Judging from how Grant and Crowler looked at each other, they had no idea.While they rectified their oversight, Ben rummaged through the fridge in search of an alcoholic beverage with actual flavor and ABV.Hockey players sacrificed a hell of a lot for their admittedly very nice bodies, chiefly food that tasted good and alcohol that could get a person drunk.Ben complained about it as he shifted aside three different light beers.
“Buy your own damn groceries,” Phil grumbled.But in no time, Ben found a locally brewed, hazy IPA nestled in between two plastic containers of leftovers, tart and fruity.Phil must have ordered it for him while he was away.
He didn’t deserve to stay here any longer.Phil no longer needed help since he could manage the stairs fine on his own, and Ben was taking advantage of his kindness and hospitality by lying about who he was, even as Phil had special-ordered him his favorite drinks.
The thought continued to plague him all through a very awkward Thanksgiving dinner.This wasn’t the worst one Ben had ever sat through.That award went to the year he had come out to his parents, and they’d spent the holiday leaving him pamphlets for various retreats where he could “pray the gay away.”It was a close thing though.
He’d found that hockey players turned out to be surprisingly gracious.Breezy, possibly one of the most clueless human beings Ben had ever encountered in the wild, had come up with an idea for the whole team to sponsor a shelter for homeless LGBTQIA+ teens.The hapless way the rest of them jumped on board to support the idea made Ben feel a little overcome.If his family had thought to address their own bigotry by looking for ways to improve themselves, so much about his life would have been different.Ben did his best to vocally support the idea.So long as they believed he was their coach, his words had weight.
Otherwise, he let the evening wash over him.Loud, boisterous conversation passed him by.Ben knew Phil wanted more engagement from him, but his head pounded as he tried to parse everything he needed to do to get out of this coaching gig and how on earth he was supposed to do it when he’d be meeting his niece at the Greyhound station in two days.
How was he supposed to take care of another person?At forty-two, Ben was living in another person’s house on a nonpermanent basis.He had next to no savings, and he’d only made it this far due to lucky breaks.He couldn’t offer a teenager meaningful life advice.
And what would he even say to Phil?Sorry, my possibly traumatized and potentially underage relative needs to stay in one of your other spare rooms?No, Ben couldn’t do that to Phil on top of everything else.If the Charlotte situation turned complicated, Ben would just have to suck it up and find something affordable, maybe in Oakland or the outskirts of Berkeley.He could handle the commute.He couldn’t handle the guilt.
Ben tried to focus on the meal instead of the conversation around him or the buzzing of his own brain.The stuffing tasted as good as it smelled, but most everything else was bland and unappetizing.Or maybe the panic steadily crawling its way up Ben’s throat robbed the food of flavor.
He stuck it out because Phil, clearly still agitated, kept shooting him significant looks every now and again when anyone mentioned the power play.
Ben was so goddamn sick of the power play.
The guests left before nine.Breezy and Luca Mazetti were the last to go; they helped load the dishwasher, which was very sweet.Breezy’s girlfriend had taken an Uber home at six, citing having to get to her own family’s festivities.
“All right.But do you like anything about her besides that her family knows yours?”Luca asked as he rinsed off a serving platter.
“I—” Breezy started, sliding cutlery into the dishwasher basket.“Um.I don’t.Hey.”
Phil watched the display with amusement, leaning against the counter and sipping his third light beer of the evening.Ben had always liked laugh lines on a man.
“He makes a good point, Breezy,” Phil said.
“She’s nice, okay?She wants to work with kids.”
“Yes.”Luca nodded seriously.“I could say the same thing about my grandmother.”
“Her hair is pretty?”
Drying off the last platter, Luca looked him dead in the eye and intoned, “Oh, the burning passion.”
“Okay, shut up.”Breezy continued carefully loading the plates.
They were nice plates, probably also a relic from Phil’s ex-wife.Somehow, Ben couldn’t picture Phil picking out china patterns.The delicate dishware in his big hands would be—ludicrous.Yes.Not at all attractive in a weird domestic way.
“Phil, tell him to shut up,” Breezy whined.
Phil drained his beer.“You’re on your own with that one, kid.Also, you guys know I have a cleaning service, right?”
Breezy shot him an affronted look.“You don’t leave the host to do the dishes alone.”
“And you don’t leave dishes out overnight,” Ben added.“It attracts ants.”
“Fine, fine.”
There wasn’t much left to do anyhow.Breezy and Luca finished up and left, still bickering, and then they were alone.
“Do you need help with the stairs tonight?Or a shower?”Ben had helped Phil with the shower a number of times since he’d moved in.It hadn’t gotten less shockingly intimate.“Or do you want to watch TV?”
“Ben.”
