36
Ben
The contrast between the drive to the Hamptons and the drive back was almost laughable. An hour and a half in, and Ben hadn’t said a word. He had been serious when he told Sam he didn’t want him to ever speak to him again, once they got home. To ensure there was as little discussion as possible, Ben had shoved his earbuds into his ears as soon as he’d climbed in the car, pulling up his Road Trip playlist on Spotify. He had made it with the intention of playing it on the drive up, something to share with Sam so they had something to talk about. Instead, here he was, listening to it alone.
The initial shock of the lie had faded into hurt and anger. To his credit, Sam hadn’t tried to talk to him. Hadn’t tried to tell him that he was sorry or come up with excuses. Instead, he stared straight ahead at the road, allowing Ben his silence.
Except, after an hour and a half, Ben had shuffled through most of his playlist, and he was itching to talk. To shout, if he were being honest. He wanted to scream and rage and make Sam feel as shitty as Sam had reduced him to feeling.
That thought alone nearly brought fresh tears to his eyes. Their friendship wasn’t supposed to be like this. Even if they weren’t together, their friendship had always been light and happy, with that flirty undercurrent running through it. Sam wasn’t supposed to have betrayed him the way he had. He wasn’t supposed to have lied—but then, they had lied from the start by telling his family they were together. Maybe this was their comeuppance. The universe punishing them for lying to Sam’s family. If this was the case, the universe was a real bitch.
A day and a half. A full day and a half they’d had together, being with one another, exploring the possibilities. Ben had felt sure he was falling in love with Sam. It would have been so easy, especially since—if he were being honest with himself—he was already half in love with him when they started. Ah hell. He jerked the earbud from his ear.
“I want to hate you.”
“I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” Sam said, never diverting his attention from the road.
His voice sounded thick, as though he were holding back tears. That only made staying mad that much harder, but the memory of Sam’s family staring at him, the expression in their eyes changing from acceptance and pleasantry to confusion and surprise fueled him. He knew what he would have seen next, had he stayed in the room: derision. He’d seen it enough as a child, when all the other kids showed up with their brand name clothes and their expensive school supplies, when he was wearing last year’s jeans from K-Mart. As though money made anyone better than anyone else.
What hurt the most was that he thought Sam’s family had liked him because of who he was as a person. Because he was kind of funny, or because he loved one of their own. Sure, those things probably didn’t hurt, but in the end, it had more than likely boiled down to money. His stomach rolled at the thought.
“Pull over.”
“Ben, you can’t—”
“I said pull over!”
The car had barely made it to a stop before Ben flung the door open and pulled his seat belt off. Climbing out of the car, he walked to the edge of the asphalt and took a deep breath. The air held the first hint of a chill, and he relished the crisp scent of the pine trees that surrounded them. Behind him, cars whizzed past, heading god only knew where.
He closed his eyes and felt fresh tears seep underneath his lashes. For one small moment, he had thought that he had found someone who could see past everything he wasn’t—cool, well-dressed, rich—and care for him for who he was. Sure, Sam had made up the lie before he had any intention of taking Ben, but the fact still remained, when he imagined a life with Ben, he imagined him being rich. Well known. It wasn’t enough that he was an artist. That he loved what he did. He needed to be highly regarded. Maybe that was the real reason Sam had never come to any of his galleries. They weren’t good enough for him.
The loose asphalt crunched to the left of him, and he stiffed as he felt Sam approach. He didn’t open his eyes. If he stood still enough and quiet enough, maybe Sam would go away.
“Hey.”
Right. That only worked on wild animals. Ben didn’t respond.
“Listen, I know I fucked up. I know I did. I never should have lied. To anyone. Not to you, not to my family, no one.”
“There’s no need to state the obvious,” Ben snapped.
Here it came. The groveling, the apology, the excuses. Everything he didn’t want to hear. As much as the silence annoyed him, this was even worse. Sam would ask for forgiveness, and at the moment, Ben didn’t feel like forgiving him. Whether he’d meant to or not, Sam had hurt him. He had taken his life and twisted it to fit his own needs, without ever considering how Ben might be affected. Even if the family was never supposed to meet him, it was a low blow.
Beside him, Sam sighed. “I know. You’re right. I don’t know what to say to make this better.”
Ben gritted his teeth, then forced himself to take a few breaths. He wasn’t going to break down. They still had two hours left on the road together.
“Honestly, right now, there’s nothing that you can say to make it better. You fucked up. Admitting it doesn’t change the fact that you took my life and played around with it because I wasn’t interesting enough.”
“That isn’t—”
“Yes, it is, Sam! Don’t try to tell me that I’m wrong.”
He wasn’t going to let another person influence the reality of the situation. Not again. When Sam didn’t say anything, he looked over and found Sam looking at him patiently, as though waiting for him to continue. So he did.
“You keep saying you didn’t know me, but you did. I’d been coming to the Press Room for six months before you ever told your family about me. Do you know how much we talked about during that time?”
“A lot,” Sam mumbled.
“Yes. A whole fucking lot. I might not have known your favorite food yet, or that you preferred Wes Anderson to Tarantino and elves to dwarves, but I still knew enough. And so did you.”
At that point, he had known about Sam’s poor relationship with his parents. He’d known that he didn’t have many friends outside of the Press Room crew, and that he had gone to school to study business management. But it wasn’t just about his knowledge of Sam. Sam had known, then, that he wasn’t rich, no matter how much he tried to say he had just filled in the details. And he certainly knew that Ben hadn’t sold any of his works to the governor.
“I know,” Sam said. “I know all of that. And if I could go back and take everything back, I would. I wouldn’t have lied to anyone. But I did lie, and I’m trying to make it right.”
Ben had to clench his hands into fists and take a deep breath to keep from shaking Sam. “The only reason you’re trying to make amends is because you got found out. If it hadn’t been brought up, if we had made it through lunch and the pool party without anyone saying anything, you never would have told me, would you?”
He didn’t need an answer, but he wanted to hear Sam say it anyway. He needed it.