29
Ben
By the time they got back home, Ben’s legs felt like someone had scrubbed the skin with steel wool. When he’d first started noticing the prickling, he’d thought that it was a sun burn. That wasn’t a completely illogical conclusion. It was a particularly sunny day, and he hadn’t worn sun screen. But when Sam pointed out that his legs had hives on them, he’d started to grow concerned. The only other time he’d had an allergic reaction was when he was five and the doctor had given him penicillin. They’d quickly given him something to counteract the penicillin, but all in all, it had been a fairly traumatic experience.
He was lucky that Matías had been on hand to help, even if all he’d done was given him a blanket and told him where the antihistamines were.
Sam ushered him into the bedroom, fussing over him like a mother hen. Yet another reason he would make an amazing father. Ben allowed himself to imagine that—a life with Sam. They’d find a nice little house downtown, maybe one they could fix up and put their own stamp on. And then when the time came, they’d find a child to adopt. Ben wasn’t opposed to adopting an older child, even though he knew most people preferred babies.
“You can’t just stand in the middle of the room for the rest of the night.”
Ben blinked, then realized he had been doing just that for the last few minutes, while Sam had gone to get the medicine and a glass of water.
“Come on. Strip down and get in bed. The sheets will feel nice on your legs.”
He allowed Sam to fuss over him, turning the sheets down, pulling his shirt over his head, fluffing the pillows right before Ben lay down on them.
“You’re really good at taking care of people,” he said.
Sam paused his most recent task, closing the blinds. “You think so?”
Ben nodded. “With that bedside manner, you’d be a great nurse or something.”
Huffing out a laugh, Sam wrinkled his nose. “I don’t think I’d like that very much. I’ve always been pretty squeamish. Blood and bed pans wouldn’t be the right fit for me.”
Being a barista was a good fit for him. Sam got to interact with people every day. He got to listen to their stories and give them the caffeine they needed to get through the day. Still, Ben couldn’t help but wonder if there wasn’t something better suited for Sam.
“Have you ever thought about looking for another job outside of the Press Room?” he asked.
Sam’s forehead wrinkled as he furrowed his brow. “Why would I? It’s full time, it comes with benefits, and the crew there are like family.”
There was an expression akin to hurt on Sam’s face, and Ben quickly realized he probably sounded exactly like Sam’s family had when he told then of his job. “I don’t mean it’s a bad job. You’re good at it, and it’s clearly something you like. I just wondered if there was a job you’d always wanted to do, since you were little.”
“Like what?”
“Like…well, when I was little, I knew I wanted to be an artist. I didn’t necessarily know I wanted to be a photographer, but art had always kept me interested. I used to ask for those really crummy art sets for kids for Christmas and my birthday. My parents ended up getting one with watercolors, and I had a blast learning the technique. I’m not too bad at it, but when I found my dad’s old camera, that was when I switched over to photography.”
When he finished his story, he realized that Sam was staring at him. Was he talking too much? Did he have something on his face?
“You’re adorable, you know that, right?” Sam said finally.
Ben scoffed. “I’m a twenty-six-year-old bearded man. I don’t think adorable is the right word for me.”
“Right word or not, you are.” Sam put his hands on his hips, seeming to anticipate that Ben would protest. “You knew what you wanted to do since you were tiny. That’s pretty adorable. I can just imagine little you running around with your watercolors and your brushes. You didn’t have a beard back then, did you?”
Grabbing one of the pillows, Ben chucked it at Sam’s head. “No, you prick. I didn’t have a beard back then. I had an adorable baby face, like everyone else in my family. That’s kind of why I grew the beard.”
“No shit, really? I mean, I know my face is young, but I can’t imagine yours being like that.”
“Have you not seen my Facebook pictures?”
He’d grown the beard out three years earlier, which was before he’d met Sam, but nothing could be hidden on the internet.
Sam walked over and climbed on the bed. “I don’t actually think we’re Facebook friends.”
“Really, dude? I come in your coffee shop every single day, and you can’t even friend me?”
It didn’t hurt now as much as it would have the day before. Now, he knew that Sam had stupidly thought he wasn’t interested. Although Ben was still trying to figure out how he’d convinced himself of that. It wasn’t as though Ben was very subtle.
“I’m an idiot. We’ve established that. Anyway, we’re going to fix that, right?”
Ben peered over his shoulder, watching as he pulled up Facebook on his phone. “Search: Ben Matheny…and…there we go!”
On the table beside him, his phone buzzed, and Ben reached over to grab it. “Oh look. Some guy named Sam Hayward just friended me. I dunno, he looks kind of creepy.”
Sam shoved him gently. “Just accept my friend request, so I can see your baby face.”
“Well if you’re going to be mean about it…”
He accepted the request anyway, and watched as Sam scrolled through his pictures. They were mostly pictures that he’d taken, but every now and again, there would be a picture here or there that had been snapped at an opening reception, or out with friends. And then Sam found the college era pictures.