Page 13 of Becoming Ben

I’m midway through my internship, and I can’t believe how fast it’s gone and how much I’ve learned. I knew this was a valuable opportunity, but I had no idea just how priceless it was. The time I spend this summer will inform the rest of my studies and my professional career beyond that. I’m so grateful for the confluence of events that made it possible for me to accept. Some of what I’ve learned has broken my heart, but I knew that could – and would – happen when I chose my subject of study.

I hadn't realized that there would be a fundraiser event for the center during the last week of July. A bulletin circulated with the dress code, date, and duties for those of us who work here, along with a mandate to bring a plus-one.

I’m pretty sure I can spiff up my one suit without a problem, but I don’t know what to do about the plus-one.

My first thought, of course, is to ask Mandy, but when I text her, she informs me that she’ll be out of town, being a bridesmaid for one of her friends. I spend the drive home thinking about who else I can ask, so I don’t realize that I’m coming home right when Ben usually puts dinner on the table. He’s made grilled salmon and asparagus, and it looks like he’s waiting for me to start the salmon.

“I knew you’d be home early tonight, and you haven’t been eating much,” he says, almost apologetically.

“Do you want to be my date to a work fundraiser?” I blurt out, heart pounding as I hear what I just said. Where had that come from? The drive home had given me a list in my head of acquaintances I was going to ask, but I guess my mouth had other ideas.

Ben stops and stares at me for a second with a comically surprised expression. I can almost see the buffering wheel spinning as he switches gears from salmon to dates. I’m about to reel it back in and tell him I was joking when he grins all the way up to his eyes. “I’d love to!” he says. “When? What should I wear? Where is it?”

God, it’s the happy puppy-dog eyes again. I’m in so much trouble.

***

Ben grills me about every detail of the fundraiser over the next few days, even double-checking that the dark grey suit he chose to wear is okay. Even having seen the suit, I’m not prepared for the sight of Ben coming into the kitchen, still straightening his shirt cuffs.

“You. Look. Incredible,” I say before I can censor myself. “Your hair, and your suit, and god, what is that cologne?” I take three steps across the kitchen to him, my eyes closing as I inhale deeply.

I hear him swallow with a click. “Uh,” he says. “Thank you?”

My eyes pop open, realizing what I’ve just done. I expect him to look uncomfortable or even upset, but that is not the expression on his face. He looks dazed, his face flushed and his eyes wide. “You look amazing, too,” he adds, his voice oddly strangled.

I glance down, though I had checked my appearance in the mirror upstairs before I came down. I’m wearing my one black suit with a pale pink dress shirt, a black tie, and the rainbow tie tack that Mandy gave me for my birthday last year. She said if my suit was going to be boring, I needed color somewhere. I've carefully polished my shoes, and I think I look sharp, considering. I’m nothing compared to Ben, though. If I thought he had sexy daddy vibes before, it was nothing to what he was giving now.

Ben’s usually ruffled hair is brushed back and styled into a neat swoop, the silver catching the light. His white dress shirt is crisp, and he is wearing a black, grey, and white ombre tie. “You’re sure it’s okay?” he asks after he recovers himself. “I know you said it was, but I can probably find something else…”

“It’s perfect. You looksohandsome,” I say, inhaling his scent again, though I try to be more inconspicuous about it this time.

Ben blushes and looks aside, all but scuffing his toe on the rug. It’s adorable, and I rub his shoulder lightly. “Let’s go. I want to show everyone that I brought the best-looking date at the fundraiser.”

“Oh my god,” he murmurs under his breath as he follows me to the car. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to hear that, so I pretend I didn’t.

The fundraiser is being held at an event center between Fort Collins and Denver. I’m getting in for free because of my internship, but the tickets start at $100 apiece for the paying guests.

We receive a program when we enter, outlining an evening with dinner, dancing, and a silent auction. A list of the clinical providers fills the bottom back of the sheet, and seeing "Trey Vaughn - Clinical Intern" sends a thrill through me.

Our seats are toward the back, and Ben pulls my chair out for me when we reach it, blushing again when he realizes how it looks. “Sorry, I just–”

I smile. “No, thank you,” I say, taking my seat. My name is on the place card, and Ben’s says "Vaughn Plus-One." I reach over and pick it up, grinning. “I’ve never been the one to have a plus-one,” I say.

Ben chuckles. “I’m honored to be your first,” he says.

I shake my head, looking at him. “Trust me, I’m the lucky one tonight.” He blushes again, and a shiver of desire rolls through me.

The food, while served in typically small portions, is delicious. There are several appetizers, including bacon-wrapped dates, thyme and fig goat cheese on delicious little toasts, and cranberry, brie, and pecan pinwheels. The main course is a choice of duck breasts with a fruit chutney and roast potatoes, steamed mussels with peppers, or a vegetarian stuffed squash. Ben chooses the duck, and I go with the squash. Obviously, I’m not a vegetarian, but I adore squash. I can feel Ben watching me eat, and though I try not to, I wonder if there will be squash for dinner at home sometime soon.

After the meal and a dessert of assorted flavors of gelato, there is dancing. We didn’t dance together at the wedding, but I had watched him dance with Mandy, and I was pretty sure he had watched me at the time. I didn’t know what it was about then, but the way things have developed, I have to wonder. I’m looking forward to having him in my arms, even if I don’t want to think too hard about why that is. When the first strains of music begin, I raise my eyebrows at him and tilt my head in the direction of the dance floor.

“Really?” he asks.

I frown. “Of course. Why not?”

Ben opens his mouth, then closes it again and shrugs. I take that as a yes, standing up and reaching for his hand. I expect the tingle and rush now that comes from holding hands with him; it happens every time we touch. I sternly remind myself not to do anything to make him uncomfortable. In very real terms, he is the only reason I have the chance to be here at all.

He had obviously enjoyed himself on the dance floor at the wedding, so I’m not surprised that after a hesitant start, we quickly get into it. We aren’t the only same-sex pair here, though we are in the minority, to be sure. The first few songs are upbeat and bouncy, and we go with it, but soon, a slower song comes on, and Ben looks distinctly adrift. “Do you want to head back to the table, or…” he asks cautiously.

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