Page 4 of Beautifully Complicated

Not for the first time, I wish I had someone I could talk to about this. Someone who could understand what I’m saying, which sadly, most of my friends don’t. I have to simplify everything to the most basic of ideas and concepts, and even then I usually have to resort to sci-fi comparisons before my friends truly comprehend my excitement.

I once described what Kier’s doing as building a real-life version of Luke Skywalker’s bionic arm when Bennet and I…

Shit. What was that, a whole thirty minutes without thinking of him?

I take a larger than recommended sip of whiskey, wiping my mouth with the back of my wrist after I nearly choke on it.

Nope. Not going there. No thinking about Bennet when I’m as close to happy as I’ve been since that fateful day when I caught him kissing his then-secret boyfriend.

Yeah, right. When has telling yourself not to think of him ever worked?

I wish it were that easy. That I could tell my mind not to dwell on Bennet as if my brain was some form of AI that I could program to ignore that particular data point.

Even if I could purge thoughts of him, I’m not sure I’d want to. Despite the fact he—unknowingly—broke my heart, there are years of good memories between us. Memories of the bond that formed when we begrudgingly pledged ourselves to Sigma Rho to follow our fathers’ legacies. Memories of pranks and parties while living in the frat house. Memories of quiet evenings playing video games or watching movies when neither of us had the energy to be social; him because of football and me because of my studies.

To this day, I’m fairly certain it was his influence that led our fraternity brothers to accept me unconditionally, since lord knows a gay nerd isn’t a sought-after type of member. And even though they had to offer me a place because of my father, chances are without Bennet’s influence I might’ve received more than my fair share of hazing.

But Bennet never saw a gay nerd when he looked at me. He just saw…me. And being the charismatic guy he is, the simple act of accepting me for me enabled others to do the same. I actually have good friends in the frat, which I attribute to Bennet. He gave me the confidence to be who I am without reservation, and I’m as comfortable in my own skin as I’ve ever been thanks to him.

I’m also heartbroken or whatever, but I might bear some responsibility for that.

Taking another, normal-sized, sip, I reflect on where I might’ve gone wrong, and what I could’ve done differently.

Ignoring his boundaries is a hard no—I’d never do that to anyone—but maybe if I’d been paying closer attention, I’d have realized those boundaries had changed. I’d have picked up on the fact he was starting to ask questions, and been there to help him find answers.

Of course, he didn’t start asking questions until Damien came along, so maybe Bennet would still be straight if Damien hadn’t challenged that belief. Maybe things would be just as they always were, me hiding my feelings and pretending I wasn’t interested and him being totally oblivious to that dormant part of himself.

But it’s not dormant anymore, so it’s hard to keep my mind from wandering to that persistent question, why Damien? Why not me? And since it’s not me, can we even be friends anymore?

Best friend was a hard enough role to play when I thought his sexuality was the roadblock to my feelings, but best friend while he’s got a boyfriend? Can I even hang out with the two of them while they’re together?

So far, I’ve been able to avoid that situation. Careful planning, and a few sudden and demanding school projects that may or may not be real, have given me the excuse to be scarce. That won’t last forever though.

Dammit, why did Bennet have to fall for a guy I actually like? Avoiding them would be so much easier if I didn’t like the man in my best friend’s life.

A better question is why I never picked up on the fact that Bennet was confused about his sexuality. I’m not saying I should’ve been looking for cracks in the straight persona, but I find it hard to believe that he could go through that type of identity crisis without any outward signs. Why didn’t I see them? Is it because I took him at face value that he was straight? Should I have asked how he knew that about himself?

Jesus Aiden, get a grip.

I hate when people ask how I know I’m gay, so I could never be that ignorant in return. And I damn sure don’t want to be thought of as the guy who creeps on straight men. But maybe if I’m interested in someone, I should just say it. What’s the worst that could happen, they say they want to be friends?

Instead of waiting around for people to notice me I should be bold. Take chances. Put myself out there like the confident guy Icanbe.

Sort of like Kier is on stage.

I take another sip of my drink.That’s one way to get off the Bennet spiral.

Not that I’ve got a new crush or anything, although Kier is a captivating man, but he’s totally unattainable. Doesn’t even know I exist.

Bennet was unattainable too.

That thought nearly has me snorting whiskey all over the bar, earning me a wary glance from the bartender, but I can’t help that the irony is priceless enough to have me spewing my drink.

Not that Kier is the straight kind of unattainable—I think I read somewhere he’s actually gay—but he’s a renowned scholar in the AI/prosthetic space, and we’re only in the same city because he’s on a book tour. He’s completely out of reach.

A guy can dream though.

About a man who can capture a room’s attention just by walking into it. Whose velvety voice can inspire and excite while it seems to wrap you in a warm blanket. Whose penetrating blue eyes can appear to see into your soul, making it seem like he’s speaking directly to you rather than an auditorium full of people.

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