Page 10 of The Cubby Hole

“You okay?” His pretty blues were wide and full of concern.

All I could think about was his sweat mingling with mine. I could feel every individual drop.

I nodded, struck mute, not entirely sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that we weren’t alone.

4

10:01 P.M.

“Guess that was a first for you, huh?” My teasing fell flat, but it was the only thing I could think of to break the silence on our trudge back up the hill. “Being in the sauna without getting your dick sucked?”

Ben snorted softly. “Whatever.”

He usually had a bawdy comeback to that kind of ribbing. It was part of our schtick. He’d amuse me with outrageous confessions of his escapades, pretending he had an even bigger fuck-em-and-leave-em attitude than he actually did, and I would play the shocked romantic, horrified by his emotional detachment.

“Gary and Michael were looking at you like they could eat you alive. Did you see the looks on their faces when you stood up there at the end and gave them an eyeful? That’s the reason I fell. I was watching them watch you.” It was a lie. I’d been momentarily mesmerized by the soft patch of fur at the base of his spine, swirled and darkened with sweat. And his perfect ass. I never didn’t look at his ass.

Ben kept his eyes on the gravel road. “You’re the one they liked.”

“Are you high?”

“Everybody always likes you. You’re the one who talks.” He sighed. “You make people feel comfortable. If it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t even have any friends.”

It hurt me to hear him say that. It was odd for him to steer my trash talk to something so serious. Maybe sweating out his buzz had left him feeling moody or maybe going home with me was disappointing. “People love you once they get to know you.” I couldn’t help the consoling tone. “You’re a good friend.”

He modulated his voice, imitating an announcer in a commercial. “A good friend with a truck!”

I hoped the self-deprecating humor wasn’t masking some trace of bitterness.

Ben was a rescuer. He was the one you called when your car was in a ditch or when you needed someone to move you out of a bad situation in a hurry.

Bradley and I had been living together for two years. Three months ago, I’d been expecting a ring for Valentine’s Day. Instead, he’d pulled the rug out from under me and told me he didn’t see a future together.

I had called Ben, numb and hopeless, and he’d shown up in less than an hour. He’d quietly assisted me in getting my things out in one trip, and he’d never said a word about it not being the first time.

He’d offered to let me stay with him as long as I wanted, but when I’d insisted on getting my own apartment, he’d moved me again a week later. He’d teased the fuck out of me when I’d called pleading for help with the new bed I’d bought and then the used sofa I’d found online… But I’d never had to doubt for a minute he’d be there.

He did the same for others. Maybe not as frequently, but I doubt anybody else required it of him as often as I did.

I crowded Ben as he unlocked the cabin door, bouncing from foot to foot, eager to get out of the chill. The air conditioning was hardly any relief. I shivered and rubbed my arms.

“Hot tub?” Ben suggested.

I could not have been more grateful that we were old-man glamping.

Ben grabbed the whiskey and fresh cups of ice while I went to get us some towels. When I joined him on the deck, he was already shirtless and barefoot, clouds of steam escaping all around him as he lifted the lid panels and stacked them neatly to the side. Before going into the sauna in the bathhouse, getting undressed with him had been practical, just changing in the locker room with a buddy. That was a public space.

But watching him shuck his jeans now with nobody else around… It was intimate. This setting was intended to be either romantic or exhibitionist, depending on who was renting the place.

Tonight, that was us.

It made me feel self-conscious.

Ben slowly lowered himself into the roiling water, his triceps popping out, seemingly oblivious to the effect the sight of his naked body was having on mine.

I realized I was gritting my teeth, not entirely from the cold.

I had these moments sometimes when something trapped inside me would silently scream that he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen and that there would never be a future Valentine’s Day proposal with anybody else that wouldn’t be a disappointment. Just a little bit. On some level.