. Ben ran the tips of his fingers over his bottom lip. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel the gentle pressure of warm, dry lips. What would it be like to have someone like that? He’d never had a girlfriend, not even in elementary or middle school when it had meant nothing more than sitting together at lunch and holding hands while your friends giggled. It had never interested him, and of course, he knew why now.

  Later, he’d had hockey. Ryan had joined the team with him, both of them gangly ten-year-olds still figuring out their skates. Ben had taken to the ice and hockey like he’d been born to it, while Ryan struggled. Ben knew Ryan stuck with it for as long as he did because it was something they could do together, but he hadn’t loved it. Not like Ben did.

  But now Ben was beginning to wonder if he could have hockey and even entertain the thought of having a boyfriend. Boyfriend. Just thinking the word sent a shiver down his spine. What would that be like? He’d seen some of the guys with their girlfriends after a game, all smiles and sneaking kisses. Someone wearing their jersey, someone they could point to and say, “Yeah, I’m with them.” It seemed silly, but he thought he’d like that.

  What would his teammates think if Marcus, or someone, showed up in Ben’s jersey, wearing his number? If he kissed him after a game, while still high on a win, or looking for comfort after a loss? The casual slurs that were flung around the locker room were hateful, and he wondered what his teammates would say if they knew that when they used them, they were talking about him.

  Would that be enough to make a difference? It wasn’t like anyone in the pros was out. There were rumors, of course, but that’s all they were. Rumors. There wasn’t anyone he could point to and say, “See? I’m just like him, and he gets paid millions of dollars to play.” There was a reason no one wanted to go first. It would be like painting a giant target on your back for huge guys who smashed people into the boards for a living.

  The distant sound of a motorcycle yanked him out of his musing. He still had no idea what he was going to say, but he was about to find out.

  Chapter Ten

  BEN SCRUBBED HIS clammy palms on his thighs before jumping down from the bench. The motorcycle shut off, and it was so quiet he could hear the ticks of the engine cooling down. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and left the comfortable shelter of the trees behind. It had probably been a mistake to wait at the bench, because he obviously startled Marcus when he walked out of the trees.

  “Shit!” Marcus bobbled the helmet in his hands for a second before hanging it off the handlebars. He gave Ben a tight smile. “You scared me.”

  “Sorry.” You scare me, too. Ben kicked at the ground with the toe of his shoe, unable to look Marcus in the face. “Um.” He heard a big sigh before there was finally a response.

  “Yeah.” Marcus let out a small laugh, if something that sad could be classified as a laugh. Ben looked up, assessing him. Marcus ran a hand through his hair, and it was his turn to look away. “We’re really dramatic, aren’t we.”

  It was Ben’s turn to laugh. “Ryan tells me that all the time.”

  “Same with Rachel.”

  Ben’s lips twitched in a small smile. “She’s terrifying.”

  “God, I know. I wouldn’t even be here if I wasn’t afraid to tell her I didn’t go through with it.” They looked up, and their eyes met for a long moment before they both laughed at how ridiculous they were being. The tension eased a bit, and Ben tilted his head toward the bench under the trees.

  “Want to go sit down?”

  “Sure.”

  Ben led the way but didn’t sit on the bench with Marcus, knowing he’d need to move to get through whatever was coming next.

  “Look, I—” He stopped and growled in frustration. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m a mess. Probably someone you don’t want to have anything to do with.” Marcus acted like he was going to interrupt, but Ben steamrolled over him. If he stopped now, he’d never get it out. At least he could walk home in a few minutes and die a peaceful death. “I’m not out.”

  “I know that.”

  Ben stared at him for a few seconds before continuing. “I don’t know if I want to be out. I don’t know if I can. Especially at school.”

  “Because of the team?”

  “Yeah. How did you—”

  Marcus leaned forward, his hands hanging loosely between his knees. “I might not be involved in sports, but I pay attention. I know how toxic that environment is for guys like us.” Ben blinked at the like us comment but waited for him to keep going. “But you know that more than I ever could.”

  “The guys on my team aren’t that bad. They say stupid shit, but they’re not bad.” Ben willed Marcus to understand what he was saying. “But that’s only my team.”

  “Would they be willing to have your back?”

  “I don’t know.” Ben was tired. All of the things he’d been too scared to think about were bein
g dredged up and put under a microscope. He sat heavily on the bench, on the other end from Marcus, leaving plenty of space between them. He didn’t think either of them were ready to breach that gap just yet. “I won’t know unless—”

  “I get it.” Marcus turned to sit sideways, one leg tucked underneath him. “And, trust me, I’d be the last one to pressure you—”

  “But.”

  Marcus gave him a crooked smile that faded away almost as soon as it appeared. “But if not now or this year, when? You’re going to Boston University next year on a hockey scholarship, right?”

  “Yeah. How do you know that?” Ben wasn’t sure what to think. “Why do you even care?”

  Ben had never seen Marcus angry before, but that was all the expression on his face could be.

  “Why do I care? Because I thought we were friends. Or getting there.” Marcus stood and paced back and forth, hands flashing as he talked. “I screwed that up, and I’m sorry for that. But—”

  “What?” Ben interrupted.

  “What what?”

  “You screwed it up?” Ben was beginning to think he was having a hallucination or something. Marcus’s face was clearly visible in the moonlight, and Ben could swear he was blushing.

  “I—I kissed you.” Marcus continued before Ben could say anything. “And it wasn’t what you wanted or what you were ready for or—”

  “I kissed you back.” Ben couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Marcus thought he messed everything up? “But then I pushed you away. Rachel said—”

  “Rachel is really overprotective. Even when I don’t need her to be. And sometimes she takes my side even when I think she shouldn’t.” Marcus stopped pacing and turned to look at Ben. “I thought you were mad at me.”

  It was a toss-up as to whether Ben was going to laugh or cry. “I thought you were mad at me.” Marcus stepped closer, and Ben itched to touch him but still wasn’t sure if he should. “We are friends.” He could feel his face heat, but he was going to get it out there. “And I really like you. I have for—” He stopped. He wasn’t about to tell Marcus he’d had a crush on him for years. That was too much.