12. Trey
12
Trey
I ’m midway through my internship, and I can’t believe how fast it’s gone and how much I’ve learned. I knew this was a valuable opportunity, but I had no idea just how priceless it was. The time I spend this summer will inform the rest of my studies and my professional career beyond that. I’m so grateful for the confluence of events that made it possible for me to accept. Some of what I’ve learned has broken my heart, but I knew that could – and would – happen when I chose my subject of study.
I hadn't realized that there would be a fundraiser event for the center during the last week of July. A bulletin circulated with the dress code, date, and duties for those of us who work here, along with a mandate to bring a plus-one.
I’m pretty sure I can spiff up my one suit without a problem, but I don’t know what to do about the plus-one.
My first thought, of course, is to ask Mandy, but when I text her, she informs me that she’ll be out of town, being a bridesmaid for one of her friends. I spend the drive home thinking about who else I can ask, so I don’t realize that I’m coming home right when Ben usually puts dinner on the table. He’s made grilled salmon and asparagus, and it looks like he’s waiting for me to start the salmon.
“I knew you’d be home early tonight, and you haven’t been eating much,” he says, almost apologetically.
“Do you want to be my date to a work fundraiser?” I blurt out, heart pounding as I hear what I just said. Where had that come from? The drive home had given me a list in my head of acquaintances I was going to ask, but I guess my mouth had other ideas.
Ben stops and stares at me for a second with a comically surprised expression. I can almost see the buffering wheel spinning as he switches gears from salmon to dates. I’m about to reel it back in and tell him I was joking when he grins all the way up to his eyes. “I’d love to!” he says. “When? What should I wear? Where is it?”
God, it’s the happy puppy-dog eyes again. I’m in so much trouble.
***
Ben grills me about every detail of the fundraiser over the next few days, even double-checking that the dark grey suit he chose to wear is okay. Even having seen the suit, I’m not prepared for the sight of Ben coming into the kitchen, still straightening his shirt cuffs.
“You. Look. Incredible,” I say before I can censor myself. “Your hair, and your suit, and god, what is that cologne?” I take three steps across the kitchen to him, my eyes closing as I inhale deeply.
I hear him swallow with a click. “Uh,” he says. “Thank you?”
My eyes pop open, realizing what I’ve just done. I expect him to look uncomfortable or even upset, but that is not the expression on his face. He looks dazed, his face flushed and his eyes wide. “You look amazing, too,” he adds, his voice oddly strangled.
I glance down, though I had checked my appearance in the mirror upstairs before I came down. I’m wearing my one black suit with a pale pink dress shirt, a black tie, and the rainbow tie tack that Mandy gave me for my birthday last year. She said if my suit was going to be boring, I needed color somewhere. I've carefully polished my shoes, and I think I look sharp, considering. I’m nothing compared to Ben, though. If I thought he had sexy daddy vibes before, it was nothing to what he was giving now.
Ben’s usually ruffled hair is brushed back and styled into a neat swoop, the silver catching the light. His white dress shirt is crisp, and he is wearing a black, grey, and white ombre tie. “You’re sure it’s okay?” he asks after he recovers himself. “I know you said it was, but I can probably find something else…”
“It’s perfect. You look so handsome,” I say, inhaling his scent again, though I try to be more inconspicuous about it this time.
Ben blushes and looks aside, all but scuffing his toe on the rug. It’s adorable, and I rub his shoulder lightly. “Let’s go. I want to show everyone that I brought the best-looking date at the fundraiser.”
“Oh my god,” he murmurs under his breath as he follows me to the car. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to hear that, so I pretend I didn’t.
The fundraiser is being held at an event center between Fort Collins and Denver. I’m getting in for free because of my internship, but the tickets start at $100 apiece for the paying guests.
We receive a program when we enter, outlining an evening with dinner, dancing, and a silent auction. A list of the clinical providers fills the bottom back of the sheet, and seeing "Trey Vaughn - Clinical Intern" sends a thrill through me.
Our seats are toward the back, and Ben pulls my chair out for me when we reach it, blushing again when he realizes how it looks. “Sorry, I just–”
I smile. “No, thank you,” I say, taking my seat. My name is on the place card, and Ben’s says "Vaughn Plus-One." I reach over and pick it up, grinning. “I’ve never been the one to have a plus-one,” I say.
Ben chuckles. “I’m honored to be your first,” he says.
I shake my head, looking at him. “Trust me, I’m the lucky one tonight.” He blushes again, and a shiver of desire rolls through me.
The food, while served in typically small portions, is delicious. There are several appetizers, including bacon-wrapped dates, thyme and fig goat cheese on delicious little toasts, and cranberry, brie, and pecan pinwheels. The main course is a choice of duck breasts with a fruit chutney and roast potatoes, steamed mussels with peppers, or a vegetarian stuffed squash. Ben chooses the duck, and I go with the squash. Obviously, I’m not a vegetarian, but I adore squash. I can feel Ben watching me eat, and though I try not to, I wonder if there will be squash for dinner at home sometime soon.
After the meal and a dessert of assorted flavors of gelato, there is dancing. We didn’t dance together at the wedding, but I had watched him dance with Mandy, and I was pretty sure he had watched me at the time. I didn’t know what it was about then, but the way things have developed, I have to wonder. I’m looking forward to having him in my arms, even if I don’t want to think too hard about why that is. When the first strains of music begin, I raise my eyebrows at him and tilt my head in the direction of the dance floor.
“Really?” he asks.
I frown. “Of course. Why not?”
Ben opens his mouth, then closes it again and shrugs. I take that as a yes, standing up and reaching for his hand. I expect the tingle and rush now that comes from holding hands with him; it happens every time we touch. I sternly remind myself not to do anything to make him uncomfortable. In very real terms, he is the only reason I have the chance to be here at all.
He had obviously enjoyed himself on the dance floor at the wedding, so I’m not surprised that after a hesitant start, we quickly get into it. We aren’t the only same-sex pair here, though we are in the minority, to be sure. The first few songs are upbeat and bouncy, and we go with it, but soon, a slower song comes on, and Ben looks distinctly adrift. “Do you want to head back to the table, or…” he asks cautiously.
I am riding a high from dancing, and I shake my head and reel him in. I catch a flash of surprise on his face, but then he smiles and puts his arms around me, and I can’t contain my pleased hum. He’s solid against me, more than I expected from his build, and after a fumble or two, he lets me lead. “I’ll take good care of you,” I purr into his ear, and I smile to myself when I hear him whimper. I’ll be hearing that whimper tonight in my dreams.
We dance through several more songs, fast and slow, and the feeling of Ben against me is intoxicating. When we finally both need a break and leave the floor, I subtly keep a hand on him. I don’t want to lose the contact yet. Ben tugs me toward the silent auction table. Most of the prizes are themed around self-care and wellness, and he pauses by the weighted blanket, diffuser, and relaxation sounds CD, reading the information card closely. He thinks about it for a moment, then puts in a bid. I peek at the clipboard after he moves on, and it takes everything in me not to squeak at the amount he bid. It more than makes up for our free admission.
We circle back to our table after we’ve looked at all the other items on offer, and Ben flags down a waiter to order a glass of champagne. “And one for you, sir?” the waiter asks me, but I shake my head.
“Just another Coke for me, please,” I reply.
I don’t mind that Ben is drinking, but I’ve been sober for years, and I’m going to stay that way.
I get the feeling that Ben is going to ask about my beverage choices for the evening, but Dr. Carlton approaches the table before he can, holding the hand of a slight, freckled man in his forties. “Trey! I’m so glad you could come. Gideon, this is Trey, the intern I was telling you about. If he’s not fully licensed and on our team within the next couple of years, I’ll eat my scrubs.”
The man grins at me. “Madeline, please, you’re embarrassing him. Look at him. He probably thinks you’re going to feed him to me.” He reaches out his hand to me. “It’s nice to meet you, Trey.”
She swats his shoulder and laughs while I stand up, shaking his hand and then hers. I work under her most often, and it seems that she’s happy with my work. She insists that I would be a perfect fit here once I have my degrees and license. That would be a dream come true, so I hope to make the best impression I can while I’m here.
“Call me Gideon,” the man says. “Since you’re not working for me. I’m Madeline’s husband. You’ve made quite the impression, I must say, particularly in certain circumstances.”
I know what he’s talking about. There had been a young man who called our hotline when he was considering an intentional overdose. I was only assisting Dr. Carlton, of course, but she had given me the lead on the call, and we ended the evening with the man – more like a boy, given his age – consenting to come in and get help. I knew that Dr. Carlton wouldn’t have given specifics, but I had been pleased with the outcome of that situation, and hearing that she was so happy with me that she was telling her husband was a pretty heady sensation. I’ve only rarely had someone act so proud of me.
“And who’s this?” Dr. Carlton asks, gesturing to Ben.
“I’m Ben, Trey’s date,” Ben says without hesitation, then frowns and glances at me as though he shouldn’t have said that.
I laugh. There is no way to put that cat back into a bag, but it wasn’t a secret. “Yes, Ben is my plus-one tonight. We just had a good time on the dance floor, then took a walk around the silent auction items. The dinner was great, wasn’t it?”
Everyone nods, then Gideon slips toward Ben to make a bit of small talk while Dr. Carlton looks on, and I fumble for something to say. Fortunately, she puts me out of my misery quickly. “You look good tonight, Trey,” she says. “I saw you both on the dance floor. It looks like you’re a good match. He has some nice moves.”
He really does. “This was our first time dancing together. It was a lot of fun.”
She smiles. “Good. I’ll drag my date off so you can have him to yourself again.” She recaptures her husband’s hand, and he allows himself to be towed away while I sit down with Ben again.
“They were great,” Ben says, watching them leave. “Your boss?”
“My direct supervisor, yes,” I say.
Ben nods and takes a sip of his champagne, and damn if I don’t get lost in watching his tongue lick away remnants on his upper lip. God, maybe I should just give in. I have very good reasons for avoiding casual sex or relationships, but Ben is everything I could want: kind, sweet, friendly, attentive, affectionate, hotter than hell…
Another quick sip, another quick lick. I can still feel his body in my arms on the dance floor and his hand on me at the wedding.
Yeah, I think. Maybe…