8
Ben
The question didn’t upset Ben. He’d been expecting it, really. It was only natural that Sam would know as much about him as he knew about Sam. And it was nice to learn more about his crush.
“I didn’t really come out to them,” he answered. “I mean, they always knew that I was different. You know how some people say their parents knew because they played with Barbies or wore their mom’s makeup? That wasn’t me, not that there’s anything wrong with that. I was just a typical ‘boy’ who did typical ‘boy’ things. Except when we played house, I always wanted to play with another boy. And I wanted to kiss other boys. They put two and two together real fast.”
“Did they ever have a problem with it?”
“Maybe when I was younger. They didn’t think I was old enough to make that decision when I was like, five, but they’ve never been anything but supportive.”
That was one thing he had always been grateful for. Even if his parents didn’t understand his goals and dreams, they had never questioned them. Instead, they had done everything in their power to see those dreams come to life. His parents might not have had money to spare, but they had been there emotionally, something it seemed Sam’s parents hadn’t been.
“Now that we’ve got each other’s coming out story, maybe we should focus on our getting together story,” Ben suggested. “What have you told your parents about us?”
He knew that Sam had told his parents at least a bit about his pretend-boyfriend, but having specifics would help in putting together a believable relationship.
“I said we met at the Press Room and that you’re an artist, a photographer more specifically.”
Ben frowned. “That sounds remarkably close to the truth.”
But they weren’t dating. Sam had never so much as shown any interest in him, which was a shame, really. Ben was certain they would make a great couple, and Sam was so attractive it almost hurt.
“The city has tons of artists in it, and I work at the Press Room every day. Is it really that much of a stretch?”
There was something almost defensive in Sam’s tone, so Ben didn’t push any further. After the money issue, he didn’t want to fight about something else that was equally as trivial. All he wanted to do was figure out the kind of person he was supposed to be, to best line up with what Sam had told his family.
“I guess not,” he said. “So did you tell them anything else? Am I supposed to look a certain way? Act a certain way?”
“No, you don’t have to change anything about yourself. I kept it pretty vague when I was talking to them, but I don’t talk to them very often. One phone call every two weeks, for maybe half an hour. And of that half an hour, maybe five minutes would be spent talking about my boyfriend.”
The picture Sam was painting wasn’t a very nice one. His family seemed so fractured and distant. It made Ben even more determined to play the role of the devoted, loving boyfriend to show them just how great their son was, even if he hadn’t followed their plans.
“So, as your boyfriend, I’m going to be expected to know things about you.”
This was the part he was looking forward to—an excuse to find out more about Sam. For all he had been in to the Press Room, there was little he knew about his life. Favorite movies, books, tv shows, food…it was all a mystery.
“We’ll start with an easy one. What’s your favorite color?” Ben continued.
“Green. Dark green, not like a lime. Yours?”
“Peacock feather blue.”
Sam glanced over at him. “Yeah, definitely an artist. I go with ‘dark green’ and you give me fucking ‘peacock feather blue.’”
The corners of Ben’s lips twitched. “It’s a pretty color. Anyway, moving on. Your favorite movie?” He held up a finger. “Wait, don’t tell me. Is it…Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King?”
“How the hell did you know that?”
“Easy. I took a look at your shelves over by your TV. The Lord of the Rings boxes were really worn, so I guessed those were your favorites, and really, who would say anything other than Return of the King?”
Sam frowned. “You looked at my stuff?”
“Yeah, while you were in the bedroom. It’s not like I snooped. It was just what was on your walls. You’re a massive nerd.”
That seemed to ease Sam’s worries, because he laughed. “Yeah, another reason my parents didn’t exactly understand me. They thought I wanted to live in a fantasy world, but really I just wanted to escape theirs. Now for the important question. Elves or dwarves?”
Ben snorted. “Have you seen this beard? Dwarves for sure.”
“Seriously? Come on, man, I’m gonna have to fake-break up with you before we even get there. The elves are awesome.”
“The elves are pretentious! They walk around with their noses in the air. Did you even read The Hobbit? They wouldn’t help the dwarves when a dragon was threatening them!”
“Because they were facing guaranteed death, duh!”
“Duh?” Ben laughed, holding his side. “What are you, twelve?”
“Listen, first you insult elves, and now you say I’m twelve. This…this just isn’t working out.” Sam tried to affect a serious tone, but it was no use. He started laughing before he finished his sentence.
“You can tell your parents it came down to a fight between elves and dwarves. I’m sure they’ll be proud.”
This was what he had been missing over the past few days. That easiness that came with talking to Sam. It was never difficult to carry on a conversation that lasted a couple of hours. Or at least, it hadn’t been until Peter and Faith had suggested him pretending to be Sam’s boyfriend. That ease of conversation was one of the reasons that Ben didn’t tell him the truth—that part of the reason he’d agreed to come was so that maybe Sam could see he was boyfriend material after all. If Sam knew that, their relationship would be awkward and forced, and he couldn’t stand for that to happen.
“Nerdy things aside. How many boyfriends have you had?”
“What?” Sam glanced over at him. “Don’t you think that’s a bit personal?”
“Would you tell your boyfriend how many people you’d been with?”
“Yes.” The word came out through gritted teeth. “I’ve had five boyfriends. Last one ended two years ago when he moved to Florida. We didn’t want to do the long-distance thing, but we’re still friends.”
“Would you get back together with him if it were an option?”
Maybe this question wasn’t exactly a necessary one, but it was something he was curious about. Did he still have feelings for the ex?
Sam shook his head. “He’s engaged, for one, and I don’t think we would have worked in the long run. He liked to travel. Not that I don’t, but he never wanted to be tied down. I kind of like having roots.”
“Me too. I thought I liked to travel. I did some in college, to South America, but I found myself always wanting to come home.”
He’d thought, for a time, that he really did want to move away and become some famous photographer. That was why he’d moved to New Hampshire, for their photography program. He’d even found a job in a gallery in Manchester. But after a bad breakup with his last boyfriend, he’d returned home the previous year. Now, the thought of leaving and finding somewhere else to live was absurd. This was where his family and friends were.
The conversation drifted, then, from favorite food to childhood stories. Sam’s were mostly all the same—constantly undermining his parents’ wishes and getting into trouble for it. At some points, Ben wondered how much of Sam’s portrayal of his family was accurate, but he supposed he would find out for himself soon enough.