2
Ben
At Faith’s question, Ben quickly looked up from his phone. “Hmm?”
Surely they hadn’t noticed him taking pictures. Not that it would be a big deal if they had. He was a photographer; he could pass it off as nothing more than getting some interior shots. His last picture was exactly that. It had captured the feel of the place—the rustic wood floors, white tile walls, the copper bar tops. The entire thing had a rather hipster feel to it. Only, in the middle of the shot was Sam, just as quite a few of the other shots had him in them. He didn’t take pictures of Sam often, and he always deleted them later, but he took enough that if Sam were to find them, he would definitely be surprised.
“I was telling Sam that his parents had to let him go sometime,” Faith said.
“’Course they do. My parents let me go when I turned eighteen.”
“Really?” Sam’s voice was…concerned? That couldn’t be right. There was hardly anything to be concerned about.
“Yeah. I have six younger brothers and sisters, and a teacher and a truck driver only make so much.”
He didn’t talk about his family much, especially not at the Press Room. This was his haven. He came to have a good drink and some lighthearted conversation with the cute baristas. The last thing he needed was the reminder of his rocky childhood butting in where it didn’t belong.
“Jesus, six brothers and sisters? I thought having one was bad,” Sam muttered.
Ben had heard stories about Sam’s older sister, Ambra, and she was definitely the favorite child. While his parents might not have been able to give him everything he wanted as a kid, at least they had never clearly had favorites.
“It isn’t terrible,” Ben said with a shrug. “My littlest sister is about to graduate middle school. She’s got a real eye for photography, so I’m trying to teach her what I can.”
‘What he could’ was more than most, and he knew that. He’d been fortunate enough to land a small scholarship to Southern New Hampshire State University, where he’d studied photography. It wasn’t the best photography program in the country, but he’d come out the other side with a job working with the Wechsler Art Center and a space in their gallery.
“I think that’s sweet,” Faith said. “My little brother just likes playing with Legos. Who knows, maybe he’ll turn out to be some kind of architect or something.” She rubbed her bicep and winced.
“New tattoo?” Ben asked.
“Yeah, I got it yesterday.”
“Ooh, lemme see.”
The tattoos that ran along Faith’s forearm were interlinking flowers that looked as though someone had painted them on her skin. She rolled her sleeve up to her shoulder to reveal a watercolor peacock feather, done in bright blues and greens. It wrapped around her bicep, swirling in places. But the coolest part was the metallic gold ink that splattered in places.
“Dude, that looks awesome,” Sam said, peering over Faith’s shoulder.
When he’d first started frequenting the Press Room, Ben had assumed that Sam and Faith were a couple, based on how close they were with each other. Constantly touching, teasing, and picking at one another. He hadn’t allowed himself to hope that Sam was single, or interested in men for that matter. But then he mentioned going out on a disastrous date with a bartender named Jayden and some of that hope had been rekindled. It wasn’t nearly enough to do anything with, though. Flirting was one thing—he flirted with everyone he met—but the thought of actually pursuing Sam terrified him.
“I’m going to go grab more cups from the back. Ben, you wanna join me?” Faith asked.
The question was abrupt and took Ben by surprise. Normally, customers weren’t allowed in the storage closet, but Ben was an exception. Even Peter, the owner, had let him into the back before. Still, grabbing a stack of plastic cups was hardly a two-person job, which meant Faith had something she wanted to talk to him about.
“Sure thing.”
He slid off his stool and followed Faith through the door to the side of the counter. She shut it behind her and turned to face him, hands on her hips.
“Okay, when are you going to ask him out?”
Ben blinked. “Excuse me?
“Sam. When are you going to ask him out? You’ve been coming in every single day for nearly a year, ordering the same drink—which you insist tastes different when he makes it—and you stay for hours on end when he’s here. Don’t think we don’t notice the difference when he’s gone.”
Ben spluttered, trying to come up with some kind of denial, but he had nothing. Faith was right. That didn’t matter, of course, since their relationship wasn’t progressing any time soon.
“I’m not going to ask him out,” he said finally.
Faith crossed her arms. “Why the fuck not?”
There were more reasons than Ben could count on one hand, so he started with the most obvious. “He’s not interested.”
“And how do you know that?”
“I don’t,” Ben admitted, grudgingly. “But if he isn’t, then that leaves me in an awkward position. I don’t want to lose him as a friend and if he doesn’t feel the same way, then I’m worried that would happen. Plus, I really don’t want to give up my daily visits. I kind of like coming here.”
His voice was light, quite the opposite to how he felt. Coming to the Press Room was one of the highlights of his day, and not just because Sam was there. Sam, Faith, Peter, and the rest of the baristas had become friends. They’d shown up at his gallery showings, and Peter had even bought a couple of his photographs to go in his living room.
Faith sighed and ran her hands through her cropped hair. “Look, I can’t make you ask him out. But I can tell you he’s single and he talks about you when you’re not here. And when you come in, he looks…brighter. Like his day just got better.”
“He talks about me? What does he say?”
“Nope.” Faith shook her head. “If you want to know, you have to ask him out.”
That wasn’t a fair trade. Asking Sam out was too big of a risk. “Fine. I guess I’ll never know.”
“Guess you won’t.”
She grabbed a stack of cups and pushed past him, back out into the café. As they walked back over to the counter, Sam raised an eyebrow.
“You two need some time alone?” Was that a hint of jealousy in Sam’s voice? No, surely Ben was imagining it.
“You know it,” Faith said slyly.
It wasn’t like Sam had a reason to be upset. The idea that they were having an affair was laughable. Faith had been happily dating her boyfriend, Andre, for longer than Ben had known her.
“We were talking about the upcoming exhibit. It’s all in black and white, with spot color in different places.” There. A believable lie and a hint of an invitation, not that Sam ever came.
Ben tried not to be insulted by that. Of all the baristas who worked at the Press Room, Sam was the only one who had never been to a single exhibit. That was all the proof he needed that Sam wasn’t interested in him. No, it was better that he not make the first move. At least this way, he still had Sam’s friendship.
“I need to head out,” he said, grabbing his bag from the stool where he’d set it.
Ben slung it over his shoulder and walked to the door. He put his hand on the knob, then paused, noticing a plastic cup in the trash. Scowling, he picked it up and placed it in the recycling bin, then walked out.