by M. J. O'Shea
Ben organized his papers one more time and nearly jumped when the warning bell rang. A few kids shuffled in one at a time and sat expectantly. Ben smiled. Josh, amazing with watercolors; Rawshawnda had a beautiful eye for detail and shading; Maria’s flower paintings were amazing and bright and filled with life… and the list went on, full of talented kids who only wanted to improve their skills. Ben’s nerves didn’t disappear, but the excitement rose. These guys were going to do amazing things. He couldn’t wait to help them get there.
The final bell rang, and he rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
“Morning, everyone. I thought we’d get right into it. I do want to go over the syllabus for the semester, but I figured you’ll get enough of that in the rest of your classes and tomorrow’s another day. Go ahead and get your pencils out and grab one of the sheets of construction paper in the middle of your table….”
BEN SMILED his way through the rest of first period. The kids were excited to learn, and he couldn’t wait to see what they could produce. The other classes of the morning were typical, full of nervous-looking kids who probably didn’t know what to make of his sense of humor. He went over supply lists and told them a bit about what they’d be doing. He always ended class with a short project so it wasn’t dreadfully boring. Ben was really looking forward to getting into the real stuff the next day—he wasn’t any more patient than they were with all the paperwork. He was also very grateful when lunch came. He’d trained his body all summer to eat whenever he felt like it. He was about to pass out by lunch. Ben grabbed his lunch and booked it for his usual spot in the annex teacher’s lounge.
“HAVE YOU seen the make-out couple?” Fen asked with a snort when Ben sat at the rickety old table in their staff lounge. They’d been asking for a new table since Ben first got there, but it was getting to the point where he really liked this one, and lunch wouldn’t feel the same without the table tipping once or twice and nearly spilling someone’s food.
“Who’s the make-out couple?” Jeremy asked with a grin. He was pretty much always ready for a joke. Jeremy Finchley taught drama, and he hung out with them on occasion. He was married, though, and his wife didn’t much like him to get mixed up with the Trouble Twins, as she called Ben and Fen. So Finchy was on lockdown most of the time when they asked him to do something.
“Just go out in the hallway someday between third and lunch. You’ll see.” Fen made a gagging sound. “They’re practically licking the insides of each other’s stomachs out. I know one of us should say something….”
“Awww c’mon. You can’t tell me you weren’t romeoing the girls back in high school.”
Fen laughed. “You kidding? I had braces, and I weighed like a hundred and ten pounds.” Fen might have weighed one forty tops. He hadn’t grown much since. “What about you, Ben? You probably romanced the boys right in these very halls.”
Ben nearly choked on his turkey sandwich. “Nah,” he said.
Half the time when he walked down the halls, he had to keep himself from picturing him and Rory laughing and running off into empty rooms to make out, groping and grabbing and trying to get each other off before the bell rang. He wondered how much of that Rory still saw in his head. He wondered if Rory ever wished he could have it back.
Fen and Jeremy had moved on and were laughing about some TV show they both had gotten totally obsessed by when the door to the lounge cracked open.
“If you need something wait until the bell—” Oh. It was Rory. Of course. He looked just as awkward as he had the day of the staff meeting. Ben hadn’t seen him since then; he’d somehow managed to miss him in the days before school started when he was setting up his room.
“Uh, hey. I was just going to heat up my lunch if that’s cool,” Rory said quietly.
Fen stood. “Course! You should come in and eat with us.” He gestured at Jeremy. “This is Jeremy Finchley. We call him Finchy sometimes. He was a little bitch and got out of the staff meeting last week.”
“Dude, I had the flu,” Jeremy protested.
“Yeah. I’m sure you did. Margarita flu,” Ben scoffed.
Jeremy made a face at Ben and stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you…?”
“Rory. Newton.”
“Nice to meet you, Rory. And these guys really don’t call me Finchy. Ever.” He glared at Fen. “Please don’t listen to anything either one of them say.”
Rory smiled hesitantly and nodded. Then he gestured toward the microwave with his food, and Fen scooted in to let him by. The two minutes that counted down on the microwave were awkward as hell. Shocking. Ben had no idea how Fen and Jeremy just kept blabbing on. All he could do was stare at the numbers on the screen as they trailed slooowly down to zero. Even still, the ding at the end made him jump.
“You okay, man?” Jeremy asked. “You’ve been kinda out of it today.”
Ben nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay.” He pulled out the empty chair next to him. “Hey, Rory. Sit with us. These two really aren’t that bad, and Pinky will be down in a few minutes.”
Rory froze and stared at the place where Ben’s hand on the back of the chair nearly grazed his thigh. “Um, no thanks. I have some work to catch up on in my classroom.” He nodded at Fen and Jeremy, pretty much ignored Ben, and walked out the door.
“Is that guy like a massive douche or something?” Jeremy asked.
“No.” Ben nearly got up and lunged across the table at an actual friend of his because he dared to question Rory’s personality. Not a good sign. “He’s not a douche.”
“He is pretty cool,” Fen added. He shot Ben a look. Calm down, man. Not a good idea to lose your shit the first damn day of school. At least that’s what Ben figured Fen’s look was about. Ben stared down at the table and breathed in and out slowly. “He must just feel awkward or something.”
Jeremy made a grunting noise, which Ben could only assume was agreeing, and went back to his mac and cheese.
Ben lifted his eyes to Fen’s once more, afraid of what he’d find.
Fix it, Fen mouthed at him. Today.
Fen had no idea how much Ben wanted to fix it. How much he wanted so much more than just a congenial hallway in the damn annex. He wanted Rory. His soft hair and the smell of apples, his goofy giggle and the best damn kisses Ben had ever had. He had to fix it… if that was even possible.
“So, um, Ben. You applying for the Garten-Bosch Fellowship again?”
Ben appreciated Fen’s attempt to change the subject. Talk about work. Work is good. “Probably. I don’t expect much. I’ve applied the last three years. They always say the same thing.”
“Not enough experience.” Fen rolled his eyes. “You’ll get it someday, man.”
It was something Ben had wanted to do for years, ever since he was in college. The fellowship was a fantastic opportunity to live and work in East LA, teach art workshops to the inner-city kids and manage a mobile art gallery to display the children’s work while taking master classes himself. It was the kind of thing he’d always wanted to do with his degree. He loved teaching, but he’d always seen himself doing something… bigger than staying in Chico and working at the same school he’d gone to himself.
“Maybe I will. But I’ll never know unless I keep trying, right?”
THE COPY room was empty when Ben raced in between his last two classes to make a few more copies of his syllabus. For some reason, he always managed to miscount how many copies he needed and would either end up with a sprint to the copy room or a stack of useless papers at the end of the day. Never failed. First day of school always seemed to get the best of him.
He slid his syllabus into the machine and hit the copy button, tapping his foot anxiously and staring at the clock. Most of the time the kids wanted to be in his class, so he didn’t have a ton of behavior problems on his hands, but it still wasn’t the best plan to leave a room full of high school kids alone for very long—especially not in an art room. There were way too many things they could get into. The last of the c
opies slid into the tray on the side of the hulking old machine, and Ben grabbed the warm pile, ready to jog down the hallway toward his room. He turned, only to run face-first into Rory. Again.
“Oh, sorry,” Rory mumbled. “Thought you saw me.”
He didn’t look at Ben. Again. He never seemed to look Ben in the eye unless he absolutely had to. And even then, he really didn’t. It hurt. Ben had zero right to be hurt over it, but he still was.
“Hey, Rory,” Ben said, just to see if he could get him to look up. He did. He finally looked up and leveled his gorgeous honey-gold eyes right on Ben, and yeah, they still did all sorts of crazy things to Ben’s pulse. Ben smiled tentatively. “Copy machine’s all yours.”
He let his smile widen, all thoughts of a quick sprint back to his classroom lost. He still just really liked to look at Rory. He always had. Even back when they’d broken up, or whatever awful thing that was, he still stole glances at him in the hallway and in class, yearning pathetic glances that really should’ve told him to run back to Rory and beg for forgiveness while he still had the chance. He hadn’t been very smart, but still, he liked to look.
“You don’t have to do this, Ben,” Rory said softly. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear.
“Don’t have to do what?”
Rory shrugged. His face went stiff and unreadable. “Try to be nice. We both know this is awkward as hell, and it sucks. I wouldn’t have applied here if I knew… well, if I knew.”
Ouch. “I want to do it. The guys like you. I mean, I want—” Of course the bell chose that fantastically annoying time to ring, and Ben really had to get back to his room. As much as he wanted to fix things. As much as he wanted to sink his fingers into Rory Newton’s infuriatingly soft hair and kiss him for the next fifty years or so. Ben kind of hated himself. “Shit,” he muttered. “I’ve gotta get to my room. Rory, please can we talk later?”
Rory shook his head. “I don’t think so, Ben.”
Ben wanted to stay and argue, talk, plead, cajole—anything but turn and walk away from Rory yet again. Didn’t have much choice. He looked at the door, then turned back to Rory, then the door again. Shit, shit, shit.
Ben clenched his jaw, shook his head and took off down the hall toward his art studio and his last class of the day.
HE WAS cleaning up from his final class when Mary Beth, an English teacher from the main building, stuck her head into his door. Seeing as though Ben had never seen her in his classroom before, there weren’t very many possible reasons for her sudden interest in the arts. He groaned inwardly.
“Hey Mary Beth. Can I help you?” he asked. He didn’t want to help her. He knew what she wanted. History and a lot of experience told him he knew that damn face. It had been a while, but he knew it.
“You can. I had a question.”
Here we go. Ben remembered all the girls who’d come up to him in middle school and early high school to ask that exact same thing. Rory remembered himself as a nerd, but the girls sure as hell didn’t. They’d seen what Ben saw—tall, gorgeous, sandy good looks, and a smile that was enough to melt, Jesus, anything.
“Okay.” Ben wasn’t going to ask what her question was. He really didn’t want to encourage her even if he knew where it was going.
“I heard a rumor that you went to high school with Rory.”
“I did.” Ben clenched his fist and dug into his palm with his nails.
“Do you happen to know if he’s seeing anyone at the moment?” she asked. Mary Beth smiled at Ben. He was pretty sure it was the first time she’d ever smiled at him. It was unsettling, and he was annoyed.
“You’re going to have to ask Rory that if you want to know. We’re work colleagues. I didn’t exactly get the lowdown.”
“But weren’t you two close when you were kids?”
Ben really couldn’t deal with it. He didn’t want to talk Rory and romance with Mary Bitchy Beth. He didn’t want to talk about their past, and he sure as hell didn’t want to tell a woman he didn’t even like that Rory was in fact his oldest and best friend. Still.
“Listen, we kinda knew each other but not really. He and I… were in different social circles if you get my drift, okay?”
“Of course.”
Ben looked up to say good afternoon to Mary Beth and hopefully get her out of his damn classroom so he could pack up and get down to his first soccer practice of the season. He saw Rory standing there with the original of his syllabus, the one he’d left in the copier an hour before. Rory’s eyes closed for a minute; then he slid the paper onto the closest counter and silently turned to go. Ben wanted to puke.
“I’ve gotta get down to the field. I need to lock up.” Mary Beth still hadn’t moved. She hadn’t noticed Rory either, so that was one plus. Ben needed to escape.
“Oh. Yes, yes, of course. I’ll be out of your way, then.”
Ben nodded and slung his duffel bag over his shoulder. “Have a good afternoon.” He ushered Mary Beth to the door and shut it behind her. She must’ve decided against going straight to Rory because she turned and walked toward the door back to the main building. Ben, on the other hand, did want to talk to Rory, even if he’d gotten a no. He wasn’t ready to give up. Not even close.
When he got to the chem lab, however, he found it locked. Tomorrow. He couldn’t let it go another day.
“ALRIGHT, LADIES, I’ll take it easy on you and start you off with one warm-up lap before we get to it.” Ben looked around at his team. A few of the girls from the previous year had graduated, and a couple of younger girls had moved up. He thought they had a solid chance of at least making it to districts, if not state. As long as they focused, which was always the hard part. “How many of you conditioned over the summer?” he asked.
“Does lying on the beach count?” Marissa asked. She was by far his best player, but she had an attitude that Ben had never been able to figure out. He had to hold back an eye roll. Must be tough to be the best and never have to work for it.
“I’m not going to answer that. Take your warm-up laps, ladies. Let’s do two so the girls who sat around all summer can catch up.”
There was a chorus of groans as the girls shuffled from the field onto the track for their warm-up laps.
When the girls came in from laps, he put them in groups of three to work on passes. It was a variation of keep-away—the girl in the middle had to try to get the ball; the other two had to pass correctly and quickly so that she didn’t get it. Anyone who let the ball go to the middle girl had to do a fifty-yard line sprint. Avoiding the run was enough to bring out the girls’ competitive spirit. They had to keep their cool, though, and not get too into it, or the player in the middle easily could snag the ball.
Ben was watching his girls, shouting out tips and encouragement, when he noticed a lone runner doing laps around the pitch. Rory. Jesus effing of course. He hoped Rory didn’t notice him as well, but it wasn’t likely. One of the girls let a ball slip through her legs, and Ben sent her on a fifty-yard line sprint. He jogged after the ball and kicked it back to the other two, who practiced passes while they waited. Ben heard them talking as he ran up to them.
“…and he’s freaking hot. I wasn’t going to take chem, but maybe I’ll have to transfer into that class.”
“Yeah, have you seen his jeans? He’s like, damn in them. Damn.”
“Ladies!” Ben barked. “Please worry about your technique and not Mr. Newton.”
Shawndra, the girl who’d been admiring Rory’s jeans, giggled. “But Coach Parsons. I know you can appreciate. Just look at him. Mr. Newton is fine.”
Ben had never been shy about his sexuality, but there wasn’t a chance in hell he was talking about cute boys with his seventeen-year-old midfielder. “He’s a teacher. And an adult. Please save that kind of stuff for the boys your age… unless you’d like to join Kelsey in a nice fifty-yard line sprint or two. It might take your mind off things.” Shawndra made a lip-zipping motion, but as soon as Ben turned around, he heard g
iggles coming from the two girls.
It’s gonna be a long season….
Chapter Four
BEN TRIED to ignore how hard his heart was beating when he poked his head into Rory’s classroom. Little flashes of times they’d snuck in there way back when crept into his head. That same teacher’s desk still sat in the corner, the one he’d laid Rory across one day in September when it had still been so hot they’d both been covered in a sheen of sweat. Rory had giggled and protested but returned Ben’s kisses breathlessly. Ben had wanted him so bad that day—every day to be honest. Still.
“Rory, can we talk?”
Rory looked up from the stack of papers he’d been going through. Ben had no idea how he could work at that desk. Ben could barely stand to be in the same room and still be rational. Rory looked up and sighed. His full lips drooped, and his hair slid out from where it had been tucked behind his ear.
“Ben, it’s not a good idea.”
“I wanted to apologize.”
Rory chuckled mirthlessly. “For what?”
“Jesus. Everything. Can we start with how I lied to Mary Beth yesterday? I know you heard.”
“I get it.” Rory shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”
“You don’t get it.” Ben didn’t want to be dismissed. He wanted Rory to hear his apology. To really hear it. “I’m not like I used to be, Ro. I’ve been out for years. Everyone knows. I just… I know you don’t like me much. I didn’t think you’d want our history spread all over the school.”
“Does anyone know?” Rory asked, ignoring the fact that Ben had called him by his old nickname. Ben hadn’t meant to, it just came out. Rory stood and walked around the desk. He perched on it, all long-legged and infuriatingly graceful. Ben wanted to get closer. He knew he wasn’t allowed.
