31. Nolan
NOLAN
The last time Ben, Bobby, and I were all in this kitchen, Ben ran out of it naked.
Right now, I kind of want to run too.
Ben came straight to me after he walked into the party. He didn’t stop for a beer or let Sindre pull him toward the television, and now he stands in front of me with Bobby close enough to hear every word we say.
Bobby looks down at the floor between us. His eyes go wide, and he steps a full foot to his right.
He’s moved out of the exact spot Ben was standing when he had one hand down my pants.
Ben follows his gaze. His cheeks go red as Bobby studies the ceiling, but he doesn’t back away.
Interesting.
“Can we talk?” Ben repeats.
Bobby crosses his arms. The position puts him between me and the rest of the kitchen like he’s decided Ben might try to drag me off and murder me at my own party.
“Talk, if you want.” I keep my beer in my hand and don’t move any closer.
Ben glances toward the living room. “Privately.”
We both look at Bobby, who plants his feet wider.
He isn’t leaving.
Ben’s shoulders lift with a deep breath, then settle. He looks at Bobby instead of me when he says, “Nolan and I have been seeing each other since that trip to Arizona. I fucked it up, and I want to talk to him.”
On the last sentence, his eyes come to mine.
Bobby’s arms fall to his sides. The last time he found out anything about us, Ben couldn’t get dressed fast enough. I had to threaten him into silence afterward, and Ben still doesn’t know that. All he knows is that Bobby saw us.
Now he’s telling him.
Ben’s face is still red, but his gaze doesn’t leave mine. I’m not ready to forgive him, although I want to hear whatever made him do that.
Bobby looks at me once, apparently decides I no longer need a guard, and heads for the living room. He moves so fast he nearly catches one shoulder on the wall.
I wait until he’s gone. “Now we’re sharing secrets?”
“I talked to Grayson.” Ben rubs the back of his neck. “And Micah.”
My fingers tighten around the beer. “Micah?”
“I went to Marlowe’s. He was there.”
“Why did you go to Marlowe’s?”
Sindre walks into the kitchen before Ben can answer. He goes straight to the cooler beside the island and starts digging through the ice for another beer, although there are several sitting right on top.
Ben’s mouth closes. Sindre glances between us while he opens his drink. He is absolutely waiting to find out whether we’re going to keep talking in front of him.
Somebody else is going to come looking for beer before Sindre gets bored enough to leave. I put mine on the counter. “Come on.”
Ben follows me down the hall. Every step takes us farther from the party and makes what we’re doing feel less like a quick conversation. By the time I open my bedroom door, I can hear him breathing behind me.
I let him walk in first, then close the door.
That puts him between me and the bed.
I want to put him on that bed and fuck him until he says my name the way he used to. I don’t even know if he wants to try again.
Great.
Ben stops near the foot of the bed. The dresser behind him still holds a pair of his gray sweats, some socks, and a shirt he forgot after one of the nights he stayed over.
I thought about bringing everything to practice in a bag, but returning his clothes felt like agreeing we were done. I kept shutting the drawer instead.
He has no idea they’re there.
I stay beside the door. He’s close enough that I can feel his body heat, and I hate how badly I want him to cross the rest of the room. Wanting him is what got me through every smaller answer he offered before.
“Are you here to tell me you’ve figured everything out and I’m not an exception?” I ask.
“No.”
My hand goes back to the doorknob. I asked for the truth, but I was hoping for a different one.
Ben sees the movement and starts talking before I can open the door. “I think you are the exception. I seriously have never looked at another dude the way I’ve looked at you or wanted another guy like I want you.”
The same word hurts just as much this time. Telling Bobby and Micah about us doesn’t help if Ben still wants me to live in a category where none of this has to count.
I turn the knob. “Okay, well, that’s flattering.”
“I’m not done.”
I don’t open the door, but I keep my hand where it is. “By all means.”
Ben takes one step toward me. “I’ve also never looked at another woman the way I’ve looked at you.”
That gets my attention, although I’m not giving him the satisfaction yet. “I know you weren’t a virgin.”
“Stop being a dick and let me talk.”
He moves around the end of the bed while he speaks, closing some of the distance between us. I let go of the doorknob without telling him to stop.
“I’ve dated a couple of women and slept with more than a couple,” Ben says. “It was fine and it was fun, but a lot of the time it was something I did because that’s what you do when you go out.”
“Congratulations, you’ve discovered compulsory heterosexuality.”
His forehead creases. “There’s a name for it?”
He’s serious. I can practically see him preparing to go home and look it up, and if I let him, we’ll be back in the kitchen arguing about this after the playoffs.
“Continue.”
Ben comes another step closer. “Listen, I don’t like people. Not like this.”
The bedroom door stays closed at my back while the party goes on without me.
“There’s something special about you,” he says. His voice roughens, and his hands curl once at his sides. “Call me bisexual, or queer, or whatever. It feels weird, but I’ll get used to it. I just…”
He stops.
There isn’t much room left between us now. Ben could reach me without taking another step, but he doesn’t. He looks more frightened than he did when he told Bobby we’d been seeing each other.
“What?” I ask.
“I love you.”
My knees go strange. I look toward the lamp beside the bed because this is Seattle and maybe the Big One has finally hit, but the lamp isn’t moving.
Ben doesn’t laugh. He stands in front of me and waits while I try to understand how the same man who wouldn’t let me finish the word boyfriend in Miami has skipped right past it.
I wanted him to say I mattered and ask for me back. Love was too much to hope for when I couldn’t get him to admit we were fucking without checking who might hear.
He told Micah and his brother before coming here. Then he found me in front of everyone and told Bobby what we were without asking for anything first.
Ben’s eyes narrow with concern. “Oh god, please don’t have an aneurysm. We need you for the playoffs.”
“Now who’s the dick?” His joke gives me something I can answer, so I grab it. “You tell me you love me, and now you’re worried about playing?”
“I can worry about two things at once.” Ben closes the remaining distance but keeps his hands to himself. “I don’t know if this is enough for you, but it’s what I’ve got. I want to be with you. This isn’t hooking up or curiosity anymore.”
I put my palm against his chest before he can come closer. His heart is beating hard beneath my hand. Ben stops immediately, although his whole body leans into the contact.
He can take as long as he needs to find a word. What happens to us the next time being with me scares him matters more.
“Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?” I keep my hand between us. “What about the next time someone walks in on us?”
Ben wraps his fingers around my wrist and holds my palm against his chest. “You heard what I said to Bobby. If my dick is hanging out, I might freak, but that’s because I’m not an exhibitionist.”
I almost smile. Of course he’d make a practical distinction while asking me to take him back. I missed that too.
He doesn’t pull my hand away or use it to drag me closer. Ben waits until I let my fingers spread over his chest, then leans in and kisses me.
I kiss him back without thinking about it. My free hand catches his waist as his slides around the back of my neck. His mouth is warm and familiar, tasting faintly of beer.
I’d meant to make him wait for at least one more question before I let him touch me, but I’ve missed him too much to keep count. My hand slips under his shirt and finds warm skin. Ben shudders against my mouth, and the pulse beneath my other palm jumps.
He presses closer. I feel the shape of his chest through our shirts and the hard line of his thigh between mine. My body is already making plans that involve locking the door and forgetting every person outside it.
Ben makes a rough sound when I pull him closer and kisses me harder. My back meets the bedroom door, but the hand in my hair stays careful even while the rest of him crowds me against it.
I kiss him back just as hard.
Doesn’t that answer that?
I pull away far enough to speak, though my fingers stay hooked in the back of his shirt. “You’re a confused dick, but I love you too.”
Ben goes still under my hands, and his breath catches before he lowers his forehead to mine and closes his eyes. He looked calmer when we clinched a playoff spot than he does now.
“So you’re my boyfriend?”
“Don’t make me regret this.”
His mouth curves against mine before he kisses me again. The smile keeps getting in the way until I kiss one corner of it and then the other, and Ben gives up with a laugh.
The sound goes through me. I haven’t heard him laugh in this room since before Bobby used his emergency key for a caffeine crisis.
The song outside changes, and the party gets louder around the heavy beat. We’re still against the door while half the team empties my fridge and probably wonders whether Bobby was hallucinating whatever he just heard in the kitchen.
“We should go back,” I say, although I don’t let go of Ben’s shirt.
“Yeah.” He kisses me once more before stepping away.
I turn for the handle. Ben catches my hand before I reach it and threads our fingers together.
Both our palms are damp. His grip is firm.
Ben opens the door with his free hand and walks into the hall. The noise gets louder with every step toward the living room, and his jaw tightens when we reach the end of the hall. He doesn’t let go.
Bobby sees us first when we walk back into the kitchen. His gaze drops to our joined hands, and a grin takes over his face.
“Hell yeah, Pope.”
“Shut up,” I tell him.
That only makes him laugh. Sindre follows his attention and lets out a whistle. Somebody near the living room tells us to get a room.
We just came out of one.
One of the defensemen gives Ben a thumbs-up while another looks at our hands, shrugs, and reaches past us for the bottle opener. A group near the windows keeps singing badly with the chorus.
The replay of our winning goal comes onto the television and pulls everybody’s attention back to the screen. Half the room starts yelling about my pass, and Bobby abandons us to explain what they saw wrong.
Ben keeps holding my hand while Bobby argues.