Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
HEATH
Olive oil sizzled on the toasted baguette slices as I pulled them from the oven. After letting them cool slightly, I spooned the bruschetta mix I’d made this morning onto the bread, then took a hearty scoop for myself as a chef tax. After adjusting several pieces into a tidy circle on the plate, I stood back to examine the appetizer spread. Bruschetta, spinach and artichoke dip with pita and cut vegetables, and brie with crackers.
Okay, so maybe I’d gone a little overboard with the appetizers since I also had a main course planned. The food prep helped keep my nerves at bay. He’d called it a date, but I wasn’t sure if he’d meant date -date or a friendly hangout. I hoped for the former and had cleaned my apartment and body thoroughly, just in case.
After I moved the appetizers to the living room coffee table, there was a knock at the door. I hustled over and opened it to reveal Ben dressed nicely in a short-sleeved, maroon button-up and form-fitting black jeans. This outfit made his tight scrubs baggy in comparison, showing off his strong thighs and arms. It took some serious effort not to give him a third once-over.
He clutched the straps of two bags in one hand. One was the familiar crochet project bag, and the other was a reusable grocery bag with two wine bottle necks sticking out above the rim.
Ben glanced at the bag and laughed self-consciously. “You said you had food under control, so I brought drinks. A red, a white, and some Tap That Brewery beer. Probably overkill, but…” He trailed off.
I immediately relaxed and gestured for him to enter. “You’re making me feel better about my appetizer spread.”
As soon as I closed the door, I turned toward him. He went in for a hug and wrapped his free arm around my shoulders as I hooked mine around his waist. I could’ve sworn I heard a soft sigh from his lips as our bodies made contact. It was dangerous how much I liked the feel of him in my arms.
When we started to pull apart, I turned my head to offer to take his bag as he turned toward me. My lips brushed the corner of his mouth. Instead of freezing or pulling back, he kissed the corner of my mouth in return. We parted and smiled at each other. There was no shyness in his heated gaze. Tension broken. Oh yeah, this is definitely a date.
“Thanks for the drinks. What would you like?” I took the drink bag off him.
Ben looked at the appetizers and laughed. “I’ll start with a beer, but maybe we can arrange a drink and appetizer pairing menu.” His wink sent flutters racing through my stomach.
“You got it.”
He followed me into the kitchen. “That’s a lot of food. Are you testing a party menu out on me?”
I chuckled as I put the white in the fridge and pulled pint glasses from my cupboard for the beer. “I cook when I’m nervous.”
Ben took a step closer to me. “Are you nervous?”
“A little.” My nerves were more about being overly invested in where things went with Ben.
Half of Ben’s mouth curved into a devastating smile. “Me too, but the good kind.”
After I poured our drinks, we moved to the couch. Ben set his beer on a coaster— swoon —and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The position pulled his shirt taut around his shoulders.
“This all looks delicious. I’m starving. What’s the dip?”
After talking him through the offerings, we fell into an easy conversation while filling our bellies. Time passed in a blur of laughter, drinks, getting to know each other better, and the kind of teasing you could only do with someone you genuinely clicked with. My sides hurt from laughter and my cheeks ached from all the smiling.
Thankfully, I’d chosen a light pasta dish for dinner because I was nearly stuffed from the appetizers. After dinner at my two-seat bistro table, we settled back on the couch with the remaining white wine. We sat close together in the middle.
Ben picked the project bag off the floor. “Are you ready for this?” Ben studied me from under his long lashes as he pulled supplies from the bag.
“As I’ll ever be.” My nerves activated again for an entirely different reason. When Mom found Uncle Rick’s project, I never imagined I could be a part of it, but as soon as Ben mentioned the possibility, I couldn’t let the idea go. Now, I worried I wouldn’t be able to actually do it.
After telling me we’d do some practice rows to get the idea of things before moving into the granny square pattern, he showed me how to hold the crochet hook and yarn. It felt awkward and foreign wrapped around my fingers.
“The tendency is to hold everything really tight, but try to avoid that.” He directed me through something called chain stitches.
I pulled my attention away from the lopsided column of loops dangling from my hook to glance at Ben. “Why?”
Ben’s fingers sped through a bunch of chains in the time it took me to do one. “Once you start working on the next row like this, it can be difficult to get your hook in when the first row of chains is tight.”
I tugged on my yarn to start over, not for the first time. “Does it affect anything if I make them too big?”
“Not really. The tension will sort itself out as you keep crocheting.”
I had to trust the process. I did trust Ben, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to progress from simply making a row of chain loops.
About twenty minutes later, Ben proved me wrong. After several more false starts with the chain stitches being either too tight or too uneven, which bothered me far more than it bothered Ben, I moved on to the first actual row of stitches. Our bodies touched from shoulders to hips. Ben kept his hands next to mine so I could mimic his movements as he taught me something called single crochet. His encouragement never waned as I finished the first row.
“Look at that! You’re doing great.” Ben beamed at me.
I warmed under his praise, which kept growing as he taught me how to identify the different stitches so I could move on to making a granny square. Once I’d successfully identified the parts of a stitch, he wrapped yarn around his fingers in a way that reminded me of a hand-string game from elementary school.
“This is a magic ring. I’m going to start yours because it’s not a beginner technique, and I don’t want you to get frustrated.” His grin softened his words, and I appreciated that he was doing everything he could to help me be successful. He would’ve been a great educator, but I was sure that attitude made all the difference in his line of work.
Once he’d finished two, he passed one to me, held the other, and showed me how to spot the stitches in a circle instead of the line I’d been doing. Now I understood why he’d hammered home the stitch identification.
“You’re right. You are good at this.”
Ben’s eyes sparkled. “Thank you. That means a lot.” He worked his hook in and out of the stitches with ease. “You know, crochet is more logical than people give it credit for. You’re following a pattern. Instructions. You can be as artistic as you want by deviating from the pattern and selecting colors, but you can also make it as straightforward as you need.”
I considered his words. “I think I get what you mean. Even though all my artistic talent lives in my pinky, this feels doable to me. With more practice.”
Ben knocked his shoulder into mine. He didn’t have far to travel, given how close we still sat.
I’d always admired people who could take plain materials and make something beautiful. People who had the talent to see things I couldn’t. Who could blend colors, shapes, and patterns in ways that mesmerized me. Ben was that kind of person, and I really liked that about him. It turned out I liked a lot about Ben.
My frustration grew with the size of my granny square. It looked sloppy and uneven next to his. Logically, I knew I was a beginner, but usually, I had an aptitude for things when I tried them. The stuff I stuck with, anyway. For better or worse.
“This looks like crap.” I held it next to his.
Ben wrapped his hand around mine and lowered it. “Think of it this way. You’ll always know which square is yours when I assemble the blanket.”
I dropped my head back against the couch and faced him. “You always have a positive response for everything, don’t you?”
He shrugged. “It’s the truth though. I like that you’ll be able to identify it.”
One side of my mouth hitched up. “I do too.” I tapped his knee with mine.
With renewed determination, I kept going. Eventually, I moved steadier, but I would’ve abandoned it rows, and nearly two hours ago, if it wasn’t for Ben’s coaxing and encouraging comments. Before I knew it, I finished my square. White with orange for Michelangelo. Ben had distracted me with stories of his crochet fails until I reached the end.
I stared at the uneven but square-shaped crocheted piece in my hands. “I did it. I finished.” I couldn’t hide the astonishment from my voice. I would be a part of Uncle Rick’s blanket. It was such a silly thing, but it meant the world to me.
“You did.” Pride shone through Ben’s words.
I gazed into his handsome face, which blurred as my eyes filled with tears. Ben was doing something kind for my uncle and making me a part of it. I expected to be overcome with grief, but a lightness filled my chest. Ben had given me something I would never be able to thank him enough for.
“Oh, Heath. C’mere.” The tears flowed more easily as Ben pulled me into his arms. He rubbed my back and murmured soothing words.
I waited for the shame to hit. I was crying in a gorgeous man’s arms on our first date, for fuck’s sake, but it didn’t hit. I supposed I’d gotten to know him well enough over the past several weeks to believe he wouldn’t judge me one bit.
I melted into his strong arms. Though my uncle had died decades ago, the pain had never fully gone away. It was worse each holiday he was absent, every Pride month, any time I saw a commercial for HIV treatments that gave people long, healthy lives and wished it’d been available for him.
The soothing circles Ben rubbed into my back brought me back to the present, to him. Warmth and joy filled every space in my body as I buried my face in his neck and squeezed him. I gave in to an impulse and pressed my lips against the skin under his ear. A thank-you kiss against his pulse. An acknowledgment. A wish. An invitation.
Ben’s fingers teased into my hair as he held me closer, squeezing tighter. I kissed his neck again, and Ben let out a soft, happy sigh as I forged a path with kisses. I wanted to get as close as I could get. I’d needed the emotional release, but now I craved something else.
Ben.