Thirty-Five Arya #2
Once Ben had drained the glass—his Adam’s apple bobbing, the cords on his neck catching the light, his jaw so tantalizingly close—he let out a soft ah!
, which Arya had noticed he himself had started doing lately.
Did everyone do that once they got close to forty, or had he started copying Ben, or what?
Ben still didn’t say anything. He glanced over at Simon, curled up in her bed. She caught him looking and wagged her tail but didn’t move.
Finally Arya said, “I guess we’d better talk about what happened.”
Ben seemed to deflate a bit.
“I’m sorry. I was drunk.”
“Clearly.”
Ben at least managed to look chagrined. “Brenda and Maurizio—”
“Brenda and Maurizio always get sloshed at those things, but neither of them have ever asked any of the hotel staff for a three-way. What were you thinking?” Arya rubbed his head. “And with Justin? Seriously? Are you still… Do you still like him?”
“What?” Ben’s eyes went wide. “No. Of course not.”
Arya couldn’t decide if that made things better or worse. “But you’d fuck him.”
“No, you’d fuck him.”
“What on earth makes you think I’d want to fuck him?” Arya threw his hands in the air. “I’m your boyfriend, not his.”
“You’re the one who’s always saying what a slut you used to be. I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.”
Arya didn’t know why that hurt so much. He was a slut. Proud of it, too. But hearing it in Ben’s voice, as a criticism, was different. It felt like Ben had punched him right in the chest. He had to remind himself how to breathe.
“Used to be. We agreed to be exclusive. And I was fine with that. I thought you were, too. But now you’re—”
“Fine?” Ben asked. “Fine? You say you’re fine, but you haven’t touched me in weeks!”
That wasn’t fair. Arya was stressed about work and pissed off at his parents. Ben was the only good thing in his life, and somehow he’d fucked that up, too. Without even trying.
“So your solution was this? A three-way? Why not just tell me I was making you unhappy? I’m not a fucking mind reader, Ben! Have you ever thought that maybe if you were just direct with people, you could save yourself a lot of heartache?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means the entire time I’ve known you, you’ve avoided dealing with problems. You wanted to avoid Justin, so you kissed me.
Then he followed you out here, so you asked me to pretend to be your boyfriend.
And now you didn’t want to ask me what was up, so you decided a three-way was the solution. Instead of just fucking talking to me.”
It was total bullshit.
“You’re my boyfriend,” Ben said, running a hand through his hair and knocking his glasses off-kilter. He pulled them off and tossed them onto the side table. “I shouldn’t have to pry information out of you just to find out why you’re unhappy!”
“It was my own shit, okay? I got into a big fight with my parents before my dad left, and I haven’t talked to them since.
Mitchell wants to sell our building. Everything in my life is shit right now except you.
I just wanted one part of my life that wasn’t complicated.
One person who didn’t make me feel like I was drowning. ”
“Drowning? Arya, I’m supposed to keep you afloat. You’re supposed to tell me this shit. Otherwise what’s the point of being together? It’s not just sex and kissing.”
“I know that!” Arya grasped the back of his neck and tried to squeeze the tension out of it. He could really do with one of Ben’s massages right now, but that was out of the question. “Do you really think that’s all I want?”
“Well, what am I supposed to think, when you close off huge parts of your life to me? You wouldn’t even take me to meet your parents. You want us to live in this little bubble, but being boyfriends means being vulnerable. Letting people see the ugly parts of yourself, too.”
“I am. I have been.” Arya swallowed. His throat felt thick. “I’ve told you shit I’ve never told anyone before. Not even my best friends. But I told you I needed you to be patient. I told you this was all new to me.”
“I thought that meant you’d make a few mistakes here and there, not that you’d shut me out of half your life! You didn’t tell me you were this…” Ben’s mouth moved, but he couldn’t find a word.
“What?” Arya barely recognized his voice, his throat was so clamped off. “Hopeless?”
Ben shook his head. “I didn’t say that. Don’t put words in my mouth.”
He didn’t need to say it. Arya was hopeless.
He’d always known it. Had known it all his life.
He was his parents all over again. It didn’t matter that he cared about Ben more than he’d ever cared about anyone.
It didn’t matter that he’d give up sex forever if that’s what it took to be with Ben.
All that mattered was that he was Arya Fucking Nazeri, Slut Extraordinaire, and he didn’t know the first thing about love.
He was done. He’d tried, but he was done.
“You don’t need to say it,” Arya said. “I already know. So let’s just call it off before it gets any messier. All right?”
Ben reared back like Arya had slapped him. His face had gone red, nostrils flared as he breathed.
“Arya, that’s not what I’m saying!” He tugged on his hair. “I feel like we’re having two different fights.”
If they were, Arya only knew how to deal with the one he understood. The one about how he wasn’t cut out to be a boyfriend.
“You can go back to Justin or… or whatever it is you want. It’s almost the ball anyway.
” This was what made the most sense. Arya’s insides were filled with ice—the sort of jagged chunks that fell off your windshield after a freezing rain—but he didn’t know what else to do but walk away.
Maybe his parents had the right idea of things after all.
“You don’t have to help with the Holbrooks. It’ll happen or it won’t.”
Who knew? Maybe MME would come crashing down around him, too. Didn’t bad news come in threes? First his parents, then Ben… what else was there but his job?
Then again, he was about to be forty. Fucking forty. If that wasn’t the worst fucking news in the world, he didn’t know what was.
A forty-year-old slut, who’d tried pretending at being a boyfriend. But now he’d seen how that worked out.
Arya moved toward the door. Ben launched himself off the couch.
“Arya, wait!”
But Arya shook his head. It was too late.
He’d fucked it all up. Just like he knew he would.
Maybe he never even had a chance.
“I’ve still got about a million things to do today,” he said, pausing at the door. “We’ve still got a ball to do.”
He kept his head high, his stride even, as he headed back to his car, even though he wanted to run. Even though he wanted to scream, to cry, to curl into a ball and never move again.
He got in his car, swiped at his burning eyes, and pulled out, ignoring Ben framed in his doorway.
This was for the best.
It was.
It was.