Page 41 of Operation Sunshine
“Is it much farther?” Ben asked. He kept stealing glances at Franco as they walked, as if to convince himself this was real: the gentle slope of Franco’s shoulders in the streetlight, his eyes darting to Ben every few steps, as if making sure Ben was still there.
“We’re nearly there.” Franco gestured to their surroundings. “This is Black Forest. I’ve lived here about six years. It’s a nice neighbourhood, handy for the restaurant.”
“I appreciate you waiting until the others had all gone their separate ways before heading home.”
Franco’s lips twitched. “Okay, two things about that. I figured you’d feel a bit awkward if I asked you to come back to my flat in front of everyone.”
Ben chuckled. “And you’d be right. What’s the other thing?”
His eyes gleamed. “They’re not stupid, so don’t delude yourself into thinking we got away with it.”
Ben wasn’t paying much attention to the bare trees that lined the avenue. His mind kept flashing to that look on Franco’s face in the van on the way home: open, gentle, as though he had been offering something fragile and precious in his palms.
A look that had terrified Ben and undone him in the same instant.
He remembered other things, too, from his pre-Adelaide life: nights alone in a too-large bed, how he’d trained himself to escape every sexual encounter he’d ever been through before intimacy could seep in.
How he’d run from it before things became too real.
But tonight, he wasn’t running, and that was down to the man walking beside him.
They reached Franco’s building, a line of two-story houses. Ben followed Franco up the ironwork steps to his front door. Ben’s breathing caught at the sight of Franco fumbling with the keys.
He’s as undone as I am right now.
Maybe just as breakable too.
Franco finally pushed the door open and turned. The hallway light hit his face, and Ben saw everything there: desire, fear, awe, and a silent question:Do you still want this? Do you still want me?
Right then Ben wasn’t sure what he wanted, but Franco’s offer of a drink seemed like a good start.
The living room was uncluttered, its white walls lined with prints, mostly landscapes, but one picture caught his attention. It was a pencil drawing of two men, clearly lovers, and their expressions, the naked emotion in their eyes captured perfectly by the artist, constricted Ben’s chest. He stood in front of it, unable to tear his gaze away from the men lost in each other.
What must it feel like to be one of them?
It had been years since he’d allowed himself to feel anything for real. His life had followed a pattern: Too many years of burying emotions under work, under achievement, behind walls so thick that nothing could break through.
Franco had chipped away at those walls, bit by bit, without even trying.
“Make yourself comfortable. Coffee’s on,” Franco called from the kitchen.
Ben barely heard him.
Franco had pulled him since the day they met, and Ben had done his best to ignore it, without much success. There was something about the man that made him feel seen in a way he hadn’t in years. His reckless energy, his chaotic passion, the way he lived so freely, so openly, both fascinated and terrified Ben in equal measure. It was as if Franco had tapped into a part of him Ben had long since abandoned.
“You okay?” The chink of cups on the coffee table announced Franco’s presence.
Ben didn’t answer immediately. He didn’twantto answer, not yet. He wasn’t ready to share the mess of thoughts swirling in his head, to be vulnerable, to admit that everything he’d built his life around—his career, his walls, his detachment—felt suddenly small, insignificant, and suffocating.
“I’m fine.” The words came out too tight, too rehearsed. When Franco didn’t respond, Ben turned his head to look at him.
Franco arched his eyebrows, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Right. ‘Fine.’ That’s what you always say.”
“Hey, it’s been a long day,” Ben retorted. “Are you telling me those team-building exercises didn’t wipe you out? Mentally, if not physically?”
He laughed. “They were fun.” There went his eyebrows again. “Especially when my hands slipped.”
“About that...” Ben narrowed his gaze. “That was all deliberate, wasn’t it?”
