After living with him for over two weeks now, I can attest that Ben does not understand the concept of personal space. I moved in at the beginning of March, and it didn’t take long for me to learn that Ben’s boundaries are nonexistent.

At the moment, he hangs over my shoulder, trying to help me install dating apps on my phone. His idea, not mine. Based on his closeness, I might think he was hitting on me, if he wasn’t so hell-bent on getting me a date. Or laid, since dating is verboten in Ben’s world. Serious dating, anyway.

His weight presses against my back, and if I turn my head a little to the right, I can smell his cologne right at the base of his neck. I do not have a thing for Ben, but the serious drought that I’ve been in has my body reacting to just about anything. I shift to the side to keep it from becoming obvious how hot he’s making me. How I’d love to feel that weight pressing down on me in other areas.

“This is the app you want,” Ben says, pointing first to Grindr and then to Tinder. “You don’t want that one unless you want to turn into Crach and find someone to cuddle and have meaningful conversations with.”

Nope. Getting laid would be enough. Well, not laid exactly, because I still want to slowly work my way to that big scary world of dicks in holes, but mutual bjs or handies? Yes, please.

Behind me, someone shouts, “Crach became a thing. I so started that.”

The commotion of new arrivals to our apartment causes Ben to stand, and I immediately feel the loss, even though logically I know I should be relieved.

When Craig first mentioned Ben needing a roommate, I thought it would be a perfect match. I needed to get away from my previous roommates. He was willing to lower the rent so I could afford to move in with him. Kismet and all that. Until I realized that Ben was six foot five inches of handsome, hilarious, and very handsy man. My poor dick is very confused by the mixed signals, even if my head is not.

Ben, bless him, is a bit of a walking disaster. He needs a little extra help sorting out his everyday life. And I am still trying to prove to my family and friends, and even freaking Ted, that I am not a hot mess. The last thing I want is to attach myself to someone in even greater need of a personalized TED talk than me. Sigh. And now all the Ted thoughts have me perking back up. If only.

I give a polite nod hello as the couch dips when Craig and Mal, another of Craig’s friends, occupy the cushions beside me. Zach and his cousin Parker take the futon, my only contribution to the living room decor. Their conversation captures the attention of the whole room, other than me. Ben’s position at my back has become careless as he listens to them, fingers that stopped pointing at my phone now absentmindedly caressing my neck. It isn’t until Ben steps away that my thoughts are clear enough to follow the conversation.

“Parker, how could you keep this from me? I thought we were like brothers.” I can’t see him, but Ben’s tone clearly indicates that he’s full of shit. And I think he’s talking about Parker getting together with Mal. So now, if I’m understanding the dynamics correctly, there are two couples in our little group, leaving Ben and me the odd men out. Perfect.

“God, my apartment really is cursed. Be careful, Kieran, or you’ll be next. Thankfully, I’ve been inoculated,” Ben says.

When the oven timer goes off, Ben invites everyone to stay for dinner and hang out as late as they want since it’s spring break. Of course, he tells them all that I made lasagna. I think to Ben, opening a box and sticking it in the oven truly counts as cooking. But since no one else lives in that fantasy world, I have to come clean.

“Kieran heated up a box of frozen lasagna, so don’t get too excited. But Ben’s right. There’s plenty. Although some of us have work tomorrow.”

Yet another area of my life where I feel like a failure. After that night in the office, Alexander refused to work with me, and I was transferred to one of the lead architects who was in need of an assistant. Despite it being a bit of a demotion, I can’t complain. My new boss is kind, patient, and doesn’t hit on me over the blueprinter. God, even now, just thinking about that night has me burning in shame and embarrassment. I hardly ever see Alexander anymore, except for staff meetings, but the options for upward mobility with a company where the boss hates you are limited.

“Are you all signed up for the tournament this week?” Craig asks, pinning each of us with a raised brow. Hosting a spring break gaming tournament at the store was Craig’s idea, and I feel bad that I can’t be more supportive. But there was no way Alexander was giving me time off for it, and I don’t know my new boss well enough yet to ask.

Neither Mal nor Parker appear to have an interest in video games, and Zach looks guilty, but says, “You know I would if I was any good. But I’d just get up there and make a fool out of myself.”

“I’m signed up for the final competition,” Ben says while pulling out plates and utensils. “I might also sign up for the ‘Old School’ day too. Show the kids a thing or two.” Right. Because Ben’s so old.

After dinner, Zach and I stand side by side in the kitchen, me washing, him drying. “You’ve known Ben the longest. Has he ever had a serious boyfriend?”

“Nope. He’s the biggest player I’ve ever met. Which is kind of funny, since he’s also the biggest sweetheart I’ve ever met. Except Craig, of course. You’d think the two things would be mutually exclusive in a single person, but that’s Ben. Ever the conundrum.”

“But he accepts that he needs someone to take care of him.”

Zach laughs so hard, he almost drops the plate. Which is plastic and would be fine, but still. “Oh brother. At least he’s at a place that has a cafeteria, so when he forgets his lunch he’s covered. So how often have you had to mother him?”

“I don’t. I can barely get my own self to work.”

“I’m surprised he’s still alive.” Zach laughs. “He’s funny. He’ll show you more love than you’re capable of withstanding as long as you fall into his mental category of friend or brother. You’d think, given his love of musicals, that he’d be yearning for romance, but it’s kind of the opposite. I think he’s scared of it.”

“He loves musicals?”

Zach does drop a plate this time, although it’s only back into the soapy water. His turn is in slow motion, for dramatic effect, I’m guessing. “He hasn’t made you watch them yet?”

“No. Should he have?”

Zach looks back into the living room where Craig and Ben are fighting for world domination in Monster Hunter: World, and Mal and Parker are quietly snuggled together, oblivious to everyone else.

“Musicals are usually how Ben copes. If he’s had a bad day, or needs to relax, he puts on a musical. At least he used to.” The furrow of Zach’s brow lets me know that he thinks this sudden shift from Ben’s security blanket is worth the worry.

“I’ll ask him about it. Let him know he doesn’t have to stop watching them on my account. I have other shit I need to talk to him about anyway.” I can see it now: the fun future talk Ben and I are going to have about musicals and inappropriate touching. I can’t wait.

* * *

“Ben, I need to talk to you about something,” I say, grabbing the remote and pausing the goofy show about metal detectors we’ve been watching since the others left.

His brow furrows at my serious tone, and he drapes an arm around my shoulder, scooting closer to me on the couch. “Sure, man. What is it?”

“It’s this,” I say, taking his arm from my shoulders and dropping it back in his lap. “You know that we’re just friends. And I know that we’re just friends. But every time you do shit like that, my dick gets way too happy about it.”

Ben frowns like I kicked a puppy. “I can’t help that I’m touchy-feely.”

“I know, I do. But dude. The last person I was with was Tiffany Hudson my sophomore year of college. And it was not very successful.” I turn, putting even more space between us, and pull up my legs to sit cross-legged facing him. “I’ve finally come to terms with being gay but haven’t gotten to do anything about it yet. And you are killing me.”

“Fine,” he huffs like it’s such a bother to not be able to touch me. Yeah, and the bastard comes home with a different person each weekend too. I’d be totally handsy with everyone too, if I wasn’t having to be so, well, self-handsy. “I’d offer to be friends with benefits, but I saw the way you were looking at the disgusting duos tonight. Like that’s all you could ever want out of life. I am not going to do that to you.”

“Thank you,” I say and relax back into the cushions. “By the way, what’s the deal with you and musicals? Zach seemed surprised that you hadn’t made me watch any yet.”

“Give me your phone,” Ben says with his palm extended. “We are going to get you on Tinder instead of Grindr, since you’re all feelings and shit, and get you some D.”

“Are you avoiding the question?”

“Not at all. I just haven’t been in a musical mood lately. Now do you want my help or not?”

Half an hour later, I’ve started to receive all sorts of messages, many of which make me feel like I need a shower. Do these types of pick-up lines ever really work? Seriously, the least cringy and most polite one is from someone named BlueJay17. And all it says is, “Hey there. Cute pic. Love the freckles.”

Ben insisted on taking a shirtless pic, and I insisted it be from the neck down.

GameBoi22: Thanks. Your pic’s cute too.

The GameBoi part of my username is self-explanatory. The twenty-two is because when I tried to put my age, which is twenty-five, Ben told me I’d attract more guys if it looked like my age was younger. I’m not sure how I feel about that.

If his picture is anywhere near accurate, he’s a bleached blond with floppy bangs and a bright, wide smile. He looks like a sweetheart, but probably not my sweetheart. Even with as lonely as I’ve been, his boyish good looks do nothing for the limp dick in my pants.

BlueJay17: <3 Thank you! My hair is in serious need of a root touch-up, so it’s a slightly old pic.

“Wait a minute.” Ben snatches the phone from my hands. “I know him. Total bottom.”

“But he says he’s vers.”

“That’s what bottoms say when they don’t want to appear like they’re total bottoms,” Ben says. It seems to me that being able to take a big dick like a pro would be a bonus on a site like this, but what do I know? I want to argue the point, but he doesn’t give me a chance. “But he is a nice guy. He would definitely be a way to ease into the dating scene. Not too clingy. Lots of fun.”

GameBoi22: Well I think it looks great.

“If that’s how you flirt, no wonder you haven’t had any action in years.”

“Hey. Just because I’m not feeling him doesn’t mean we couldn’t be friends.”

Ben clucks his tongue at me with a worried look. “Oh sweetie, I’m throwing you to the wolves, aren’t I?”