by Beth Bolden
He finally found his voice. “Uh,” he said.
Diego rolled his eyes. “What are you doing? Did you actually jog here from your house?”
Belatedly, Benji remembered he was wearing his running shorts and a loose-fitting white tank, his unused earbuds dangling uselessly around his shoulders.
“I was jogging with Leo,” Benji admitted.
“And that made you want to come see me?” Diego didn’t sound very pleased, but then Benji supposed that if their places had been swapped, and Diego had shown up, unexpectedly, right when he was trying to move on, it wouldn’t have been very convenient.
Benji took a short, deep breath and prayed he wouldn’t fuck this up more than he’d already fucked it up. “I called you about twenty times, the last few days. Sent a lot of texts too.”
“Yeah, I know.” Diego frowned.
“Funny, you didn’t answer any of them.”
Diego opened his mouth, no doubt to say something like, I told you that I didn’t want to talk to you.
“Yeah, I know you said you wanted me to leave you alone, and that I’d know why, if I thought about it. But here’s the thing, I’m an idiot. Do you think if this was easy for me or straightforward, we’d still be dancing around it nearly ten years in?”
Diego’s expression softened a little. “Probably not.”
“I want to talk about it.” It was the most straightforward gauntlet Benji knew to throw down, and he said it like he wasn’t terrified, shaking inside at what this could mean. He’d always known if they ever managed to get their heads out of their asses that this would be it for both of them. He’d never love anyone else the way he loved Diego—and he could only hope Diego felt the same.
“Really? You’re really going to do this now?” Crossing his arms across his chest, Diego’s expression morphed back into annoyance. “Really?”
“Can we talk about this . . . I don’t know . . . inside maybe?” He didn’t want to say that he was half- worried Paul the Uber driver might come back, desperate for a little more celebrity dirt, and the last thing they needed was for him to witness . . . whatever came next.
It could be a fight or it could be a make-out session. Benji wasn’t leaving until they reached the logical end of this—and either one of those was a real possibility.
“I don’t know,” Diego said, but it sounded like he did know, and the answer wasn’t what Benji wanted to hear.
“Do you really want to try to move on without ever talking about it?” Benji had one more card to play, and he played it, praying that Leo hadn’t been fucking with him.
“I don’t want to do anything,” Diego retorted. “Some of us just aren’t willing to waste our lives waiting for something that’ll never happen.”
“I’m here,” Benji swore. “I’m here, right now. If you never want to talk to me again after we discuss it, that’d probably be pretty awkward, but I’m willing to take that chance.”
“And if I don’t want to talk about it?”
Benji had definitely not expected Diego to be so cold. Which went hand in hand with his earlier confession. He clearly was an idiot, if he hadn’t even realized how sick Diego had gotten of waiting for Benji to figure his shit out.
“Then I guess I’ll sit here, next to your front door, and wait until you do.”
A frustrated expression crossed Diego’s face. “You really would, wouldn’t you? After you waited fucking forever to say anything. That’s just like you.” He hesitated. “I guess you might as well come in.”
He opened the door wider, and Benji walked in, following him through the house, past the kitchen, and into the wide-open great room with the valley stretched out in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Diego curled into his favorite chair, staring at Benji, who was hesitating on the threshold awkwardly. Should he sit? Should he stand? Now that he had won himself a chance to actually talk, what should he say?
Giving a short bark of laughter, Diego gestured at the couch. “You might as well sit down.”
Sitting gingerly, Benji racked his brain for the right thing to say. “So, Leo was right.”
Diego glared. Of course, of all the hundreds, all the thousands, of things he could have said, he’d picked exactly the wrong thing to come out of his mouth.
“Is that why you’re here then?” Diego asked. Benji was pretty sure his bored attitude was just an act, but he wasn’t a hundred percent sure, which hurt. There’d been a time when he could read every single expression that crossed over Diego’s gorgeous face. “Because Leo told you to come?”
That was easy enough to answer. “No. I’m not here for that reason. Leo just . . . helped me realize why you didn’t want to see me. That’s all. I’m here for me. Actually …” Benji paused. “I’m here for you.”
It shouldn’t have hurt that Diego looked so surprised, but it did.
“Wow, you look shocked.” Benji laughed shortly, bitterly. “I really have fucked this up. You knew I . . . I cared. You knew. Right?”
For a split second, Benji had wanted to go balls to the wall and confess all the love he felt, that he’d felt forever, but he couldn’t. Not if there was any possibility that Diego would still ask him to leave afterwards.
“Of course I knew. You kissed me right there, on that couch. Or did you forget about that?” Diego’s voice was still cold. He clearly continued to be angry.
“It could have been momentary insanity,” Benji suggested, and then at the dark look that crossed Diego’s face, hastily added, “But it wasn’t. Of course it wasn’t. You know I care about you.”
“And,” Diego added, “you told me that I must have known. And that you’d just figured it out.”
Benji remembered. It had been a shitty day—a shitty week, actually. Caleb had come back, and at that point, nobody had known what to do with him or his legal threats. Benji had been completely absorbed in trying to save Leo the pain of what had seemed to be an inevitable confrontation, and then right in the middle of it, Sophie, his ex-wife, had moved out.
“You never loved me,” she’d said, standing in the foyer of their house, surrounded by boxes. “I knew it and I thought it would still be okay, but it wasn’t.” She hadn’t even sounded all that bitter (or all that surprised) as she’d told him that he should go after what he really wanted.
Diego.
And yeah, he’d probably known he didn’t love her. He’d wanted to, because she represented a normal life that he’d desperately wanted. Normal had never really been on the table, not since Star Shadow had been discovered when they were sixteen. But Benji had wanted it anyway, had spent years pretending, and denying things he really wanted, all in pursuit of all that fucking normalcy.
That week, that horrible, awful week, had been the final death of normal. It wasn’t happening, not for Benji anyway, and he’d had to come to terms with that.
“I hadn’t just figured it out,” Benji clarified, “but yes, that was the final sort of realization. That it wasn’t going to ever work with someone else. Not if the someone else wasn’t you.”
“And so you kissed me,” Diego said, and Benji was truly impressed at how steady his voice was. His pulse still spiked whenever he thought about it, which was embarrassingly often. It had barely been a kiss, but even if it had only lasted a few moments, it had still re-aligned his whole world.
“Yeah, I did.” Benji hesitated. Maybe he should say these things, all the crap that he was thinking, because maybe if he didn’t, Diego would ask him to leave, and then it would be finally, awfully, over. “I wanted to be normal, and I knew after that, I couldn’t be. Not ever. I needed to be okay with that, and the way that I didn’t just like guys, I liked you.”
“Six months,” Diego said testily, tapping on the arm of the chair. “Six months.”
“At least it was better than nine years?” Benji suggested sheepishly.
“Closing in on ten now,” Diego said.
“I know you’re pissed,” Benji tried again, “bu
t this is a big deal. I don’t know how to do this. I’m not sure you know how to do this either.”
Diego raised a questioning eyebrow. “I don’t?”
“This is really fucking complicated,” Benji said. “We’re friends. Bandmates. We spend too much time together already. And we do it all under a fucking microscope.”
“I don’t know, it seems pretty straightforward to me. You like me. I like you. I want to do this, and so I just . . . will.”
Diego uncoiled himself from the chair, and before Benji could even figure out what he was doing, he’d placed those delicate, strong, graceful fingers on his shoulders, and leaned down. Benji froze. How long had he wanted Diego to kiss him? For so many years it was difficult to even count. Definitely the first time he’d ever seen him, even when he hadn’t understood what it meant back then.
Hundreds of times after; thousands of times after. Diego gave him one second to turn away—and fuck if Benji was going to let fear win when Diego was about to kiss him—and then pressed his lips against Benji’s.
The kiss was surprisingly gentle and sweet, almost hesitant, like Diego was afraid he was going to run away if it was too deep or too passionate. After a long moment, Diego pulled back, a smile lighting up his face. “I’ve wanted to do that forever,” he said softly.
Benji reached up and tugged Diego down, covering his mouth with his own. This kiss was more like what he’d wanted for their second kiss—that buried spark of desire igniting. Benji’s hands skimmed down Diego’s sides, tracing the rose tattoo that he couldn’t see but knew was there. His hands settled back into the dip at his waist where they’d been only a few days ago and he tugged Diego in, pulling him closer.
Just when he believed that Diego would come the last few inches and climb onto his lap and they could really kiss the way Benji had been dreaming of, he pulled away, even turning his head so Benji couldn’t chase his lips.
“Wait,” Diego said breathlessly.
But Benji had been waiting for a long-ass time, and he thought he’d made it pretty clear he was done waiting—and hadn’t that been Diego’s whole problem? Too much waiting? Now he wanted to wait?
“What is it?” Benji asked. Diego might have pulled away so he was no longer in kissing range, but he was still definitely in touching range, and so Benji didn’t stop, using the pads of his fingers to trace the winding thorny vines of the rose.
“I didn’t . . . I don’t . . .” Diego hesitated.
For the first time in weeks—maybe even in months—Benji felt less guilty. He’d been blaming himself for not finding the courage to have this conversation, but maybe it wasn’t all his fault. Maybe Diego had doubts too.
It hit him like a brick to the side of the head.
Maybe Diego had doubts.
“Are you okay?” Benji asked, as he prayed that the doubts weren’t serious enough to stop this thing in its tracks, just as it had finally gotten good.
“You really want this,” Diego finally said after a long, heart-stopping pause. “You aren’t freaking out.”
Benji was confused. “Should I be?”
Diego pointed to himself. “I’m a guy. You . . . you don’t usually do that.”
Oh shit. Benji was going to have to come clean on something he’d rather not have confessed—at least not right away.
“I’ve known I liked women and men for quite a while,” Benji pointed out.
“Theoretically,” Diego stressed.
Yeah, there was definitely no way around it.
“You’re . . . not the first. Not exactly. Not the first guy I’ve kissed.” Benji tried hard not to outwardly cringe at the statement, but it was hard. But back then, as Star Shadow’s popularity had exponentially increased, just as Benji’s crush had done the same, he’d had to know. Was it worth it? Was it just Diego? Or did he like men as well as women?
“You’ve kissed other guys.” Diego’s voice was flat. Maybe it wasn’t fair that he was annoyed, but it wasn’t like Benji hadn’t done anything else wrong over the years. He was categorically terrible at this.
“I’m sure you have too,” Benji retorted.
“Maybe, but I didn’t go around pretending to hide it.”
That was true. It wasn’t as if Benji had gone around after his make-out sessions with other guys and talked about them. He hadn’t. Probably because 1) it scared the shit out of him how much he’d liked it and 2) it scared the shit out of him even more how desperately he’d wished the guys had been Diego.
“Choosing not to mention it is not the same as hiding it,” Benji argued. But Diego was already slipping out of his grasp—metaphorically as well as physically.
“Don’t say that you wished it was me,” Diego said, sounding pained.
“Of course I wished it was you! I’ve always wanted it to be you,” Benji said, more than a little flabbergasted. He wanted to get back to the hot, sweet moments of just a few minutes ago. Instead, Diego was forcing them to dig into something that, as far as Benji was concerned, didn’t mean anything anymore.
“Then why not do your little experimentation with me?” Diego demanded.
That answer was far too easy. “Because I wanted to. Too much.”
“And now that doesn’t matter?”
“Of course it matters,” Benji argued. “It mattered. But I grew up. I came to terms with the fact that I’m bisexual. I tried to love Sophie, but I couldn’t because I was already in love with someone else. Is that what you want me to say? Because it’s true.”
Diego stared at him for a long minute, and Benji’s heart thumped uselessly in his chest. Had he just gone too far? He hadn’t said it precisely, but he’d come close enough that Diego couldn’t be under any mistaken impressions anymore.
“You really mean that,” Diego said softly, slowly.
“Come back over here,” Benji said, “and I’ll show you how much.”
Diego wrapped his arms around himself and looked uncertain. “This is a big step. I . . . I know I’ve wanted this, I know you’ve wanted this, but maybe we should think about it.”
“Think about what?” Benji couldn’t believe Diego was trying to slam on the brakes now.
“Do you want to come out? Do you want to announce to the world you’re bisexual? That we’re dating, just like Leo and Caleb?”
Benji couldn’t lie and say he’d never considered the possibility. It was impossible to be part of a band in which two members were viciously and aggressively closeted for both their sexuality and their relationship, and not think about what would happen if he told the world he was bisexual.
“I don’t know,” Benji said. And it was as honest as he’d ever been. “I was sort of hoping we could figure out what was going on between us, and then tackle that issue.”
“Because I don’t want to hide,” Diego said. “I’ve never wanted to. Especially not now, not when we’re claiming to be completely transparent about who we are, this time around.”
“I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to,” Benji soothed, “but I also don’t think we have to have those answers right now. Do you?”
Diego thought for a long moment. “No. I don’t think so. Not right away. We can figure it out.”
“Okay.” Benji grinned. “Then get your ass over here so we can get on that.”
———
Objectively, Diego knew that Benji was a very charming, very sexy man who knew how to get exactly what he wanted.
He’d just never anticipated actually having all that charm turned on him or the effect it would have on his knees.
There was also an undeniable part of him that had expected Benji would need to be cautiously treated and essentially coaxed out of having a big gay freak-out, but it wasn’t happening at all. Not only was he a hundred percent fine with kissing a guy, he was downright enthusiastic about it.
Frankly, Diego believed he’d have a little more time to acclimate to the idea that he and Benji were actually going to be doing this dating thing—never mi
nd the kissing and more. It was a lot to comprehend when just an hour ago, he’d been actively trying to figure out how the fuck he was going to get over him.
“We haven’t even been on a date yet,” Diego objected. He walked back to the couch but sat down at the opposite end. Benji frowned.
“We’ve been friends for almost ten years,” Benji said. “Doesn’t that count?”
Diego knew exactly how that counted—or didn’t count—but gave Benji the benefit of pretending to think on it for a minute. “Yes. But no. Not enough. We spent that ten years either pretending what we felt was platonic, or actively avoiding getting together by marrying other people. This is a huge change.” He hesitated. “I want to come over there. A lot. But I don’t want to rush this either and fuck it up.”
“You really think that would happen?” Benji said with disbelief.
It would be so easy to slide over on the couch, cover all those bulging muscles with his own body and shut Benji’s beautiful mouth by putting his own over it. It would be really good. It would be really distracting. Probably in a week or two they’d wake up from a sexual haze and actually have a conversation or two.
But Diego knew himself and knew that wouldn’t be enough for him. He wanted more. He wanted beauty and love and romance and dates. He didn’t just want Benji fucking him so hard he couldn’t even see straight—though he definitely wanted that, too.
“I think that it would be really easy to get lost and lose sight of what this is,” Diego offered finally, gesturing between them. His heart rate accelerated, his palms went damp, and he wanted to look anywhere but into Benji’s dark eyes. “I want to be with you. In a proper relationship. Dates and romance and hot fucking after.”
For a moment, Benji’s eyes grew really dark, and Diego was afraid he’d lost him in the fantasy of lots of hot fucking, but then he refocused back onto Diego. And yeah, there was love there, in his gaze, not just lust. Plenty of that too, but Diego would be a little offended if it wasn’t there, considering what he’d just said, and that he was currently mostly naked.
