Ben

“You never try so hard to look hot when you and I are going on a date,” Max comments.

“Oh my God, I wonder why,” Ben answers absentmindedly, finishing to button his shirt. “Plus, when we go out, I don’t call that a date.”

“That breaks my heart. Being your number two.”

Ben rolls his eyes at his best friend. “When I started dating Paul, you said, and those were your words, that you were fine becoming my number two. Even though you’re the only person numbering your friends, you know that, right?”

“First of all, I’m sure I’m not. Second, I don’t even need to number my friends to know you’re my number one. And finally, that weren’t my words. If you’re going to quote me, you need to do it right.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not saying that.”

“Oh, so, you do remember.” Then Max takes a falsely nostalgic tone. “That’s because back then I was your number one, and you listened to me.”

“You’re tiring,” Ben says, sitting next to Max. “Like an untrained puppy.”

“You love it,” Max replies taking his phone out. Ben smiles. He does sort of love it.

“You’ve been on your phone all day,” Ben notices. It’s unusual for Max. He is always pointing out that it’s only fine to be on your phone when you’re alone, but that it’s rude when socializing. He always says it jokingly, but Ben knows that he’s actually quite serious about that. “Who are you texting?”

“Sarah.”

“From the lunch table?”

“It’s the only Sarah I know.”

Ben doesn’t know how he feels about that. From what he knows, Max has been crushing on Sarah since elementary school or something but Sarah never seemed interested. They did spend some time together the night of the sleepover, and she seemed to enjoy it, but she did not look like a girl falling in love. Or even developing a slight crush.

“Are you two a thing, now?” he asks, cautiously.

“I hear your tone, you know,” Max says. “What’s your problem with Sarah?”

“I don’t have a problem with Sarah. It’s just… out of the blue.”

Max looks up from his phone, and his face startles Ben. There is no trace of cheekiness or sarcasm. There isn’t any outrageous fake emotion. There isn’t even a smile. He just looks serious. A bit tired too, maybe. It’s a look Ben has never seen before, and he doesn’t like it. It looks like Max is giving up.

“I know she doesn’t like me like that,” he says.

Ben could lie. He could try to cheer his best friend up. But what would be the point? Hurt him even more when things crumble down? Plus, he can’t lie to Max. Not because of some moral code he has, but because Max can see through his BS every time. So he simply asks “Then why are you pursuing it?”

“For the one percent chance I could change her mind.”

That’s fair enough. If Paul wasn’t already in love with him, Ben would want to be near him anyway. He would do everything he could to seduce him. He would even let Paul toy with his emotions just to be able to stare into those crazy silver eyes of his.

“And are you making progress?”

“No idea. She’s so moody that on the same day she can make me feel like her favorite person and her worst enemy.”

“It sounds confusing.”

Max shrugs. “It’s worth it, though. When she smiles, and it’s because of me, I feel like I’ve accomplished something.”

Ben never, ever, put Max into the ‘cute’ category before. But that was insanely cute. Max shakes his head slightly, like he’s snapping out of it. Message received. This part of the conversation is over.

Max looks at a book on Ben’s desk.

“What language is that?”

“French.”

“Since when do you speak French?”

“I really don’t. I take Spanish.”

“So why do you have a book in French?”

“It’s for Paul.”

“I didn’t know Paul spoke French.”

“I’ve seen his grades. He doesn’t.”

“Carter… you’re driving me crazy. Why would you offer Paul a book in a language none of you speak?”

Ben shrugs. “It’s a long story.”

“Fine. Keep your French secrets.”

“I can only share with my number one,” Ben teases.

“Okay, Mr. Sassy-Pants. I let you off the first time, but since you’re being cocky, my exact words were ‘I’m fine with York being your number one. As long as he sucks your dick.’ And I know that you two aren’t getting some dick action yet.”

“Alright. I’ll take the bait. How would you know that?”

“I’m your number two. You would have told me.”

Probably. “Not necessarily.”

“Then I guess I know because I’m creepy enough to notice that your body language with each other hasn’t changed yet since you two got together.”

Ben actually believes that behind his superficial façade, Max pays enough attention to people’s behavior to notice things like that. Ben wouldn’t even know what to look at to read someone’s relationship with someone else from their body language. Unless they were really obvious. Maybe he’s just a very obvious virgin.

“Benjamin, you’re spiraling. I can see it on your eyebrows.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Should I start calling you ‘Babe’?”

Ben shows Max his middle finger. Max laughs and looks at his phone again. “Okay, time for me to go. I wouldn’t want to make you late for your date. After all, tonight might be the night Paul becomes your number one.” And he wriggles his eyebrows.

Looking at it objectively, Ben should hate Max. He is everything he hates in white jock boys. Thank God there is more to the boy.

Mrs. York opens the door and a genuinely happy smile lights her face when she sees Ben. He is thankful that their parents support their relationship. Things would be so much trickier otherwise.

“Ben, hi!”

“Hello, Alison.” Ben learned. She doesn’t have to remind him to call her by her first name anymore. “Is Paul here?”

“Of course, he is. He is in his room.” She doesn’t even call for Paul. She just lets Ben climb the stairs and knock on Paul’s door which flies open almost instantly and a really smiley Paul greets Ben.

“Hi, Babe,” Paul says putting a kiss on Ben’s lips.

“Hi, Love.”

Paul sighs. “How come that the name I got for you comes from a joke, and the one you got for me comes from the most noble feeling of all?”

Ben kisses Paul again. “That’s because you’re the cynic, remember?”

Paul pulls Ben closer and the kiss is starting to get steamy. But they have plans to go out, the door is open, and Paul’s entire family is home. So Ben breaks the kiss, keeping his hands on Paul’s face for an extra moment.

“I have something for you,” Ben says, moving away to hand Paul the paper bag he brought.

“What’s that for?”

Ben shrugs. “For being the best boyfriend.”

“Then you should keep it,” Paul answers with a wink. Ben rolls his eyes, but he actually loves it when Paul gets cheesy like that.

Paul gets the book out and he looks surprised.

“It’s the first Harry Potter,” Ben explains. “In French.”

“Yeah… I got that. I know I suck at French, but it’s literally written Harry Potter on it. But… why?”

“Do you remember on our first date? You got me the British English version of Harry Potter. When I saw that book, it made me think of it, and you, and… I don’t know. It was an impulse buy, I guess.”

“Where did you find that?” Paul asks, visibly touched by the gift, and Ben is proud, like every time he can create an emotion in Paul.

“Online,” he answers, and he wishes he could have a more romantic answer. Paul blushes as if he regrets asking a stupid question.

“I can’t believe you got me something from Europe,” Paul comments.

“I didn’t,” Ben says, worried that he will disappoint Paul. “I’m pretty sure it comes from Canada.”

Paul sighs. “One day, I promise, I will stop looking like a fool in front of my boyfriend.” Ben laughs. There is something so precious about the way Paul goes through life. “Okay, we need to go,” Paul says. “Because I really want to kiss you again, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop this time.”

After leaving the restaurant, they still have time before driving back, so they decide to take a walk through the city. Enjoy the evening now that it is finally getting warmer. Their previous dates have been going well, and they grew in confidence. They are still not doing massive PDAs, but they are walking holding hands.

Ben feels free, being able to do that. Being able to touch Paul creates a bubble around them. Ben makes a joke and Paul laughs. He loves making him laugh. Paul is the funny one, so amusing him always feels like a win.

Ben is just happy. Right now, but also more generally since Paul stormed into his life.

Ben’s subconscious understands that something is wrong before he can put his finger on it. He starts scanning the crowd, and he sees, maybe 500 feet away, a group of students. Five of them. They are older than Ben and Paul. They might be in college. They are wearing sports jackets. They look like football players, but one of them has a bat so they most likely are in a baseball team.

The thing that makes Ben uncomfortable is the way they are looking at Paul and him. They are laughing, but it doesn’t look like a happy laugh. One of them is sort of pointing at them and the taller one is whispering something in the ear of the boy who is standing the straightest. Probably the team captain.

Ben wants to turn around. He wants to take his hand out of Paul’s. He wants to stop and stand here until they go away. But he won’t do any of that. He might be wrong, and he doesn’t want to let paranoia rule his life.

And if he’s right, he refuses to let himself be a victim.

Ben doesn’t mind being teased. He doesn’t mind being called names. He believes that words are just that, and that they only have the power we give them. If he is honest, though, he knows that apart from that one asshole at the basketball game, he hasn’t really had to put that theory to the test. People have left him alone in school. Maybe because he wasn’t the first to come out, maybe because he is doing well in a sports team and that’s viewed as a positive masculine trait. But he also knows he won’t dodge it forever. At some point, it will be coming. Now or later, it doesn’t matter. He’s ready. But on the other hand, he really wants to protect Paul. Ben feels like he could handle anything that would come his way, but he feels useless and powerless whenever something happens to Paul, however small.

Before he can decide what to do, the group is walking towards them. He feels Paul’s fingers tighten. He’s noticed them too.

Ben looks around. The street isn’t exactly empty, but it’s not like there is a crowd either. Would anyone intervene if it were to go badly?

As soon as the boys are close enough to be heard without shouting, the one that seems to be the team captain says: “Good evening, girls.”

Ben’s pragmatic brain is disappointed. He would have liked his first bashing to be more creative. Paul completely froze next to him, and Ben instinctively shifts his body slightly between Paul and the group of boys. “We don’t want any trouble,” Ben says calmly.

“Then, I guess you shouldn’t be looking for it,” the other boy replies. “Look, I’m an open-minded guy. I couldn’t care less what you do in the privacy of your bedroom. But in the street, where everyone can see, it’s a different issue. There are children here. They don’t need to see two fags holding hands.”

The word makes Ben angrier than he anticipated. He still doesn’t mind being targeted by name-calling. He didn’t mind being called that during the game. But this feels different. He refuses to let anyone sully his relationship with Paul. “I don’t think bullying is a better thing to display,” he answers. He knows, he understands, that now is not the time to be cheeky. But it’s too late to take the words back.

“You think you’re funny, cocksucker?” another boy asks. This one sounds angry. Inebriated, maybe. This one would love the opportunity to get into a fight, Ben thinks.

Five to two. Five to one, really. Ben hopes that if one of them starts a fight, Paul will have the common sense to run. Fast. Ben is fast and athletic. But they probably are too. There is no way he’ll win this. But maybe if he throws the first punch…