Newton's Laws of Attraction

by M. J. O'Shea

  WHEN THE time came, Ben nearly almost didn’t go. Recon or not, all of his preservation instincts told him to stay the hell away from anywhere he’d be able to see Rory with some other guy’s paws all over him. It was irrational. It sucked. He was fucking jealous. Not envious. Not wishing wistfully that he was in this random guy’s place (okay, there was a little bit of that too) but jealous.

  “Get your effing hands off my boyfriend before I clock you over the head” jealous. The sad part was…. well, the sad part was the truth. Rory wasn’t his to be jealous over. Yeah. The truth sucked. So he needed to stay home. And he was intensely curious. But he didn’t want to get hurt. Ben really didn’t know what to do.

  It took Fen’s incessant texting and even a call from Pinky to get him out the door. Can I bring Keith? Every time he thought about that moment, and damn, he thought about it a lot, Ben wanted to stab something. Repeatedly. He hated the guy, of course. He hadn’t met him, but he hated him. He hated everyone who might have had Rory in the past when he should’ve had him. He hated anyone who got Rory in the future when Ben had to sit there and fucking watch.

  He wondered how it felt for Rory to watch him at the end of senior year when he’d started dating Ellen. He didn’t like her, other than as a friend, and he was pretty sure she’d always known. There wasn’t any big sad good-bye for them when they’d split up for college. On the other hand, simply watching Rory walk down the aisle from a distance at graduation had made his heart rip in two. Ben should’ve done something then. He should’ve done something every damn time he wished he had. Maybe then he wouldn’t be sitting at a barbecue waiting for Rory to show up with some guy he was probably fucking. Ben tightened his grip on his beer bottle. It was really hard not to throw it.

  “Hey, hon. You okay? You look a little pissy.” Pinky sat next to him and put her hand on his knee. She had no idea. He’d only told Fen that he still had feelings and made him promise not to say anything to Jeremy or the others. Jeremy finally knew about their past, but that was about as much humiliation as Ben could stand.

  “Yeah. I’m fine.” Ben took the last sip of his beer. It was his third, and he’d only been there for fifteen minutes. There was no damn way he’d be sober when Rory got there with… him. No name. Insignificant asshole who had his boyfriend didn’t deserve a name.

  “Rory’s bringing a date. Is that it?”

  “What did Fen tell you?”

  Pinky cocked her head. “Nothing. I have eyes, Ben. What is there to tell?”

  Ben sighed. Not getting into it. “Nothing that your eyes haven’t clearly told you already. Yes. That’s it.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, he looks at you the same way you look at him. It just seems like….”

  “Like we have a hell of a lot of history that I never told you about. It’s really complicated, Pink.” Okay, maybe three beers in fifteen minutes wasn’t a good idea.

  Pinky’s eyes grew wide. “Really?”

  “Just forget I said anything, okay? It’s a long story.”

  “How well did you know him?” she asked quietly.

  “We were neighbors for years growing up. He was my best friend.”

  Ben watched Pinky’s face for the moment when she remembered Rory’s story at the staff meeting. “O-Oh. I get it. And you? Wow.”

  “Yeah. Wow,” Ben said sarcastically. “That pretty much sums it up.”

  “Wow” summed up that kiss in the bathroom at the club, the one that Ben still felt with every hair and cell and tingling nerve on his body whenever he closed his eyes. “Wow” summed up the way his body just about collapsed when Rory asked if he could bring the guy he was seeing to the barbecue. All of it. Wow.

  “What are you going to do?” Pinky asked.

  “Ritual suicide?” Ben smirked. It wasn’t a nice look. “More beer?”

  Pinky cringed. “Beer can only help. I’ll get you another.”

  BEN WAS well into his fifth beer when Rory walked into Jeremy’s backyard with Keith. Keith—bullshit with his preppy-ass cargo pants and polo—and ugh. Ben hated him on sight. He was probably a perfectly nice guy, but it didn’t matter. Fucking douche.

  Fen eyed him from across the yard. It had to be obvious. He made his way to the chair Ben had been sitting in since he got there. “You’re going to be cool, right?”

  “No.”

  “Ben. Don’t be a dick. He said he’d be friends with you. So be friends. Do you want nothing?”

  “No.” Ben wanted to go home. Go back to two days ago when he didn’t know that Keith existed. Go back—No. Not going there again. That’s impossible.

  “Then you’re gonna have to be nice. I know—” Ben glared up at Fen. “Okay, so I can sort of maybe imagine what you must be thinking right now.”

  “No, you can’t. You don’t want to.”

  Fen rolled his eyes. “Knock it the fuck off, or I’m putting you in a cab and sending you to your mom’s. She can deal with you.”

  A huge part of Ben wanted to go, to take off running as fast as he could and get away from where Rory was standing with preppy, douchewad Keith’s arm slung over his shoulder. Keith. What a bullshit name. Total bullshit. He probably tied sweaters around his shoulders and played golf. Ben played golf occasionally, but that fact was easy to ignore.

  “C’mon. Let’s go say hello.” Fen’s grip dug into Ben’s forearm. “It’s time to be a grown-up and play nice.”

  “Fine,” Ben ground out. He tried to smile. It probably looked more like a snarl than anything else.

  “Yeah,” Fen said. “Don’t do that again. Smiling is bad.”

  Ben followed Fen over to where Pinky and Jeremy were greeting Rory and Douchewad. Ben refused to think of him as Keith, or even as a viable, real person. He couldn’t really exist. Because if he did, that would mean that Rory and he were impossible, and no. Just no. Ben preferred ignorance.

  “Keith, this is Fen and Ben. Fen teaches physics, Ben is the art instructor.”

  “Fen and Ben.” Keith snorted lightly. Ben hated him with every cell in his body.

  “Yeah.” Rory smiled softly. “The Trouble Twins.”

  “That’s adorable,” Keith said. He smiled at Rory like he had every right to. Ben stared at Keith silently. The uncomfortable quiet grew. “I’ll go see if the host needs any help on the grill,” Keith said. “You talk with your friends.” He kissed Rory on the head and turned toward where Jeremy had escaped and was busy lighting hot dogs on fire.

  “Jesus, Ro. How old is he?”

  Rory shrugged. “Forty, forty-two. Not sure. Why?”

  “At least he’ll be getting retirement benefits soon,” Ben snarked. “Maybe he can use them to get some better shorts.” It wasn’t fair. Keith was good-looking and well dressed. Mostly. Ben didn’t fucking care.

  “Ben. Stop.” Rory leveled that honey-gold glare on him.

  “C’mon, Ro. You can do better than him.”

  Rory shook his head. “Fen, I’m going to go see what’s going on with Pinky and Jessa. You might want to pour this one into a cab soon.”

  Fen clapped Rory on the shoulder. “Yeah. I know.” He leaned up and muttered something in Rory’s ear. Rory nodded sadly and clapped Fen’s shoulder in return before turning for the grill.

  Ben ground his palm into the socket of his eyeball. “Well, that went well,” he muttered.

  “Yes. Phenomenally so.” Fen shook his head. “C’mon. I’ll take you home and come back. I’m guessing you don’t want to be here anymore.”

  “Not so much.”

  Fen slung an arm over Ben’s shoulders and guided him out of the yard and away from yet another place where he’d acted like a big jerk once again. Story of his life.

  Chapter Seven

  “HEY, RORY?” Ben wanted to stab himself. Repeatedly. It seemed like his relationship with Rory was going to be him apologizing over and over until he finally stopped fucking things up, whenever that happened.

  “What is it, Ben?” Rory was hunched
over his desk grading papers. He had his glasses on, that instead of making him look geeky, made him look even sexier. Intellectual and hot as—Ben ground his jaw together. Seriously. Not why he was there. Apologize, dumbfuck. Now. Rory looked up warily.

  “Listen, I know I was an ass at Finchy’s barbecue. I just… got jealous.”

  Rory sighed. “We’re trying to be friends here. You know that. I can’t do this. I can’t do jealous, or possessive. It’s not going to work. Even if it’s not Keith, it could be someone else.”

  Yeah, and that doesn’t make me want to fly into a lovely green Hulk rage or anything. “Listen, I know I don’t have the right. I know. I’ve just never seen you with anyone but me. It was really weird, and I’m going to be honest. I didn’t like it.” Ben rolled his eyes at himself. “Okay, that was obvious. Point is I’ll get over it if you’ll forget that it happened.”

  Rory cracked a small smile. “I’ll try.”

  “I know you don’t belong to me anymore. I know. It’ll just take a few lessons for it to sink in.” And the sad part is, I still belong to you. One hundred percent.

  “We’re okay, Ben. Friends.”

  Ben nodded. “And do friends watch the Galaxy game together this Thursday night? They’re pretty close to the playoffs again.” He and Rory had always watched soccer together. At first, Rory had gone along with it grudgingly, but he’d learned to love the sport too—at least from a distance.

  “Sure. We can watch the game.”

  “Want to come over to my place? I’m in Doe Mill. Not too far.”

  That got a real smile from Rory. “Me too. We might be neighbors. I’ll bring beer if you get dinner. Deal?”

  “Deal. Game’s at six.”

  I like this, Ben thought. It was good to smile and hear his voice again and even his laugh. Maybe it wasn’t kissing, maybe it wasn’t dragging Rory into his bed like he so wanted to do, but it was good and he liked it. Mostly liked it, at least. The bell rang, signaling the start of another day at Canyon View.

  “Have a good morning,” Rory said quietly from his desk. He rose to go to his door and greet his first-period class.

  “You too. See you at lunch.”

  THE WEEK dragged, days and hours and minutes multiplying slowly until it finally got to Thursday afternoon. Ben popped into Rory’s room before he went down to the field for practice.

  “Here’s my address.” He handed Rory a slip of paper. “Burritos from Banditos okay?” he asked.

  “Sure. As long as there’s chips and queso involved,” Rory said. “I missed that place so much. You remember what I like?”

  If it was a test, Ben passed. No problem. “Course. Fish burrito, lettuce instead of cabbage, white sauce, black beans, extra tomato, guacamole, and sour cream.”

  “Very good. I don’t have to fire you.” Rory winked. He winked, damn it. For a second, Ben forgot to breathe.

  “Not yet,” he squeaked out. “I’d better get to practice before they rebel. You aren’t going to run today, are you?”

  Rory laughed out loud. “Nah, I’ll leave the poor impressionable high school girls alone. I think a few of them have gotten the hint, though. I’ve gotten some comments about how cute you are. They were very pointed.”

  Ben felt his neck turn red and hot. “Yeah, me too. Ignore that. I’ll see you at six.”

  Rory snickered, and Ben escaped as quickly as possible. He jogged out of the annex and down to the pitch before anything else embarrassing could happen.

  “WHERE WERE you, Mr. Parsons?” Rashawnda asked. “Did Mr. Newton need help with his grading?”

  Ben wavered between embarrassed and annoyed. He rolled his eyes but made a point to shoot her down. “Mr. Newton is a friend and a teacher. Be respectful. I’m not going to say it again. Extra warm-up lap. Now.” He pointed to the track. “The rest of you please partner up for some passing drills. We had a few problems getting around Pine Crest’s defense last week. I want to tighten that up.”

  BEN TRIED to tell himself that he wasn’t nervous that night as he did a little bit of last minute straightening up around his loft. It wasn’t huge, but it was in a newly refurbished old warehouse and had a lot of character. He wanted Rory to like it. Ben sat out the burritos, a bowl of chips, plus queso and salsa. He was just getting out plates and forks when his doorbell rang.

  “Hey.” Rory had a few limes and a sixer of Corona. He was freshly showered and wearing track bottoms, flip-flops, and a T-shirt. He looked freaking gorgeous. Ben tried to ignore it.

  “Come in. Easy to find?”

  “Of course. It really is only a couple of blocks away from my place. I just walked over. Not too far from the old neighborhood, huh?”

  Ben nodded. “I didn’t want to be too far from Mom. She had it rough right after Dad left. When I moved home after school, I just wanted somewhere close.”

  Rory frowned. “I miss your mom.” He chuckled softly. “More than just her cookies.”

  “Yeah, she misses you too. Sometimes I think she liked you more than she liked me,” Ben said. His mom had always been one of Rory’s biggest fans.

  “Maybe I will go visit her. I should say hi.” Ben’s mom didn’t live next to Rory’s parents anymore. They’d moved out to the golf course a few months after he and Rory had graduated from high school. In a way, it had been a relief, not having the constant reminders of his mistakes staring at him every time he went home. In another way, it had scared Ben more than anything not to have Rory right there where he could find him.

  “So game’s about to start. I had them write your name on your burrito.”

  “Sweet.” Rory grinned and flopped down on the couch. He took a chip, dipped it in queso, and shoved the whole thing in his mouth. “Ermygahd,” he mumbled with his mouth full. “Best queso ever. How did I live without it?”

  How did I live without you? Ben shook his head, annoyed with himself. When did you turn into such a damn cheeseball? It was true, though. Having Rory there right next to him, unpeeling the foil off of a ginormous burrito felt like home. Ben didn’t know how he’d lived without it for so long.

  The game was fun. Close. The Galaxy nearly got trounced by the Sounders a few times, and he and Rory shouted insults and cries of “offsides!” to the screen, ate chips and burritos, drank beer, and damn if Ben could remember any time in the past eight years that he’d been happier. He could smell Rory, and feel the heat from his body, and it was so good. Ben scooted a little closer. So their body heat mingled, then their knees touched, then the sides of their feet. Rory didn’t seem to notice at first, just relaxed into the cushions of the couch and the side of Ben’s body and zeroed his attention in on the screen. After a few minutes, though, he scooted away and shot Ben a reproachful look.

  “Sorry,” Ben muttered. “I keep forgetting.” Their friendship had always been touchy and cuddly before, even when they weren’t together. It was hard to get used to this new kind of friendship, one even less tactile than he had with Fen or Jeremy. It would take practice.

  “It’s okay. I just don’t want to….” Rory looked like he wasn’t quite sure how to finish his sentence. On the screen, Robbie Keane scored—the goal that would win them the game. It would take a miracle for the Sounders to win in the few minutes they had left. “Yes!” Rory shouted, and just like that the moment was gone. Gone, but not forgotten. Ben filed it away with every other touch and glance and significant sigh that had happened since Rory walked back into his life.

  BEN WALKED Rory to the door when the game was over. He wanted to offer to walk Rory home, walk him to his bed. Ben remained silent, which he knew was a smart choice. Frustrating but smart.

  Rory chuckled when Ben pulled the door open to usher him out. “I feel like a teenaged girl on a date. You don’t have to hold the door open for me.”

  Ben rolled his eyes. “I have manners, you know? Night, Ro. See you in the morning.”

  Rory smiled, waved, and took off down the street at a quick trot.

  IT WASN�
��T long before Rory and Ben ended up alone together again. Maybe Rory felt it too, that sweet, overwhelming familiarity that was just so damn good. Maybe that’s why he invited Ben over for dinner and a game of Monopoly, one of the few things where they’d always been evenly matched. For the first time, Ben wasn’t nervous. He trotted over to Rory’s with a loaf of Italian bread and a jar of pesto to go with Rory’s spaghetti and knocked on the door like he’d been there a million times.

  He would’ve expected dinner to be a little weird, no sports game to distract them, no Fen and Jeremy, but the weird part was that it wasn’t. At all. They had a lot of catching up to do—neither of them had talked much about college or anything after—so they did. They talked and talked about old boyfriends and classes and Seattle. The only thing that was completely off-limits by some unspoken agreement was high school and everything that had happened. Childhood was fine. Childhood was safe. But any mention of how they’d been together or how Ben had hurt Rory was avoided. Ben was fine with that. He existed happily in the little bubble of normal that was he and Rory hanging out, playing games, having a good time.

  Things were good at school too. Really good. One day at lunch, Ben had chips and guacamole with him. Rory reached out and snagged one with an impudent grin. So they were back to stealing food. Ben remembered that quite clearly. Rory didn’t seem to mind when he did the same, reaching over to grab a grape when they looked particularly good. Rory bumped Ben’s thigh with his knee when he laughed, and had no problem crowding up to him at the small round staff table anymore. Ben was scared to even think about it too hard for fear that it would disappear like some kind of gorgeous chemistry-teacher-shaped mirage.