Twenty Ben
twenty
Ben
What about this one?” TJ asked.
“Nope!” Ruta said immediately, reaching over TJ’s shoulder and swiping left for him.
“Wait, what? You didn’t even look at the profile.”
“Red flags galore.” Ruta shrugged. “If you didn’t want our opinion, you shouldn’t have asked.”
So far, it had mostly been Ruta’s opinion.
The three of them—Ben, Ruta, and TJ—were clustered together in one corner of the performer lounge, a largish room backstage with a bunch of couches and chairs, a dishwasher and refrigerator, and, for some godforsaken reason, a single functioning microwave that always smelled just a little bit like fish.
There were few things in life more tedious than a piano tuning. Most of the Philharmonic had left the Kauffman Center. But TJ needed help with his love life, and somehow Ben, whose love life consisted of pretending to date someone just to get his ex to leave him alone, had gotten roped in.
“What red flags?” TJ asked.
Ben was curious himself.
Ruta held up a finger. “All their pictures were outdoors.”
“So?” Ben asked. He had lots of pictures of himself outdoors. It came with having a dog.
She raised a second. “They call themselves a ‘free spirit.’ ”
“I’m a free spirit!” TJ complained.
“But you don’t advertise it!” Ruta said. “Three, their hair is a different color in every single picture.”
TJ looked at Ben, flabbergasted.
Ben just shrugged. “You lost me there.”
“They don’t know who they are! They keep trying on different identities. Listen, TJ, I love you, but if you date another fixer-upper, I’m going to see if I can start sitting with the oboes.”
Ben curled in his lips to swallow a laugh.
Ruta wasn’t wrong there: In the two months since Ben had known him, TJ had dated three different people, all of whom had texted TJ nonstop with their problems, their needs for affirmation, their anxiety spirals, or, one time, their inability to log on to Netflix.
TJ seemed to deflate. “Fine.” He opened his app back up. “What about her?”
“Crazy eyes,” Ben said, reaching over to swipe left.
“What does that mean!” TJ asked.
“I’ve never met a white woman with that look in her eyes who was nice to service workers. Remember that lady at Aspire the other night?”
TJ grumbled but nodded. The woman in question hadn’t said anything outright racist to David before storming out, but Ben’s hackles had risen nonetheless, and when he checked on David after, David had confirmed he got a super weird vibe, too.
Ben knew that growing up Chinese in California was far from the same as growing up Black, but still, you developed a sixth sense for who was racist, even if they weren’t to your face.
“Listen.” Ruta brought her hands together like she was praying. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say maybe you need to give the apps a break for a while. Go out and meet people the old-fashioned way.”
TJ groaned. “How?”
“You know…” Ben said, then stopped himself. TJ and Ruta had known each other for years. They could talk like this. Yeah, they’d gotten close to Ben over the last few months, but it wasn’t the same, was it?
Ruta nodded at him, though. TJ cocked his head, curious.
“You know, Marisol always makes a point of talking to you at our games.”
“That’s just trans solidarity,” TJ said.
“I don’t see her twirling her hair around her finger when she talks to any of the other trans players,” Ben pointed out. “Do you?”
TJ went quiet for a second. “Won’t it be weird, dating a teammate?”
Ben pushed his glasses up his nose. “I’m literally dating the captain.”
“Oh yeah.” TJ chuckled. “You two are cute.”
Ben rolled his eyes, but he let himself smile.
He and Arya were cute. They’d been on several more pretend dates now.
In addition to putting on a good show, Ben had also been taking in a ton of Kansas City highlights.
Arya had taken him to the Nelson-Atkins, and the World War I Memorial, and the West Bottoms, where Ben had nearly lost an entire afternoon going through all the antique stores.
Being friends (and pretend boyfriends) with Arya was… fun.
He was having fun.
And yeah, they practiced kissing sometimes, too, and that was also fun.
And yeah, he’d been masturbating after every pretend date, too, but that was just… letting off steam. Especially since he couldn’t see other people. He couldn’t risk exposing their ruse.
His phone buzzed with a text from Arya. A photo of him trying on a new suit, a dark green pinstriped thing that showed off his long legs and trim shoulders.
“You have it so bad,” Ruta said.
Ben shrugged. He was supposed to have it bad, that was the whole point of all this. So he just gave a demure smile and shook his head, letting his hair shadow his eyes.
Before his friends could tease him any more, the door swung open and Kristina, the Philharmonic’s stage manager, popped her head in.
She was a shortish white woman, with asymmetrical red hair, joyful blue eyes, and terrifying galaxy-brain energy.
She had the endless patience of a saint and the mouth of a sailor.
“The fucking tuner’s finally done! Places in twenty!”
“Thank you, twenty,” they all answered in unison.
TJ sighed and tucked his phone away.
“Seriously. Ask Marisol out,” Ben said, patting TJ’s bony shoulder.
When had he become the group matchmaker?
Well, if he couldn’t have a real love story, someone deserved to.
Ben was hardly surprised when he walked into Aspire with the other cellos and saw Arya at the end of the bar, talking to David.
He must’ve made a sappy face, because Ruta elbowed him in the ribs.
“Go talk to your man,” she said, while Thomas chatted up the host to see if they could get one big table, or if they’d have to split up.
“Hey, handsome.” Ben sidled up for a quick kiss. Arya’s mouth tasted of Washington Syrah: blackberries and leather and vanilla. “Mm. You taste good.”
Handsome? Arya mouthed at him, eyes twinkling.
“K Syrah’s Powerline Estate,” David said, oblivious to Ben inadvertently venturing into pet name territory. “Want a glass?”
Ben glanced toward Ruta, who made a kissing face and waved him off. He blew her a little kiss back, then hopped onto the barstool next to Arya. Their knees brushed, warm and solid. Cozy.
When had being around Arya started feeling cozy?
This wasn’t real. Ben needed to remember that. They were pretending.
Arya knocked his knee into Ben’s again. “So how was the show?”
“Good,” Ben said. “How was work? Where were you today?”
“Out at the Nelson. Got a debutante ball this weekend.”
“Like… from the 1800s?” Ben waited for Arya to say he was joking. “They still do those?”
“Yup. There are still a few that happen in the city. They are… weird.”
“Huh.” Ben knew that rich white people loved a ball, but seriously? Debutantes? With poofy dresses and all? Like Carol Burnett?
Ben snorted.
“What?” Arya asked.
“You ever see the Carol Burnett Show where she spoofs Gone with the Wind and comes down the stairs with a curtain rod in her dress?”
Arya choked out a laugh. “I saw it on YouTube once. Yeah, that’s exactly what these balls are like. But with more fresh flowers. I have to double up my allergy meds.”
“Wow. So—”
“Ben?” a familiar voice asked.
Ben stiffened.
“Oh, hey, Arya. Or do you prefer ‘Captain’ in public?” Justin made quotation fingers as he asked. He stood at the end of the bar, dressed in a dark blue sport coat and white button-up. His collar was unbuttoned to show off a bit of smooth chest. Had he shaved it?
“Arya’s fine,” Arya said. “It’s Justin, right?”
Ben choked on his wine and started sputtering. Justin had been coming to practice for several weeks now; there was no way Arya didn’t know his name.
Talk about a power move.
Arya’s hand came up to rub his back as Ben hacked and coughed into the napkins David slid across the bar. He gave Ben a wink.
Ben swigged his water and finally stopped coughing.
Justin met his eyes, then looked past him to Arya. “Mind if I borrow him for a second?”
“He’s his own person,” Arya said before Ben could even respond. He furrowed his brows in Justin’s direction, then looked at Ben and softened with a silent question.
Need a rescue?
Wow. Those pretend dates were paying off if they could read each other’s looks now.
Also, who knew his pretend boyfriend was such a gentleman? Ben slid his arm around Arya’s waist.
“We’re actually in the middle of something right now. What did you need?”
Justin’s face flushed, which clashed with the auburn of his beard. He cleared his throat. “Nothing, just heard this place was good. Do they have Phoenix Mountain?”
“We do,” David said smoothly, sliding in. He shot Ben another wink. “One of the finest wines in Napa. I hear you used to work there? I don’t think we met when I visited.”
It was so subtle, Ben was barely aware of it happening, but somehow, David drew Justin not only into conversation, but down the bar and away from him and Arya.
Ben blinked and turned to Arya. “That was impressive.”
Arya grinned wide. “Right? He’s a good friend.”
“You’ve got a lot of good friends, don’t you?
” Ben had noticed that. How everyone at kickball loved Arya, but especially David and Farzan and Ramin and Noah.
And Jake, Simon’s new best friend. Ben didn’t even have to take her for a walk on days when Jake was at practice, he exhausted her so much playing together.
“I’m lucky.” Arya sighed and rested a hand on Ben’s thigh. “So. You hungry? My treat. Or do you have to go back to your cello friends?”
They were his friends. And suddenly, Ben understood what Arya had meant, about not being able to lie to Farzan and Ramin. When you cared about someone, you weren’t supposed to lie to them, not about something important. Guilt coiled in Ben’s gut, but he shoved it away.
“They’re rooting for us, you know,” Ben muttered.
“That just proves they have good taste, joonam,” Arya said, squeezing Ben’s leg.
“Joonam?”
Arya’s face stilled, did a funny thing. “It’s Persian. It means my soul. It’s a term of endearment.”
Ben blushed, but Arya’s eyes were downcast. His fingers clenched around his wineglass.