THIS ISN’T Adate. This isn’t a date.I repeated those words to myself over and over as I got ready for the stakeout. I still spent extra time picking out an outfit and trying to get my hair to lay right. I was probably two months past a haircut and it was too shabby to style. I thought about bringing back the Rick Springfield look, then decided against it and made a mental note to myself: get a haircut.
Ellie was curled up asleep on the couch for which I was grateful, because I didn’t have to lie to her about my evening plans. It wasn’t like I could tell her the truth and I surely didn’t want her to get the wrong impression about me spending time with Ben. I could see the hopeful gleam in her eye when I came home from Ben’s house the previous night. She didn’t grill me about what we did that time, because it was probably pretty obvious.
I honestly couldn’t recall a time I had felt so relaxed in over two years. It felt great to unload my burdens to Ben without him looking at me in disgust or loathing. Okay, the sex had been phenomenal, but I wouldn’t let my mind go there knowing I would be locked in a car with him during the stakeout. It wouldn’t take much for me to throw myself at him and that wouldn’t be fair to him.
Ben was walking down the front steps by the time I parked my car in his driveway and got out. My eyes raked over his casual attire of jeans that were so old they were threadbare in places, a faded blue t-shirt, and a pair of Corona flip-flops.
“Evening,” he said with a friendly smile. “You ready to stakeout this fucker?”
“As I’ll ever be. What’s in the bag?” I nodded to the reusable cloth grocery bag in his hands.
“Very important stakeout thingies, Xavier.” Ben pushed the unlock button on his key fob and we both climbed inside his shiny sedan. “So, here’s the plan,” Ben said as he fired up the engine and backed out of his driveway. “Van gave me the description of Drake Anderson’s car and his license plate number, along with several of his favorite haunts.”
“Who’s Van?”
“Sorry it’s the nickname I use for my brother, Bevan, unless I want to get under his skin and then I call him Bev.” The smile in Ben’s voice demonstrated how much he loved his brother. It made me nostalgic over the lost connection with my own siblings, but all the more grateful for the bond I had with Chase.
“So, the loser’s name is Drake Anderson? It will be great to have his name and face to visualize at my next kickboxing class.”
“Oh, when might that be?” Ben didn’t bother to disguise his eagerness and wishful thinking that I might end up back at his house again after class ready to fuck my aggression out of my system.
I hated to break it to him, but I’d already started to research healthier ways to come down off that adrenaline and testosterone high that didn’t involve sex with him. One of the most common bad habits people fell into while recovering from addiction was picking up another. Kevin referred to it as transference and warned me about it during our email conversations. I also read a lot about it in several articles during my online research. The most natural transference is to latch onto a person in place of the alcohol or drugs. I knew I wasn’t going to avoid relationships forever, but I would evade them until I felt strong enough to handle all the ups and downs that went with them. Besides, I still didn’t trust my judgment after the last fiasco.
“Xavier.” Ben’s warm voice broke into my inner musings.
“Hmm? Oh, um, my next class is tomorrow night.” I sat there wondering how I could tell him that last night would not be repeated without hurting his feelings or coming off like a dick.
“A massage or a soak in a hot tub or bath will help bring you down if you experience another spike like the one you had last night. Masturbation works wonders for most things that ail us.” Ben intuitively addressed my unspoken concern. A small voice in my brain reminded me that I’d been a little presumptuous to assume that he wanted more than sex with me anyway.Arrogant much?“You might not get that spike after each and every class, Xavier. Last night could have been an anomaly because you were taking steps to take back control of your life and your safety, so you were bound to feel excitement on a whole different level.”
“How do you know so much about it?” My curiosity overrode my caution. I would have been lying if I said I wasn’t interested in learning more about Ben.
“I was obese during my late childhood and early teen years,” he replied. I looked over at him and let my eyes roam over his lean, yet well-defined body. “It’s true,” he said as if he could hear the doubt in my mind. “My home was a miserable, cold place for a kid and Van was the only good thing I had in my life. He left for college when I was eight years old and I became an emotional eater.” Ben looked over at me and caught my stare. “Addictions come in many varieties and one is not better or worse than the others, because they are all mentally and physically destructive, Xavier. I was on a fast track to diabetes, heart disease, and stroke. Yeah, it might have taken longer to kill me, but the quality of those years would have greatly diminished.”
I turned to look back out the windshield and let his words reverberate through my skull. I never quite considered the points he was making, but then again I hadn’t really talked to anyone about addictions, except for Kevin. No wonder Ben didn’t judge me for anything I confessed last night, because he’d been down this road and won.
“How’d you overcome your bad eating habits?”
“Daniel and Beverly tried just about everything to get me to lose the weight, because I was an embarrassment to our family, which only made me eat more just to piss them off. They sent me away to ‘fitness summer camps’ for a few years, but that didn’t work. They tried counseling, but didn’t like being told that they were part of my problem. Their solution was to find a counselor who told them what they wanted to hear – that I was a fat and lazy kid who didn’t have a drop of ambition inside me, when that was the furthest thing from the truth. Luckily for me they never found that counselor.” His voice was laced with dry humor, which confused me, because there was nothing funny about the story he was telling me.
“Their last resort was to hire a personal trainer to come to our house and whip me into shape and teach me a healthier way to eat. We already had a chef on staff, but they insisted that this personal trainer be the one to prepare my meal plans.” Ben laughed and I looked over to see him grinning like a fool. “Good god, Xavier, I learned so much about myself that summer.” His humor was contagious and I found myself smiling with him, even though I was still confused as to why we were smiling. “I took one look at Sven and knew my life would be irrevocably changed. My eyes took in all those tan, sculpted muscles, his beautiful face and I realized that I was gay as fuck.” Ah, then I understood what all the smiling was about.
Laughter burst from my chest like a shotgun blast, loud and widespread. “How old were you?” I asked when I regained my composure.
“Thirteen. It’s a miracle I didn’t go blind from jerking off so much.” Ben’s wide grin let me know he was enjoying this particular trip down memory lane. “To make a long story short, I was smitten and I knew if I ever wanted to attract a guy like Sven then I’d need to lose weight and get into shape. He introduced me to all types of healthy foods, exercises, and activities, but the game change occurred when he took me to my first swim lesson. I took to swimming like a duck to water. We had a pool at our house, but it was more for looks than exercise. Sure, I splashed around and had fun, but that was nothing compared to the exhilaration of swimming competitively.”
“I bet you were really good at it once you put your mind to it, weren’t you?”
“I was,” he agreed, nodding. “It took me close to two years to lose the weight and learn the techniques I needed to become a competitive swimmer, but there was no turning back once I reached that pinnacle.” There was so much pride in Ben’s voice. “Thanks to Sven and his never-wavering support, I earned a swimming scholarship and a ticket out of misery.”
“Wow,” was all I could think to say. Ben was just so full of surprises and it worried me how much I liked unwrapping him to find each one. I almost did a full body shiver at the image of how I unwrapped and unraveled him last night. My dick stirred beneath the tight confines of my black jeans. There’d be no hiding my arousal in those jeans so I forced my mind to think about something non-sexual. “Are things better with your parents now?”
“Nope,” he said casually, but his stiffening posture belied his calm, neutral words. “Okay, this is our first stop.” Ben pulled into a parking lot of a dive bar I’d never been to. He competently backed his car into a secluded parking spot in a far corner where we could have eyes on both the front and side exits. “Will you hand me the bag?” It appeared that the conversation regarding his parents was over. I wanted to learn more, but I didn’t push him.
I reached behind his seat and lifted the bag he placed there when he got in the car. It was surprisingly heavy and I admit I was curious about the things he deemed necessary for tonight. I handed the bag over to him and studied his smiling face as he sorted through the items.
“Every stakeout needs a disguise.” Ben pulled a black ball cap with the words Task Force emblazoned on the front in large white print and handed it to me. He slid a matching hat on his head and went back to riffling through the bag. I slid the ridiculous hat on my head and waited for the next piece of our costume, which turned out to be oversized aviator sunglasses. We slid the glasses on while looking at each other and I was sure my goofy grin matched the one he was sporting. “I couldn’t resist these when I saw them in a tourist souvenir shop.”
I pulled the visor down and checked my appearance in the mirror. “I look like that bombing suspect from years ago. I’m just missing a hoodie,” I told him, a hint of whining had entered my voice.
