Ben almost asked Sam to translate—since that would give him something to do—but hesitated. If this article wasaboutSam, then maybe it was better not to bring it up.
Instead, he hit the prompt to translate it. What he got back wasn’t exactly orthodox English, but as Eliot had said, it was good enough to get the idea.
From the first line, Ben’s stomach dropped.
This was about Sam. This was about Sam crashing a motorcycle, a little over four months ago. His passenger had been the son of a local billionaire, who…
Well, at least he’d survived. It was hard to tell based on the translation, but it seemed as though he’d actually walked away relatively unscathed.
Sam had gone to intensive care, and there was no more information than that.
It did explain the recent-looking scar on his face. Based on the seriousness of the crash, that probably wasn’t the worst of it.
Ben suddenly felt like an asshole for not asking, but then, if Sam wanted to talk about it, he would have brought it up. This was information Ben probably shouldn’t have had, no matter how important it seemed.
Eliot had been trying to do the right thing, but Ben wished now that he didn’t know. Sam absolutely wouldn’t have wanted Ben’s pity, but it was hard not to feel a little sorry for him now.
“You’ve gone quiet,” Sam said, startling Ben out of his thoughts.
“Uh. Email from Eliot. He’s stuck and asking for advice,” Ben said. That was true, it just wasn’t why he’d gone quiet.
“Well, based on the people starting to hang around outside, you might wanna change before we go out to this mystery activity. Dress code seems to be jeans and t-shirts.”
Ben looked over at Sam, at the long-sleeved Henley he was wearing, and wondered what the sleeves were hiding. It was too hot for them, and Sam had always loved the sun.
Not that Ben cared, exactly. He cared that Sam had been hurt, that he was probably still recovering, but Sam didn’t need to hide from him.
Sam also didn’t have any reason to think that, though. They were still getting used to each other again.
“I’ll change,” Ben said, leaning over to dig through his bag. He hadn’t bothered to hang anything up yet, promising himself he’d do it later. He knew he probably wouldn’t.
“I’ll give you some privacy.” Sam headed for the door.
“Don’t leave on my account.” Ben kicked off his shoes, putting his phone aside. “It’ll look weird if we show up separately, anyway. Besides, it’s not like I have anything you haven’t seen before.”
If Sam was going to get comfortable around him, he’d have to be comfortable around Sam, too. It wasn’t as though neither of them had been in a locker room before.
He’d never been naked in front of Sam before, but there was a first time for everything, and besides, Sam wasn’t going to stare. If nothing else, Ben could trust Sam with his boundaries.
That thought only made him feel worse for reading the article. He felt as though he’d been snooping, and while that was in his nature, he tried not to do it to friends. Not to Sam.
It was too late now to take it back, though. He couldn’t just forget what he knew.
“Okay.” Sam stopped, pacing back to the window again. “These guys look… uh. Fun.”
Based on Sam’s tone, Ben assumed they looked the opposite of fun. Not that he’d expected any different.
Ben chuckled, his guilt momentarily forgotten. If Sam ever found out, he’d forgive him. If he didn’t, then there was no harm done.
He glanced over at the crowd, half of whom were wearing huge dark sunglasses as though they were afraid of being recognized. On first glance, Ben didn’t recognize any of them. The place was exclusive, but it wasn’t A-list celebrity exclusive.
Even if it had been, he probably wouldn’t have recognized anyone.
Eliot would have murdered him in his sleep if he’d been sent on this assignment. He could handle anything, but he would have hated every minute of this.
With Sam around, though, Ben was starting to feel as though this was just like old times.
