“For what?” Marcus would pick up on that, of course.
Ben studied his hands. He couldn’t look at him.
“For a long time.” Ben’s face was on fire. “God, this is embarrassing.”
He stared at Marcus’s boots when he stepped closer, almost between his knees. A gentle hand came to rest on his head, and Ben closed his eyes as fingers stroked through his hair. He was afraid to move. If he moved, Marcus might stop. He didn’t want him to stop.
“Hey.”
Ben made himself look up and into Marcus’s face. Marcus’s fingers were at the nape of his neck, still softly moving through the short hair there. The gentleness was almost overwhelming, and he swallowed hard, trying to keep the stupid tears down. He didn’t want to cry in front of Marcus. He didn’t want to appear weak.
That thought, not wanting to appear weak, crashed through his head. It was what he’d been taught his entire life. Or at least while he was on the ice, which seemed to be one in the same. Man up. There are no tears in hockey. Skate through it. Gritting his teeth and playing through with a fractured finger, blinking back tears of pain the entire time. It was what he was supposed to do. He looked up at Marcus helplessly, not sure what to do with such an epiphany.
“Jesus, come here.” Marcus pulled him forward, and Ben automatically wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing his face to his chest. Marcus’s arms were around his shoulders. “Come on. It’s okay.” Ben shook his head, gripping tighter, his hands sliding up Marcus’s back under his jacket.
Marcus made an abortive move, like he was uncertain what to do, and then Ben heard him mutter, “Oh, fuck it,” and he was kneeling in front of Ben in the leaves and the dirt and pulling Ben even closer to him.
Ben let him, burying his face in Marcus’s shoulder. It wasn’t fair. He took a deep breath and said it out loud, hoping he didn’t sound like a pouting little kid.
“It’s not fair.”
Marcus leaned his head against Ben’s. “No. It’s not.”
Ben let out a shaky breath and pulled back a little. They were so close together, their faces just inches apart. This time, Ben took the initiative and leaned in for a kiss. Marcus drew in a sharp breath through his nose in surprise, and for a second, Ben thought he’d made yet another mistake. He broke off to apologize, and Marcus surged forward, kissing him back, hard. In one blink to the next, Ben had his hands in Marcus’s hair. Warm fingers snuck under the hem of his hoodie, brushing against his bare skin. For a split second, he thought Marcus was going to climb right into his lap, and if that happened, he might have died.
He pulled back, breathing hard, his hands on Marcus’s shoulders. A car horn blew somewhere in the distance, and they looked at each other, wide-eyed. They were in a park, barely hidden under the cover of the trees, and he’d been ready to— What? He wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted, but it involved pulling Marcus so close there’d be nothing between them.
He slid away until he hit backrest of the bench. “Um.”
Marcus sat down beside him, looking equally shocked. “Yeah.”
Ben reached over tentatively and took Marcus’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “I don’t know what to do.”
Marcus squeezed his fingers. “I really like you.”
“For how long?” Ben blurted out the question before he thought about it.
Marcus huffed out a laugh. “For a while.”
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Ben tried not to sound like he was blaming Marcus for not speaking up either, but now he needed to know.
“Well, I—” Marcus looked down before meeting Ben’s eyes again. “—I was dating someone for a while—”
“I know.” Ben flushed when he said it, but it was true.
Instead of a grin, there was that sigh again. “God, I really like you.”
“But?”
Marcus turned to look at him then, a sad smile on his face. “I would never guilt you or pressure you. You’re ready when you’re ready.” He looked down at their joined hands. “But I won’t be a secret.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to do that.” Ben wondered, as he said the words, if that was a lie. It sounded so simple. Say the words. Put them out there for the world to know. It was anything but simple. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Anything.”
“What was it like? Telling your parents?”
Marcus’s eyes were on him, and he squeezed Ben’s hand. He leaned back, settling beside Ben. They fit so well together, it made Ben’s chest tight.
“It was fine, I guess. I mean, I told my mom first because I thought she’d understand. I mean, you know I’ve dated girls. I like girls.” Ben ran his thumb over the back of Marcus’s hand. “But, obviously—” Marcus laughed quietly. “—I like boys too. So, when I realized I liked boys, I told her.”
“Just like that?”
Marcus shook his head. “No. I was so nervous. I mean, you think you know someone and how they’re going to react, but you never really do for sure. Rachel offered to hold my hand, but I had to do it myself, you know?”
“So how did you do it?” Ben hesitated. “I mean, if you want to—”
“No, it’s fine. You should know.” Marcus was looking at him again, and Ben couldn’t meet his eyes, afraid he might find hope there. He wasn’t ready. There was no way. But he was ready to think about what it might be like. “I told her over dinner one night, when Dad was out of town for work. It wasn’t long after Rachel and I broke up, and—”
“Wait. You and Rachel?”
“Yeah. For about a month. We’re way better as friends.” Marcus leaned his head on Ben’s shoulder. “Anyway, so we’re sitting at dinner, and I just kind of blurted it out.” He shrugged. “I said, ‘Hey, Mom. I like boys, too.’”
“What did she say?”
“She put down her fork, and I thought, ‘Here it comes. She’s going to completely freak out.’ But she didn’t. She asked me what I meant, and I told her that I was bi. She took it pretty well. Asked me if I liked anyone in particular, and we talked about it.”
“Did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Like anyone. At the time.” Ben could see the faint blush on Marcus’s face in the dim light. “You did. Who?”
“How do you think I got into hockey?” Ben turned to him, mouth open in shock, and Marcus threw his head back and laughed. “I’m kidding.” He nudged Ben in the side with his elbow. “Well, kind of. I did go to some of your home games last year. I thought Rachel was going to kill me.”
Ben didn’t know what to say to that. So, of course, he said the first mortifying thing that came to mind. “I’ve had a crush on you since freshman year.”
Marcus covered his face with the hand that wasn’t still holding Ben’s. “Oh my god.” His shoulders shook with laughter. “You’re freaking adorable.”
Adorable? No one had ever called him that before.
“No, I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are.” Marcus sounded more serious now. “Which is what makes this so much harder.” He let go of Ben’s hand and stood up. “I’ve got to go.”
Ben felt a desperate impulse to grab on to him again and keep him from leaving. To keep talking to him. “Are we still friends?”
Marcus took a few steps away and put his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Of course we are.” He tilted his head toward where he’d parked his motorcycle. “Walk with me.”
Ben got up and followed him, the two of them staying a few feet apart as if by silent agreement. “What did your dad say?”
Marcus turned around and walked backward for a few paces. “He took me to Pride last year.”
“So, he was cool with it?”
“Yeah. He was.” Marcus turned back around and they made their way to the parking area. They stood next to his motorcycle, and Marcus reached for his helmet, but stopped. He took two steps, and Ben found himself wrapped in a fierce hug. They held on to each other in the parking lot for longer than they pr
obably should have, until Marcus pulled away. He held on to Ben’s arms and then darted forward to press one last chaste kiss to his lips. “I’ll talk to you later?”
“Yeah. Text me when you get home?” Ben winced. He hadn’t meant to say that. It made him sound like his mom.
Marcus chuckled as he buckled on his helmet. “Sure thing.”
Ben stepped back as he cranked the bike and then rolled it back far enough to make the turn out of the parking lot.
“Bye, Ben.”
Ben raised his hand in return and watched until the sound of the engine faded in the distance.
It wasn’t fair. There were a lot of things that weren’t fair.
SNEAKING BACK IN was much harder than sneaking out. Ben didn’t understand why people actually liked to do stuff like that; it was way too stressful. He’d left the back door unlocked when he left, but now someone had locked it, probably his parents before they went to bed. He crept around to the front door and tried the knob. Also locked.
A light flicked on in the kitchen, and there was no way around it. He tapped lightly on the door, not wanting to wake the entire house up with his stupidity. He tapped again. Ben heard a shuffling behind the door and stepped back just in time for Beth to yank it open, a hockey stick clutched in her hands. She poked him with it, and he smacked it away.
“Ow!”
“What the hell are you doing?” She poked at him again, and this time he took it away from her.
He pushed past her and leaned it next to the door. She must have gotten it from just inside the door to the garage. It was one of his old sticks, but it still hurt when it was applied to his ribs.
“I could say the same thing. Were you going to check a robber to death?”
“No, dumbass. I was going to beat him over the head with it.” Beth walked back to the kitchen, Ben trailing behind her. “You’re lucky I was the one down here.” She shrugged. “Not like they’d ever expect you to sneak out though. What were you doing?” Beth waggled her eyebrows at him. “Meeting a girl?”
He should have let her stab him through with that damn stick, because that’s what her words felt like. His voice was strangled when he answered. “No. Just went for a walk and forgot my keys.”
“Whatever.” She went back to spreading peanut butter on toast, her go-to late night snack. Ben snagged the piece she already had on the plate, and she brandished the butter knife at him. “Seriously?”
He grinned at her, his mouth full.
“Ugh. Go put another two pieces in. That way you can have your own.” Ben brushed the crumbs off his fingers and did as he was told. He hopped up on the counter to wait for the toaster to pop, and Beth leaned on the other side of him. “So, really. Where were you?”
“Told you. Went for a walk.”
Beth made a skeptical face at him and took a bite of her toast. Ben hopped down and got them both a glass of milk. For once, he was grateful for peanut butter: it made it harder for Beth to question him. The toast popped, and he put peanut butter on both slices, handing one to his sister. He took a big bite of the other one and grabbed his glass of milk.
“I’m going to bed. Thanks for the snack.”
She made a face when he talked through his mouthful, and he took the opportunity to get the hell out of there before she asked any more questions.
He had a lot to think about.
“SO, YOU NEVER texted me last night.” Ryan’s voice was overly careful, and for some reason that struck Ben the wrong way.
“Cut it out.”
Ben knew he was being unreasonable, but he was tired and cranky. He’d been up half the night, even after Marcus had texted him, letting him know he’d gotten home safely. At least it was a rest day, which meant no practice and no heavy gear bag to lug around. He’d already skipped his morning run because he slept through his alarm, so the day was off to a rough start.
“And someone is cranky this morning.” Ryan glanced at him as he drove. “That bad?”
“No.” Ben thought for a second. “Yes.” He scrubbed a hand over his face in frustration. “Shit. I don’t know.”
“You want to talk about it? We’ve got time—we could get Starbucks. My treat.” Ryan’s voice was still cautious, but Ben knew he wouldn’t give up easily. Might as well spill it and get it over with.
He slumped in his seat. “Sure.”
“Okay, that was way too easy.” Ryan clicked on the blinker to make the turn that would take them to coffee. “Now I’m really worried.”
Ben bristled. “What, Rachel didn’t give you a full report?” It was playing dirty, and he felt bad as soon as he said it. “Sorry.”
“I’m going to let that slide because I love you.” Ryan didn’t look at him, which made Ben feel worse. “Come on, dude. Talk.”
“Okay, fine. God.” Ben wanted to bang his head against the window. Maybe saying it all out loud would help. “So I talked to Marcus last night. He met me at the park.” Ryan made a noise of approval. “We figured it would be easier to talk face-to-face, you know?” Ben flipped his phone over and over in his hands, just for something to do. “He’s not mad. In fact, he thought I was mad at him.”
“Really?”
“Evidently Rachel is a little ‘overprotective’.” Ben made quotes with his fingers. “Sounds like someone else I know.”
“Yeah, yeah. Go on.”
Ben twisted his fingers in his lap and looked down at his hands. “He likes me, too.”
Ryan gave him a big smile. “Awesome!” His smile faded. “It is awesome, right?”
“You’re going to miss the turn.”
“Shit!” Ryan pulled in, and Ben waited until he’d placed their order before speaking again.
“We talked about some stuff, and now—” Ben hesitated. “—I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing or not.”
Ryan looked at him for a few seconds before saying anything. “What do you mean?”
“What do you think Mom and Dad would say?” They’d flirted with this conversation before, Ben always talking around the edges, and Ryan waiting for him to say it out loud. “And Beth?”
Of course, that was when Ryan had to pay for their drinks. He wordlessly handed Ben’s over and waited until they were back on the road before answering. “You want my opinion?”
“Yeah.”
“They love you. And they would want you to be happy. All of them.” Ryan eyed him skeptically. “Are you doing this for him?”
“No!” Ryan turned to glare at him. “Well, not all of it. He got me thinking about some stuff and—”
“Did you make out with him again? You did, didn’t you.”
Ben took a sip of his coffee. It was too hot and burned his tongue, but it bought him some time.
He took a deep breath. “I only want what everyone else has. I mean, it’s not—” He stopped himself from saying that again.
“It’s not fair.” Ryan nodded, turning into the school parking lot. “It’s so far beyond not fair.” He parked and turned to look at Ben, face serious. “You know, whatever you decide, I’m right there with you every step of the way, right?”
“Yeah.” Ben smiled. Rachel definitely didn’t have the monopoly on overprotective. “I know.”
“And—” Ryan reached over and squeezed his shoulder. “—just because you tell your family, it doesn’t mean everyone automatically gets to know that information about you. It’s no one’s business but yours. You have complete control of this. You know Mom and Dad and Bethy would respect that.” His hand tightened on Ben’s shoulder again before letting go. “You don’t have to tell the team, not until you want to.”
“But I’d eventually have to.”
“Probably.” Ryan shrugged. “Especially if you’re going to be playing in college.”
“God, the season hasn’t even started yet. Am I crazy?”
“A little, but not because of all this. Think about it some more, okay?”
Ben nodded, and they got out of the car by unspo
ken agreement, done with serious conversations for the moment. He looked at Ryan over the top of the car and smirked at him. “So, when are you going out with Rachel again?”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “This weekend. Maybe. If she says yes.”
Ben shrugged his backpack onto his shoulders. “She’ll say yes.”
Chapter Eleven
THE REST OF the week was much better. It was a relief to be talking to Marcus again, even though Ben was no closer to figuring out what he wanted to do than he’d been before. He had to let it go for now. Their first game of the season, an away game, was the next Friday, and Ben had to get his head in the game. Huge life decisions would have to wait until the weekend after.
He was ready as far as practice went. He knew his job, and he knew what to expect from his line and his teammates. They had a pretty good chance of winning, judging from how the other team had done the year before.
On Friday, Ben found himself sitting in a stall in an unfamiliar locker room, taping his stick methodically. The movement was soothing to his whirring brain. Should he or shouldn’t he? Tell or don’t? Come out or not?
He felt like flipping a coin. It probably wasn’t the smartest way to make a decision like that, but it had to be easier than driving himself crazy. He put his stick down across his knees and leaned back against the locker. He looked around at everyone doing their own pregame thing, listening to music or whatever Smithy was doing, wearing just his under layers and his helmet. They were all getting ready.
Ben could feel the pressure building inside the locker room as game time approached, slow but inevitable as everyone got dialed in. He needed something to give him a push, something tangible to decide for him. What if they won? If they won, he could ride that energy and talk to his parents, or maybe start with Beth.
The ever-present knot in his stomach eased. It was a stupid way to decide something so important, but it made him feel better.
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