Picky Eater

Ch 18: Tim Sullivan

Every second of the night, and it didn't just stop when Ben was on the dance floor, but he felt connected to Nino. One string keeping them tied together. Sighing, Nino's body deflated, and he let go of the drink. He dragged himself to his feet and walked to the railing.

"Move it," Nino warned and Ben stepped back, watching Nino leap over the side and landing like it was nothing. He got a few drunken cheers from the crowd, and Ben rolled his eyes.

"Do you have to be so extra?" He asked a reasonable question, not moving as Nino approached. Just staring at Nino, Ben's face in a resting smile.

"Do you have to breathe?"

A puff of laughter escaped Ben's nose, and he reached down, taking Nino's hand. He pulled Nino along and led him to the dance floor with the others who cheered, and Nino tried playing coy, but Ben knew that genuine smile. Everyone huddled, dancing, jumping, and moving together, but within seconds Ben knew Nino could dance. The way his hips moved with ease. The way he actually knew what to do with his hands. Nino's cool hand slid around the back of Ben's neck, bringing him closer, and Ben's hand landed on his shoulders. Nino stole one and gave him a quick spin and they were dancing again.

Ben met Nino's eyes again, so aware of his body and his hands that everyone else on that dance floor faded away. Somehow, Ben's heartbeat thrummed louder in his ears than the music. A room with technicolor lights and pulsing beats, where only two people existed. This was magic.

***

Ben splashed some cold water on his face and let out a long sigh. It was at that point in the night where his head felt so heavy, he could curl up in a ball and fall asleep. The air was thicker, but the floor was uneven. Funny how being a lightweight made him a thousand times heavier.

"What did you say to Nino?" Ben asked while Lincoln was finishing up in the stall. His voice bounced against the concrete bathroom walls.

A sigh rattled around the stall. Lincoln said, "Nothing."

"Clearly you said something."

"I was just asking about you. I'm gonna go gray early because of you. You call me from a weird number to have Nino pick you up at a hotel and you refuse to explain why."

"I just got lost."

"In your own city?"

Lincoln emerged from the bathroom with one brow raised. He shook his head. "I also don't believe that little girl kicked you in the face. There's something I don't know." Lincoln washed his hands in the next seat, looking at Ben through the mirror. "You're always weird when Nino visits, but there's something different about this time."

"Well..." Ben held onto the sink edges and watched droplets spittle out of the faucet. "This might be the last visit."

Whipping around at Ben, Lincoln's eyes almost popped out of his head. "What?" He put his hand on Ben's shoulder with a firm, reassuring grip. "Oh, my god. Are you ok?"

"I'm..."

The next word was caught in Ben's throat. He wanted to say he was fine, but the word was forbidden. Everyone seemed to think being fine was a bad thing, but it was the best answer. He didn't want to drag Lincoln down by confessing that not seeing Nino again was like detonating a bomb in Ben's life, because if he wasn't allowed to be, he was definitely unhappy. Lincoln couldn't change anything, so it was pointless to make his friends worry.

Ben just said it, "I'm fine."

And Lincoln reacted the exact way Ben expected: absolutely over it. Just those two little words made Lincoln look like he was ready for bed, his entire body deflating into a sad lump.