Cherry Pop (Mercury Rising Book 3)

by Samantha Kane

  “I still have just the one,” Ben assured him. He got the door open finally despite Tripp’s attempts to help. He didn’t bother to close the door behind him until he’d managed to dump Tripp on his bed. “Don’t move,” he told him before he raced back to close and lock the door.

  When he got back to the room Tripp was sprawled face up on his bed with his feet dangling off the end and his eyes closed. “The room’s moving,” Tripp said in distress. “It’s not supposed to do that, is it?”

  “Sure it is,” Ben told him, “when you’re drunk.” He walked over and pulled one of Tripp’s legs off the side of the bed so his foot rested on the floor.

  “Oh,” Tripp said with relief. “Okay.”

  Ben just shook his head and pulled Tripp’s shoes and socks off. Then he gripped Tripp under the arms and pulled him all the way onto the bed. He put the wastebasket next to Tripp’s side of the bed and then got undressed.

  “Go to sleep,” he told Tripp, who was humming something under his breath. “I’ll be right here beside you if you need anything.”

  Tripp cracked open one eye. “Want to fuck?” he asked.

  “Though you’re quite tempting right now,” Ben said, suppressing his laughter, “I don’t think this is the right time.”

  “So that’s a no?” Tripp asked, closing his eye again. “Again? I saw that one coming.”

  “I don’t think you can see much of anything right now,” Ben said. “But I’ll try to explain in the morning.”

  After he cleaned up his elbow and grabbed an ice pack for his ankle, he crawled into bed and Tripp rolled over, throwing his arm over Ben’s chest and his leg over Ben’s. Ben let out an, “Oof!” as the dead weight landed on him.

  “Don’t be going to L.A. again,” Tripp said. “You stay.”

  “Okay,” Ben told him, patting Tripp’s arm before resting his hand on it. “I stay.” In a couple of minutes, Tripp was snoring on the pillow next to him and Ben said a silent prayer he wouldn’t throw up on him in the middle of the night.

  A few minutes later his phone rang. “Hello?” he whispered, trying not to wake Tripp.

  “Is he all right?” John asked.

  “How did you know he was here?” Ben glanced over to make sure Tripp was still asleep.

  “We sat out on the porch and watched him until you got home,” John explained. “We can see your place from ours. We didn’t go over there because quite frankly we didn’t want to have to deal with him. Connor talked to him today and said he was all kinds of crazy over you leaving. We figured as long as we could see him and he wasn’t in danger we’d leave him.”

  “Thanks,” Ben said drily. “He’s sleeping it off.”

  “So, are you going back to L.A.?” John demanded.

  “No,” Ben said. “But as for why, I think Tripp should be the first one to hear that, don’t you?”

  “Connor said make him take some Advil as soon as he wakes up and give him a big glass of water too. Then let him sleep some more. He said the water is essential. Apparently it does wonders for a hangover.”

  “Duly noted,” Ben said. “Tell Connor thanks.” He hung up and tossed the phone away. He didn’t want any more interruptions. He was exhausted and just wanted to lie there enjoying Tripp’s weight across him.

  When Tripp woke up he didn’t bother to open his eyes. His first instinct was to press his hand to his head and try to hold his brains in. He had the headache of all headaches.

  “Take these,” Ben said softly beside him. “And drink this.” Ben peeled Tripp’s hand off his forehead and pressed some pills into his palm. Tripp immediately popped them into his mouth. A cold bottle was pressed to his hand next.

  “Take them with this water.”

  Painfully Tripp rose onto one elbow and barely cracked his eyes open. The sun was up, but thankfully most of it was blocked by the closed blinds. The bottle in his hand was open already and he chugged the whole thing down.

  “Thirsty,” he said when he was done.

  “I would imagine,” Ben said, taking the empty bottle. “Go back to sleep for a little while.”

  Tripp carefully lay back down and closed his eyes. “Did I do anything stupid?” he rasped.

  “Yep,” Ben told him. “But at least you didn’t puke in my bed.”

  “I’m in your bed?” Tripp asked, confused.

  “Yep,” Ben said again. “Just sleep. It will all make sense soon.”

  Tripp trusted him, so he relaxed and felt himself drifting off immediately. Somehow being here with Ben made everything all right. He knew there was something wrong with that logic, but couldn’t seem to care.

  When he awoke the second time, he felt much better. He yawned and blinked, wincing a little at the coat of fuzz on his tongue and the crustiness around his eyes. “Ugh,” he grunted.

  “Feeling better?” Ben said from beside him, and Tripp jerked in surprise. He glanced over to see Ben leaning back on some pillows, his tablet in his lap.

  “What time is it?” he asked, trying to get his bearings.

  “It’s about one o’clock,” Ben told him, setting the tablet on the table next to the bed. He rolled over onto his side, leaned on his elbow and grinned down at Tripp. “You slept a long time. I guess you had a lot of alcohol to sleep off. Don’t worry, I called Loreene and told her what happened. She covered for you at work.”

  “Oh shit,” Tripp moaned. “What did I do? What did I say?”

  Ben laughed. “Nothing that bad,” he told him. He pointed to an open door. “Bathroom’s in there. I’ve got an extra toothbrush waiting for you on the counter.”

  “Have I told you yet this morning that I love you?” Tripp said gratefully as he rolled out of bed.

  “No, not yet,” Ben said in a funny voice. Tripp glanced back at him, but Ben just smiled and sat back up. When he reached for his tablet again, Tripp headed in to brush his teeth.

  When he came back out, feeling a lot more human, he was surprised to see Ben still lying there in bed. He finally noticed that Ben wasn’t wearing anything except a pair of boxers, and his heart started pounding.

  “Did we…um…have sex last night?” he asked hesitantly. He would die if they had and he didn’t remember it.

  “Yes,” Ben said. “I like to do that, take advantage of extremely drunk virgins who may or may not throw up at any time during sex. It adds an edge of danger to the whole experience.” His delivery was deadpan, and it took a moment for Tripp to process what he said.

  “Oh,” Tripp said lamely. “Ha ha.” He stood there awkwardly, wearing his wrinkled shorts and T-shirt. “So,” he began. “Want to tell me what happened?”

  “I thought that was my line,” Ben said. He pulled one knee up and casually wrapped his arms around it, clasping one hand around the other wrist. Tripp noticed an ice pack on the other ankle.

  “What happened?” he asked, pointing at it. “Did I do that?” He was horror-stricken that he might have hurt Ben in some way when he was drunk.

  “Yes and no,” Ben said, confirming his worst fears. “I was helping you down off the hood of your truck and we both tumbled down to the gravel.” Tripp reached over and felt the scrape he’d found on his elbow in the bathroom. “I twisted my ankle a little bit. It actually feels okay, but I wanted to ice it again this morning just in case.” He reached down and pulled off the ice pack and tossed it to the floor.

  “Why was I on the hood of my truck?” Tripp asked. He racked his brain trying to remember.

  “I’m not sure. I was gone most of yesterday and I came home to find you drunk in my driveway, assaulting my house with beer cans.”

  “Oh shit,” Tripp whispered. “Did I do any damage?” He vaguely recalled thinking about driving his truck into the side of the house. “I didn’t ram your house, did I?” he asked, panicked.

  “Ah, no,” Ben said, with wide eyes. “Thank you very much for that, since I’m only renting. No, you just threw empty beer cans at it.”

  “Whew.” Tripp whistle
d in relief as he let his head drop back on his shoulders. “I guess I let my redneck loose last night. I was pretty messed up.”

  “Care to tell my why?” Ben asked calmly.

  Tripp did not care to tell him yet because he was pretty embarrassed, so he turned around in a circle, surveying Ben’s bedroom. It would have been as cold and empty as the rest of the house if not for Ben’s clothes tossed all over. His change was in a bowl on the bedside table, his wristwatch and wallet beside it. A couple of empty Cheerwine bottles sat on the small, cheap dresser. All these little signs of Ben made the room seem homey and familiar.

  “So this is the Batcave,” he said. “Nice.”

  “I’m afraid now that you’ve seen it I’ll have to kill you,” Ben said in the gravelly tones of Batman, and Tripp cracked up.

  “I didn’t know you could do that.” He walked over and peeked through the blinds at the front yard. His truck was parked in the driveway, but just barely. He’d missed the front lawn by inches. He saw beer cans scattered around the yard.

  “I have many talents,” Ben said. “Computers were only one of my options.”

  Tripp finally turned and looked at him. “I know. You could have been a real contender.” He forgot what old movie that was from. It was black-and-white and had Marlon Brando in it. Ben had insisted they watch it on late-night TV a couple of weeks ago. Much to his surprise Tripp had liked it a lot.

  “That’s close,” Ben said. “I didn’t actually sell out like Brando, though. I chose the road most travelled.”

  Tripp smiled stiffly. “Not travelled much around here.” Every word out of Ben’s mouth reminded him how different Mercury was from California and what Ben was used to.

  “Okay,” Ben said with a sigh. “Would you just tell me what happened yesterday?”

  “You never answered my texts,” Tripp countered. “Why?”

  It was Ben’s turn to look away. He lowered his legs and smoothed down the sheet on the bed beside him. “We had that fight the night before and I was all kinds of confused,” he finally admitted. He peeked up at Tripp. “And then something came up and I thought it had been too long to respond and that I’d just talk to you in person.”

  “I may have sort of broken my promise to you,” Tripp said, guilt making him a little sick to his stomach.

  “What promise?” Ben said, frowning.

  “About not talking about us, not telling people we were seeing each other.” Ben opened his mouth to say something and Tripp rushed on, not letting him speak. “I just needed to talk to someone after that fight we had. Which really wasn’t a fight, by the way. At least not what I’d call a fight. More like a disagreement.

  “Anyway, Luke had breakfast with me at Wren’s, and we sort of got to talking because he could tell I was upset. And then Brian and Evan showed up and Brian was being an ass and accusing me of dumping you or something, and I got mad and spilled the beans. And then it just seemed to steamroll from there until half of Wren’s was talking about us.” He winced. “I’m real sorry. I mean it. I am. I wasn’t trying to push you into anything. I swear.”

  “I saw Trey yesterday afternoon and he told me,” Ben said quietly with a little smile. “It’s okay.”

  “I—it’s okay?” Tripp asked. “Who are you and what have you done with Ben?”

  Ben patted the bed next to him. “Come here,” he said. “Let’s talk.”

  Tripp hesitated. Ben reached over and picked up another bottle of water off the bedside table. “Drink some more water. You’ll feel better. And if you drink this—” He shook the water, then reached down beside the bed and pulled up a full bottle of Cheerwine. “—you can have this.”

  “I’m actually feeling pretty good, considering,” Tripp said, surprised to find that it was the truth. “What’d you give me earlier?”

  “Just some Advil,” Ben said. “It’s the painkillers and the water and sleep combo that helps kill a hangover, according to Connor. I think being young helps too.” He said it sarcastically.

  “Are we going to rehash that old argument?” Tripp asked impatiently. “Eight years isn’t a huge age difference.”

  “No, you’re right,” Ben said, surprising Tripp again. “Now, would you please get your ass over here so we can talk? I promise not to bite. Yet.”

  It was the “yet” that got Tripp over to the bed.

  That and the Cheerwine.

  Twenty-Three

  Tripp sat cautiously on the bed beside Ben and took the offered bottle of water. Ben smiled wryly at the suspicion on his face, trying to set Tripp at ease. He felt a pang of regret that his confusion and mixed messages had made Tripp so hesitant. When they first met, it was Tripp who impetuously accepted his attraction to and feelings for Ben, with no hesitation or uncertainty. Ben hoped he felt the same way today.

  “I had a rather interesting day yesterday,” Ben said, settling comfortably back against the pillows, angled to face Tripp.

  He liked this. Liked sitting here on the bed half naked talking to Tripp, discussing what had happened in the hopes of getting Tripp’s opinion about it all. Somewhere along the way in the past month Tripp’s opinion had become important to him. Tripp was pretty grounded. He understood the black and white of a situation, but he appreciated the gray areas too. Hadn’t he said he lived in the gray area, or something like that, when trying to convince Ben he was gay? God, that seemed so long ago, even though Ben knew it wasn’t. He’d never had someone in his life like Tripp, not just as a lover, but as a friend.

  “You had an interesting day?” Tripp said incredulously. “Both Luke and my dad tried to talk to me about anal sex yesterday. It was very traumatic.”

  “Poor baby,” Ben said through his laughter. “God, that must have been awful.”

  “You have no idea,” Tripp said, shuddering. “I told my dad I never wanted to hear him say the words ‘anal sex’ again.”

  “I’m voting for that also,” Ben said, cringing. “Was this all because of me?”

  “Yes,” Tripp said, finally relaxing back against the headboard like Ben. He grabbed the pillow and shoved it behind his back. “It all started at Wren’s. Somehow that got real pretty fast. I blame Brian.”

  “I usually do too,” Ben said, nodding. “It works.”

  Tripp took a drink from the bottle of water, and then lowered it to his lap, staring at it. “You had me pretty messed up,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know what was going on with us after that fight that wasn’t a fight. And then you weren’t answering my texts and everyone told me you didn’t want me, and then Luke said you’d left to go back to L.A. with some guy who came to see you.”

  “Wow,” Ben said, tentatively reaching out and running his finger along the sharp tendon that ran from Tripp’s wrist to his thumb. “You did have a traumatic day.” Tripp set the bottle down on the floor beside the bed and then took Ben’s hand in his, interlocking their fingers.

  “First of all, I am guilty of ignoring your text because I wasn’t sure what to do about us.” He thought Tripp would say something, but he didn’t. He just sat there rubbing his thumb over the edge of Ben’s fingernail, not looking at him. “I was worried that we were getting too involved and somebody was going to get hurt.”

  “Me?” Tripp asked, peeking over at him in a side glance.

  “Both of us,” Ben said, clarifying. “Then I talked to my mom.”

  Tripp frowned and turned his head to face Ben. “Your mom?”

  Ben nodded. “Do you know what she told me? She told me she left my dad because it was too perfect, everything was perfect and she didn’t think it could last. And then she blew me away by admitting that if she could do it all over she would, because she never found in L.A. what she could have had with my dad.” He was still shocked over that conversation and planned to talk to her again soon about it. Maybe he needed to talk to his dad too.

  “Damn,” Tripp said. “My dad said pretty much the same thing. He told me that he left my mom before she could leave him, beca
use he never believed that a woman like her would stay with him. All those other women were him trying to find one to take her place when she finally left. I told him he was crazy.”

  “And I’m doing all those things,” Ben said, wincing in shame. He let go of Tripp’s hand, opened the Cheerwine, and took a drink, then handed it to Tripp. “I’m so worried about this great connection we’ve had from almost the moment we met that I’m not enjoying it or giving it a chance to grow. I’m sorry for that. I can’t believe how patient you’ve been.”

  “I am pretty close to perfect,” Tripp said modestly.

  “Don’t push it.” Tripp just grinned at Ben’s dry tone and took a drink. “But, the thing is, actually the most important thing, is that I’ve been projecting again.”

  “Projecting what?” Tripp turned on his side and rested his head in the palm of his hand, his elbow on the bed. Ben readjusted and took up a similar position facing Tripp.

  “My past onto you,” Ben admitted. “I saw myself in you, when I was younger and I first got involved with Roland. I wish now that I hadn’t been in such a rush to be with him. I feel like I lost eight years of my life. I lost chances and opportunities, experiences that I can never get back, because I threw my youth away on someone who didn’t deserve it. I didn’t want you to do the same thing.”

  “That’s not me and that’s not what’s going on,” Tripp interjected hotly.

  “I know,” Ben rushed to add before Tripp could go any further. “I know that now. And at the time I didn’t realize that was what I was doing. But yesterday, it just became clear. I know you’re not me. You’re nothing like I was then. I was so green, naïve and immature, ripe for the picking. Roland saw that and took advantage and I let him, at first because I was dumb. Later, because it was just easier. I got used to having someone around, even if it was someone I didn’t really want anymore, and who didn’t really want me, if we were honest about it. I was afraid of being alone. So I closed myself off and buried my unhappiness, and in the end it didn’t matter because he let me go, long after I should have left on my own.”