Free Grown-up by Kim Fielding Page B

afraid I don’t have much fashion sense.”
    “Well, what kind of a homosexual are you? We’ll have to revoke your membership card!”
    Just then the waitress came by with a coffeepot in one hand and iced tea pitcher in the other. As she poured, she unsuccessfully tried not to smile at Austin’s comment. He winked at her, which made her snort an inelegant laugh and hurry away. If he weren’t in the middle of talking with Ben, he’d have stopped her to discuss some of the more embarrassing conversational snatches he’d overheard while waiting tables.
    He turned his full attention back to Ben, who was using his straw to drink instead of to murder his ice cubes. “Fashion sense or not, you’re definitely not an asshole, Ben.”
    “Maybe not. But I know what guys like you think when you see me.”
    “Guys like me?” Austin said, taken aback.
    “Yeah.” Although color rose in his cheeks, Ben forged ahead. “Hot guys. Cool guys. Guys who know how to dress and know where all the hip places are to eat, and who go to clubs, and…. You barely notice me. It’s like I’m negative space.”
    Austin wanted to dwell on the part where Ben had called him hot. But there was too much pain in Ben’s voice. “I notice you.”
    “Now. Because you want something from me.”
    Shit. That hurt. And maybe the reason it cut so deep was because it was pretty much straight-on true. Ben had worked for Sam for years and Austin had seen him dozens of times, but it wasn’t until Austin decided he needed a mentor that he paid the guy any attention. And even then, well, Austin had gone two weeks without so much as texting a thank-you. He tried to think of a way to apologize that wasn’t totally lame, but nothing came to mind.
    Ben sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… I’m not very good with people. I moved around so much as a kid that I never really learned how to do friendship.”
    “Don’t say sorry to me , Ben. I’m the one…. Look, I was stupid. About a lot of things, but you already know that. And I was blind, because you’re great. Not just because you know how to balance a checkbook either. You’re nice.” Okay, that was a pathetic thing to call someone, even if it was true. He needed to try harder. “You’re… sweet. You’re not a shallow screw-up like me. You’re real , solid. Like a mansion made of stone. And I’m just a mobile home that’s gonna fly away in the first big windstorm.”
    Ben paused with his straw in midstab, his eyebrows raised. “Did you just say that I’m a brick house?”
    “Sam likes the Commodores, as you probably already know. And I said stone, not brick.” Austin shrugged. “You’re goddamn adorable, actually.”
    And he looked even more so when he blushed.
    Those words hung there for a few minutes as neither of them said anything more. Adorable . It echoed in Austin’s skull, and he realized it could mean several things. A kitten was adorable. Kyle’s girlfriend, who was teeny-tiny next to his bulk and who wore a lot of pink and had dimples when she smiled but didn’t take any shit from anyone? She was adorable. The armoire Sam had custom-made for a client the previous year to look like the Narnia wardrobe, complete with carved faun and lamppost—completely adorable. But that sexy guy across the dance floor, the one with the toned body and perfect hair, he was adorable too.
    Which kind of adorable was Ben? Austin wasn’t sure.
    “Sometimes I wish…,” Ben began. But then he stopped and bit his lip.
    “What?”
    “I don’t mind being stodgy most of the time. I love my job. I love my home. I sleep better at night knowing I have insurance.”
    “You built yourself a safety net.”
    “Exactly. And I’m glad.” He huffed a heavy breath and pushed his glass farther away. “But sometimes I wish I’d had a chance to be an irresponsible kid. Just for a little while.”
    “Not twenty-eight years?” Austin asked.
    Ben grinned. “Maybe just a month or two.”
    And another