5
light breeze blows through the French doors that lead to the small balcony of Ben’s Encino apartment. Stretched out on the floor, head propped against a suede bean bag, he’s reading the newspaper when his phone buzzes and a text message from Alex appears on the home screen, asking if he prefers fish or chicken.
‘Chicken. I don’t do fish. Allergies.’
After a moment ‘okay’ and a smile flash back on his screen.
‘You home or out? Need a pick up?’
‘Home. Went for a run. See you soon.’
‘You’re a freak. What can I bring?’
‘You. Bottle of wine, maybe?’
‘Already covered. Red or white?’
‘Red.’
Ben sends back a reply and tosses the phone down. They’ve spent the last three weekends together, sometimes at Alex’s place, sometimes at Ben’s, and it’s starting to feel normal. Familiar.
Alex intrigues him. The chestnut hair that tumbles over his collar and the hazel eyes are distracting, especially when a gentle tug on the former makes the latter flutter shut and their owner moan, and so are those damned dimples that appear every time Alex smiles. Then, of course, there’s the smile itself – wide, open, and honest. Ben has caught himself trying to say things to make Alex smile just so to see it.
He’s happy to admit there’s more to it than just physical attraction too. Alex is a puzzle. Reserved, shy, easily disconcerted – damn, Ben finds his blushing a turn on – but when he’s relaxed, he’s warm and has a subtle, dry sense of humor that keeps taking Ben by surprise. Although he seems happy to let Ben take the lead in most things, and it’s rare for him to initiate sex, there’s nothing truly submissive about him and he is far from virginal. There are no hints of past relationships in his apartment or on his Facebook profile that Ben has been able to see and there’s been no change to his relationship status. Despite that, Ben has the distinct impression the attraction is mutual and whatever is driving Alex’s reticence, Ben likes him. A lot. His phone buzzes again and he smiles as he read the text.
‘It’s okay, I showered.’
#
It isn’t the first time Alex has cooked for them, but it is the first time Alex’s kitchen has smelled like heaven. Rich odors of garlic and tomato and chicken fill the apartment and Ben spots two loaves of crusty bread resting under a cloth on the end of the bench. The bread alone makes his mouth water and he tries not to drool while he uncorks the wine.
“That smells incredible,” he says, handing a glass to Alex. “What the hell is it?”
“Chicken cacciatore,” Alex says, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. Ben admires the ripple of muscle beneath the U2 tee shirt as Alex hefts a heavy bottomed pot filled with water on to the stove top next to the cast-iron pan from which the amazing smell is escaping.
“Who taught you to cook?” he asks.
“My brother. He’s a chef. He taught me the basics.”
“That doesn’t smell basic to me,” Ben says.
“Sounds and smells fancier than it is. And Matt made the bread, I just finished it in the oven.”
“A chef huh?” The corners of Ben’s mouth twitch up in a smile. “Maybe I should meet big bro’.”
“Uh huh,” Alex says, rolling his eyes. “He’s straight. And married.”
Ben grins, pleased with the defensiveness, and slips a hand around Alex’s waist to pull him closer.
“Can’t win ‘em all, I guess,” he says with a smirk, “I’ll just have to make do.”
Alex elbows him in the side and invites him to get fucked.
“Well, maybe after dinner,” he says, and lands a kiss on Alex’s cheek.
“Yeah, good luck with that.” Alex grins and dodges a second kiss as he drops pasta into the now boiling water.
#
The air in the bedroom is warm; damp sheets are kicked to the foot of the bed. Ben combs his fingers through Alex’s hair.
“That was good,” he says and kisses the top of Alex’s head, liking the feel of him against his chest.
“So, can I assume you’re no longer interested in my brother’s skills in the kitchen?”
“Kitchen or bedroom, only skills I’m interested in are yours, baby,” Ben murmurs and runs his fingers down Alex’s back. After a minute, he realizes Alex is silent.
“Alex?” he asks.
“Mmmmmmm?”
“You okay?”
Alex sighs and sit up; pushes his hair away from his eyes.
“A month ago, we were at U2.” His voice is quiet.
Ben sits up and leans forward so he can see Alex’s face.
“Going too fast?”
Color rushes into Alex’s cheeks and he licks his lips.
“I don’t know. I like you ...”
“But?” Ben’s heart pounds; he isn’t sure he wants to hear whatever Alex is going to say next.
“Ben, I like you,” Alex says, “It’s just ... I don’t really know what’s happening here.”
He draws a small circle in the air between them and Ben rubs his hand over the small of Alex’s back but remains quiet. Eventually Alex takes a breath and speaks again; his fingers playing over the leather on his wrist.
“I don’t date much. I don’t really do relationships. I ...”
Crap. Has he misread Alex’s signals that badly?
“Okay,” Ben says withdrawing his hand. “So maybe I’ve been reading more into this than you intended. Sorry, I can head home ...”
Alex turns on him, frowning and shaking his head.
“No, that’s not what I mean,” he says. “It’s just complicated.”
“Look I understand...”
“No you fucking don’t, okay?” Alex snaps. Ben recoils; he’s never seen Alex angry and it feels like a slap in the face. “You don’t understand. It’s been four weeks, okay? And I do like you. A lot. But this is … unusual for me. It’s not something I do normally, it’s not something I can do normally, it’s new for me. And I’m not sure I know how to.”
“Not sure you know how to what?” Ben asks, confused.
“Deal with whatever this is,” Alex says.
Trembling and breathless, he leans forward, long hair forming a curtain around his face. Silence floats between them, heavy and thick, until finally Ben slides his arm back around Alex’s waist and rests his chin on his shoulder.
“Alex, you don’t have to do anything about it,” he says. “It’s been four weeks. Why don’t we just see what happens?”
He noses the curls up and nuzzles the back of Alex’s neck.
“Why is this something you can’t do?”
Instead of answering, Alex pulls on his boxers, and leaves the room. Ben scrubs at his face – what the fuck just happened? Ten minutes ago, he’d been in the throes of a mind shattering orgasm and now he feels like he’s been hit by a truck. Sighing he finds his jeans and goes in search of Alex undecided if he wants to strangle him or kiss him. Maybe both.
#
Ben finds him in the kitchen trying to take the top off a bottle of water. Without a word, he takes the bottle, twists the cap off and holds the bottle out. Perched against the edge of the bench, he clears his throat.
“Alex, what’s wrong? Come on, talk to me,” he licks his lips, considering his words. “Is this about … look I’m clean. I get tested regularly and everything has always been negative –”
Alex snatches the bottle from him, eyes wide and annoyed.
“What? No, that’s not it.”
“Well, tell me what it is. Talk to me Alex.”
“That is not the problem. Trust me. We’re all good on that front.” Alex closes his eyes and gulps some water from the bottle. “But thank you for telling me.”
“Then what is it?” Ben pushes away from the bench and reaches for Alex; pulls him closer. Chest to chest like that, Ben needs to tip his head back to look in Alex’s eyes, a novelty he’s still not used to. “Alex, you can trust me.”
“Ben,” Alex let out a ragged breath, “it’s comp-”
“Complicated, yeah, you said.” Ben leans forward and presses his lips to Alex’s. Smiles and takes a breath. “Listen, whatever we’ve got going here, I kind of like it and um, well, I’m not seeing anybody else, so you know... Alex, we can figure it out. I mean, if you want to figure it out.”
Alex tightens his arms around Ben’s waist, dips his hand down the back of Ben’s jeans and closes his eyes.
“What if we can’t?” he whispers.
Ben kisses him again but says nothing, and he opens his eyes and bumps their noses together.
“Nobody else?” he asks.
Ben shakes his head.
“Nobody else,” he says.
#