Chapter Eight
Every time Ben checked to see how long they had to go before the first activity, his stomach twinged. He wasn’t normally a nervous man, but right now, he could only see two possible outcomes.
One, this would give away that he and Sam weren’t a romantic couple, and never had been.
Or two, it would give away that he had a whole lot of unresolved feelings going on right now.
Ben honestly wasn’t sure which was worse.
An email from Eliot came as a welcome distraction, and Ben was happy to throw himself into work for a little while.
“What do you think they mean by sensible shoes?” Sam asked from behind him, apparently still reading the activity brochure.
“Not heels,” Ben responded, opening the email.
He skimmed it for the details—Eliot was stuck right now, but optimistic that he could make some progress as soon as a source got back to him. He planned on staying up to wait for the call, since they were on holiday in Japan.
Ben immediately wanted to tell him to get some rest, but Eliot was an adult, and this was important. He’d tell Eliot not to burn himself out, but a little overtime never killed anyone. Besides, Eliot would only ignore him.
“That’s a shame, I look great in heels,” Sam said.
Ben paused for a moment, decided he’d heard right, and turned to look at him.
Sam was grinning, which probably meant he was joking.
He would have looked great in heels, though.
Ben tried to pretend he’d never had that thought, but the mental image persisted. Sam laughed, the sound filling up the otherwise silent room.
“That got your attention,” he said.
“Do you… want my attention?” Ben asked, suddenly unsure. He’d thought Sam might appreciate the break, since they were going to be together constantly after being apart for a very long time. He’d thought they might need some time to get used to each other.
Sam hesitated before answering, which meant that whatever he was about to say was going to be a lie. “No, you’re working,” he waved Ben off. “Which is cool, you’re here to work, and I’m just reaping the benefits.”
Ben watched Sam stand and pace over to the window, which looked out on a garden straight out of Home Beautiful.
“I’m gonna need pictures if you want me to believe you look good in heels,” Ben said, not wanting Sam to feel ignored.
While he waited for a response, he glanced back at the email.
The last line caught his eye.
By the way, I was looking Sam up to figure out why his name sounded familiar, and I found something I think you should see. This is in Italian, but Google Translate is good enough to get the gist.
Then there was a link to what sounded like an Italian newspaper. Ben clicked on it, curiosity getting the better of him.
“I haven’t got any pictures with me, so you’ll have to take it on faith,” Sam responded, pacing the room again.
Ben didn’t mind the pacing, normally—Sam was a man who paced, he’d never been good at standing still—but it was making him feel guilty right now.
Not that there was anything he could do about it. Other couples would be settling in and talking about their day or having much-needed heart-to-heart talks.
Probably all things he and Sam should have been doing, but not things Ben was quite ready to pour the necessary emotional energy into. Not yet, anyway.
Besides, he had no idea where to start. He’d done the obvious part already, the rest… the rest would take time. They both needed to figure out exactly how they felt before they could talk about it, and Ben hadn’t made any headway there.
The picture that illustrated the article—a destroyed motorcycle and an equally damaged car—didn’t bode well.
