8. Friendship Probation
8
Friendship Probation
“So where are we going?” Ben asked as I unlocked Mabel.
We scrambled into the cab to escape the cool autumn air. The leather interior chilled me through my jeans as I settled into the driver’s seat. When I handed him my bag, he laid it on the floor between his legs next to his own.
“The drive-in. They have the best blue moon shakes.”
“What’s that?”
Just to be a dick, I said, “Well, it’s when they mix ice cream with milk so you can drink it out of a straw.”
“Har, har. I meant, what’s blue moon?”
I paused with my key half-inserted in the ignition as Ben buckled his seat belt. “Do you seriously not know?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I did.”
His innocent question was precious and yet completely depressing. “Oh no, this won’t do.” I shook my head sadly as I fired up the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. “Blue moon is only the best ice cream flavor on the face of the planet! And the fact that I have to explain this to you is extremely disappointing.”
“I didn’t realize you were so passionate about ice cream.”
“And I didn’t realize you’d lived your life under a rock.” He scoffed at my sour tone “Good thing you’re still on probation.”
He typed on his phone, diverting his attention between me and his screen. “Probation? For what?”
“Um, friendship probation. What else?”
He dropped his phone into his lap and crossed his arms over his chest. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” I explained as I maneuvered Mabel through the light traffic, “that this is a trial period, and you gotta watch yourself. Three strikes, and you’re out. And you’re already at one strike.”
He was not amused, and I bit my lip to stop my smile. “That’s not how friendship works.”
“Well, I’m not so good at the whole friend thing, so…” I shrugged.
“I think you underestimate yourself.”
If he’d been teasing, I’d have flipped him off. But his tone was sweetly sincere. It sent heat bubbling under my skin.
“You don’t know me,” I blurted.
His next words rang confidently through the cab as his lips quirked in a lopsided grin. “Not yet.”
The rest of our drive passed in silence, but it wasn’t awkward. Normally, silence made me uncomfortable, but the stillness between us was easy, soothing. I could get used to this.
When we arrived at the drive-in, I pulled into a spot and rolled down my window. “What do you want?” I pushed the Call button and waited for the speaker to crackle.
“I’m not picky. Whatever you’re having is fine.”
“All right.”
When a voice crackled through the speaker, I ordered two burgers, curly fries, and blue moon shakes, and after she gave me the total cost, I crawled out of the cab. Ben shadowed me, and I climbed into the back gingerly and pulled several cushions out of the tool box bolted to the truck bed. Motioning for the grinning boy to join me, he hopped in and made himself comfortable opposite me.
“You don’t like people eating in your truck?” He leaned back against the frame.
“Naw, it’s just more fun this way.” I mirrored his position. “Don’t you think?”
“Do you come here a lot?”
“Not a lot, but often enough. It’s quiet and, if you’re here late enough, it’s dark enough to see the stars.”
He tilted his head to the sky to admire them. “I think my aunt and uncle brought me here once when I was visiting as a kid.”
We sat in another easy silence until our food arrived via a girl on roller skates. She clicked the tray on the side of the truck and accepted the twenty I handed to her, thanking me when I told her to keep the change. Ben made to go for his wallet, and I waved away the gesture.
“Next time you pay,” I offered, passing him his burger, fries, and shake. His stomach gurgled in excitement as he accepted the food, but he eyed the shake suspiciously. “Just try it. It’s amazing.”
I took a sip of my shake and bit back a moan as the fresh, sweet flavor burst on my tongue. It tasted like springtime. Ben took a hesitant sip, smacking his lips dramatically.
“Not bad,” he said. I raised an eyebrow and popped a fry in my mouth. He sighed in defeat. “Okay, it’s the best damn flavor on the planet. Happy?”
“Glad to see you’ve joined me on the dark side,” I sniffed and dug into my burger, reveling in the delicious combination of greasy minced meat and fresh veggies.
The truck bed fell quiet as we ate, and I discovered silence would be the norm with Ben. He wasn’t overly shy, but he wasn’t a huge talker, either. He took his time with things. Speaking, eating, he never rushed. Even now, he ate methodically, a couple of fries dipped in ketchup, a bite of burger, and then a sip of shake. How did I not notice this last night at dinner?
Like his food, he savored his words, tasting each one before releasing it to the universe. I ran my mouth twenty-four seven, saying things I wished I could erase, but not Ben. He strolled through conversation, an odd weight to what he said. Analyzing my words exhausted me, and I couldn’t imagine the restraint he utilized, especially in conversation with me.
When I was left with nothing but my shake to occupy my mouth, Ben peered at me through his lashes, catching me staring. My cheeks warmed again, but I played it off as best as I could. “You eat weird.”
“Does that bother you?” He polished off the rest of his burger in one bite, his damp curls teasing his forehead as he cocked his head curiously.
I shook my head, capturing my straw and sucking another mouthful of cold deliciousness. He pondered me a moment before removing the lid from his own shake. He took a fry and dipped it into his ice cream before popping it in his mouth while I watched horrified.
“You realize that’s paramount to sacrilege, right?” My face twisted in disgust, but he slicked another fry in his shake slowly, a challenge shining in his eyes. I huffed dramatically and pointedly stared at the darkening sky as he massacred his shake and fries. What a barbarian!
“So,” he started as he swallowed his repulsive french-fry concoction, “since we’re testing the treacherous waters of friendship, you should tell me something about yourself.”
“Smartass,” I grumbled around my straw, but I played along. “My favorite color’s orange. You?”
He dropped his gaze to his shake, and the tips of his ears colored. “Gray.”
“Gray’s not a color.”
His eyes met mine, struggling to communicate something I couldn’t understand, but my stomach curled at the dark meaning in his stare. “You’d be surprised.”
It was my turn to drop my gaze.
“What’s your favorite movie?” he asked.
I contemplated a moment, chewing on my straw. “Do you want my honest answer or my tough guy answer?”
“Both,” he said without hesitation.
“Okay, so my straight, tough guy answer is Gladiator .”
“Huh, never seen it.”
“No way?” He nodded, and I straightened my spine, leaning forward with my arms on my knees. “How can you… I mean, everybody with a functioning dick has seen Gladiator !”
Ben shushed me, craning his neck as he searched the cars on either side of us for offended patrons, and I cackled at his embarrassed flush. Right, we were in a family establishment. I shouldn’t be yelling about dicks.
“Well, I haven’t seen it, and my dick works,” he said with a blush.
Instead of ruminating on that revelation, I chucked my unopened ketchup packet at his head and said. “Gross.”
“Okay, okay. Real answer now.”
“ Coraline ,“ I said promptly.
Ben winced.
“You haven’t seen that one either?” I tutted. “That’s a real shame, Adams.”
“Sorry to disappoint, Brigs.”
“That’s okay. We’ll watch both sometime. Now you. Favorite movie, tough guy answer and honest answer.”
“I don’t have a tough guy answer. My favorite movie’s Up .”
This boy could not be real.
“The Pixar movie?”
Without a shred of embarrassment, he nodded. “Yes. I love Pixar movies, but Up is my favorite.”
“That’s… honestly adorable. I can’t even make fun of it.”
He smiled and turned his attention back to his shake. “I like Shawshank Redemption . Does that count as a tough guy answer?”
I laughed at the sky. “Sure, Ben.”
As the evening wore on, we talked about everything and nothing for over an hour, the topics flowing smoothly from one to another. Our conversation remained surface level, our likes and dislikes, hobbies and interests. He talked about California, and I told him about my dad and Will. Neither of us mentioned our mothers, and we didn’t ask, either. Maybe we shared the same ghosts, and he could see it in my eyes, the same haunted shadows darkening his.
He liked computers and coding, and he was wicked smart. It made me jealous, the way he talked about MIT and his plans for the future. He knew exactly what he wanted, setting precise goals, and my own insecurities bubbled to the surface. I felt even less put together when I compared his plans to my own, or lack thereof.
I would enter college undecided. I didn’t have passions or overly interesting hobbies. I dabbled here and there with what sparked my attention before I moved on to something new. Decently talented in varying avenues, I didn’t excel anywhere specific. I was lost, had been for years, drifting through the empty ocean of life at the mercy of the current.
I envied Ben’s surety. He was a compass, pointing the way home while I attempted to map out the ever-changing stars to get my bearings. We couldn’t be more different.
“Well, what do you enjoy doing?” he asked when I more or less voiced my doubts about college, and I hesitated. It was a good question.
“I don’t know.” My answer was far from satisfying.
He stretched his legs across the width of the cab, his shoe grazing my thigh as he pursed his lips. “I don’t think that’s true. Everyone knows what they like.”
Shrugging, I scratched lines into the now-empty Styrofoam cup and avoided his probing curiosity. “Yeah, maybe, but I guess I’m not everyone. I don’t really like anything.”
“Nothing?”
“I like playing Splatoon .”
“That’s a good game. But that’s not what I mean.”
“I guess.” I paused, not wanting to voice the confession edging up my throat. Ben smiled in encouragement, and for a moment, I trusted him not to mock me. “I guess I like to paint sometimes.”
Startled at my admission, his eyebrows disappeared into his curls, and my face boiled. Paint? Why were we even talking about this?
“I didn’t know you were an artist.”
“I’m not!” I denied vehemently, running my hand through my hair. “I suck at art.”
“Apparently not.”
I shook my head and kicked at the inside of his knee, making him smother a chuckle. “The only time I touch paints is when I’m making the backdrops and set pieces for theater.”
“Is that the reason you help with theater?”
Yes, but I couldn’t admit that—the truth was too embarrassing. “I don’t know.”
Ben’s elbows rested on the lip of my truck-bed wall, but his shoe nudged my thigh once, twice. “There’s nothing wrong with liking to paint. Maybe you should try painting for fun.”
“How stereotypical,” I scoffed, picking at the lint on my pants. “The misunderstood queer artist trope is a little over-played don’t you think?”
His chuckle floated into the darkening sky. “I don’t think your sexual orientation predicts your hobbies.”
“Unless my hobby is fucking guys.”
His blue eyes lowered to his lap as his ears turned red for the hundredth time since he’d crawled into my truck. “Is that your hobby?”
I scowled, remembering the many rumors circulating about me and my devious sexual endeavors. “According to the school rumor mill, yes.”
“And according to you?”
His stare held a challenge, and instead of sassing him, I swallowed the unexpected vulnerability swelling my throat shut. “No.”
The quiet was slightly awkward this time, and I studied the drive-in logo on my empty cup like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Hesitant fingers grazed the skin of my ankle, not quite pressing. Like a question, like he was… asking permission.
When I didn’t tell him to stop or pull away, his fingers wrapped around my ankle completely, his chilled palm somehow burning through my skin. His head bowed, eyes latched to his hand on my ankle, as if his action surprised him like it did me, but he didn’t pull away.
“Not that I listen to rumors,” Ben started, his voice barely above a whisper, “but you’re not that person, whoever those assholes say you are. That’s not you.”
His words hurt.
“You don’t know me,” I echoed the words I spoke earlier in my truck, and Ben’s vulnerable response was barely audible.
“Maybe I’d like to.”
Our eyes met, a tentative intensity sparking through the air, and my veins simmered. “Why?”
He smiled, sad but hopeful. “I told you last night, you’re real. Maybe I need real.”
This, whatever the fuck it was, was too much, too close. I wasn’t good with emotion or connection, stupid human shit. It was easier to reinforce the security walls I built around myself.
Instead of responding, I broke the charged moment, shifting my leg so his hand fell away. He tightened it into a fist, pressing the balled hand into his thigh as his skin deepened fire-engine red.
“I should get you back to your car,” I said, ending our scary, bewildering exchange, and his shoulders slumped.
“Okay,” he agreed, disappointed but resigned.
We cleaned up the truck bed, and Ben tossed our trash while I practically fell from the back of my vehicle, barely saving myself from face-planting on the asphalt. I wasn’t certain, but the hint of a chuckle tickled my ears, like he’d seen it.
“Walk much?” He rounded the nose of my truck, and I opened the driver’s door with a dry stare.
“Shut up, butt-munch.” I smiled as the insult broke the strange tension between us.
“Sure thing, booger-breath.”
I lost my composure, chortling as we buckled our seat belts. “I can tell you were great at schoolyard insults growing up.”
“Hey, now, I was a good kid. I didn’t go around insulting people.”
I backed out of the parking spot and maneuvered us to the street. “You were always this nauseatingly nice? Why is that not surprising?”
“You get friends when you’re nice.”
“I’m not nice, and I have friends.”
Okay, perhaps I was exaggerating. It was a little white lie, but I wasn’t telling. As I pulled into traffic, I peeked at Ben covertly to find his dimple on full display, and my heart flip-flopped.
“Maybe you’re just the exception.”
Again, he didn’t speak mockingly. He was entirely sincere. I blushed. Again.
When we pulled into the school parking lot, only a few cars were left. I parked Mabel next to Ben’s car, idling the engine. He crawled out of the passenger seat, the door hanging open as he tossed his backpack into his backseat.
“Well, uh, thanks for the ice cream.” He bent into the open door, his arm propped on the top of the cab. The sleeve of his zip-up hoodie stretched around his bicep, and I tightened my grip on my steering wheel.
Be cool, Silas, be cool.
“Yeah, well, the blue moon made up for your terrible company,” I quipped, and he rolled his eyes, slamming my door shut with a wave of his middle finger. I lowered the automatic window and leaned over the bench seat. “Aw, did I hurt Benji’s feelings?”
“Screw you.”
His arms crossed over his chest, and I couldn’t stop my gaze from flitting over his toned form. He had the classic swimmer’s body, and I wondered, for a moment, what it would feel like under my fingertips. The lean muscles shifted under his sweatshirt, tempting me to touch, but I tore my eyes away. He wasn’t aware of my reaction to him, and I prayed he never caught on.
I didn’t want to feel like this. Wanting Ben… it was too complicated. Apparently, the flutter in my stomach didn’t give a shit.
“You’re something else, Si.” Ben shook his head with a grin, and my chest warmed at the nickname. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
He said it more as a question, because things had been so hot and cold between us. He had to have been so confused.
You and me both, buddy!
“Yeah,” I assured him, swallowing down my own reservations, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Good.” He smiled grandly, like I’d promised to buy him a puppy, before dropping into his car.
My thoughts scattered as he started his car, instantly lonely at the prospect of him leaving. Oh no, I couldn’t already be getting attached, right? Maybe being friends with Ben was a bad idea after all.
We were friends now, kind of, but it was different somehow. A strange undertow tugged me toward him, the sand beneath my feet slowly slipping away as I lost whatever stability I’d managed to attain. Powerless to stop the tug of the current, I drew closer to what I feared were dangerous waters. It was new and intriguing, but I was terrified to truly surrender.
As Ben waved a goodbye, I sat in my truck staring after his tail lights, questioning what exactly I’d gotten myself into and how long I would last before my foothold disappeared completely and I sank.