“Works for me,” Sam agreed, flopping back on his own side. “These sheets are nice.”
“Yeah.” Ben played with the edge of one, focusing on it as though it held the answer to every question he’d ever thought to ask.
He knew he needed to talk to Sam, but finding the right words was tricky. There was so much he wanted to say, and so many ways saying things could go wrong.
There was an obvious starting point, though. Something he should have had the courage to say to Sam a long time ago.
“Hey, umm,” Ben started. “Listen, I… I’m, uh. I’m bi.”
It was only fair that he came out to Sam—he owed him that much. He wished Sam could have been the first person he came out to, instead of a random stranger years after. There was nothing he could do about that, but Sam deserved this much trust.
Besides, they were never moving forward if he wasn’t honest.
And there was a part of Ben that was hoping Sam was back to give them another shot. Maybe that was stupid, or wishful thinking, but if there was any hope of it happening…
This was the first step. It wasn’t even close to the only step, but it was somewhere to start.
Ben could feel Sam’s eyes on him, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to meet them.
“Okay,” Sam said. “Thank you for trusting me with that.”
Ben breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure what else he’d expected. Sam had never been anything but supportive, when Ben had been willing to open up to him. Every secret he’d ever told him had stayed between them.
This felt different, though. Bigger, more important.
“I’d trust you with my life,” Ben responded. “I wish I could have told you first.”
“I wasn’t around,” Sam said, his voice quiet. It sounded as though he understood.
“You’re around now,” Ben said. “That’s all that matters.”
Sam laughed bitterly. “It’s not. I appreciate the offer to sweep everything under the rug, but that’s not how we’re doing this. I gotta earn your friendship back. I’m the one who left.”
“And I’m the one who let you go.” Ben finally turned to look at Sam, meeting his eyes. “So no, you don’t have to earn anything back. You never lost it. As far as I’m concerned… you’re my best friend. Now and forever. And I’m not good with feelings, but I want you to know that I’m so glad you’re back.”
Sam opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again and nodded. He paused for a moment, and then started again. “So, uh. Are you out-out? Just so we’re clear.”
“Well, I’m at a couples’ retreat with another man, so I think I’ve passed the point of no return,” Ben smiled wryly.
“Not outside of this place,” Sam said. “I’m guessing that’s kind of a no.”
Ben shrugged. “Eliot knows. Claire—uh, the editor I answer to—knows, so I guess I’m out at work now, for better or worse. I’m not… marching in this year’s pride parade, or anything, and I’m single, so it’s not like anyone can tell.”
“I think you’ll find you’re in a committed long-term relationship with a great guy.” Sam broke into a smile. “But I get the general picture. I wasn’t trying to put any pressure on you. I just didn’t want to out you to anyone who you didn’t want knowing.”
“I appreciate that,” Ben said.
He wished he’d understood ten years ago that being out didn’t have to mean being out to everyone on the entire planet. It could have meant, for example, telling his best friend about his confusing, terrifying feelings and praying he wouldn’t be rejected.
There was no point in dwelling on that now, though.
“So speaking of committed, long-term relationships, what’s our cover story?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to lie. That’s how you get caught out. I say we stick as close to the truth as possible.”
“Which is?” Sam asked.
“Uh.” Ben wet his lips. “Well… we’ve been together for about fifteen years, but you’ve been in and out of the country a lot and now… we’re getting to know each other again because… your job… changed?”
