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    Wade
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Blake & Ben (A New Beginning) - 8. Chapter 8 - "Our First Date"

- BLAKE ABEL FOSTER -

I give Ben's hand another firm squeeze as my father approaches Ben's window. Ben’s left index finger pushes down on the window control as the window begins rolling down.

"Cut the music," my father says, motioning with his right hand towards Ben's radio. Ben releases his grip on my hand and follows my father's orders. My hand immediately feels cold and lonely without Ben’s touch. Other than the vehicle itself, running, and the air conditioning being pumped into the interior, it is eerily quiet. Eerie because of the situation. Everything seems to be moving slower than usual. The tension is palpable. Why did Ben get pulled over in the first place? He came to a complete stop at the stop sign back there and, of all people, why was my father just sitting on the outskirts of the subdivision? Ben grabs hold of my hand again. Like they were long lost friends, my hand squeezes his.

I see my father's right hand reach into the interior. "License... and registration, please." Just the way it emits from his lips, it's full of arrogance and intent. What that intent is, I don't know. But, I already feel my blood boiling. "Same goes for your passenger, there."

My father leans down to peer into the vehicle and just like that, his arrogant demeanor diminishes when he sets eyes on me. He looks at me and eyes my swollen bottom lip - swollen and cut from his own hand. His eyes then drift down to the middle console at our hands, fingers interlocked. To get the point across, and to throw it in my father's face, my thumb brushes back and forth across Ben's. He looks back up at me with disgust and I return the sentiment.

He straightens up and extends his hand again, all of the cockiness leaving his voice. "License and registration."

Ben releases his grip again and fishes in his back pocket for his wallet. He finds it and brings out his driver's license. My hand doesn’t recognize the coldness and loneliness this time. I don’t realize it until I look over towards Ben, but my hand is actually balled up into a fist - pent up with anger and hatred towards my father. Ben leans over and searches in the glove compartment for the registration papers. Leaning back in his seat, I give him my license as well. Ben hands everything to my father who snatches them from Ben quickly and in a rude manner, then walks back to his patrol vehicle.

I spin around in my seat and watch my father get back into the Liberty Police Department issued SUV. I see him bring the in-car microphone to his mouth as he begins reading our information to the dispatcher. I turn back around in my seat and look at Ben. "What a fucking asshole. Sorry, Ben."

"What did I even do? I spotted the cop car so, I made sure I came to a complete stop."

"Who fucking knows. He probably ran your license plate, knew it was you and decided to pick on you. Don't worry. I've done plenty of ride-alongs with him. I know how this is going to work. Right now, he's running our driver's licenses. He's checking your driving record and seeing if you have any warrants. You're not a wanted fugitive, are you handsome?"

He smiles at me. "I might be. What are you going to do about it?"

"Well," I say with a flirty grin, "I have a pair of handcuffs in my room and I'm afraid I'll have to place you under arrest and have my way with you when we get done eating." I wink at him. He eyes the rearview mirror, still worried. "Ben... don't worry. Worst thing he can do right now is issue you a ticket for not wearing a seat belt. That ticket is like ten dollars. Hell, I'll pay it for you." I grab his hand and bring it to my lips. I plant a kiss on it, and to pull him out of his paranoia, I flick the tip of my tongue across the back of it. This immediately brings his eyes, wide and bright, to mine. I give him a big, goofy grin.

He smiles at me. "You're fuckin' adorable. Now, stop, cutie. Shit, here he comes." Ben straightens up in his seat.

"If he tries anything else, let me do the talking. If growing up with a cop has taught me anything, I know what they legally can and cannot do. Just go by what I say, got it?" Ben nods his head as my father approaches the driver's side window again. He hands Ben the registration, followed by our driver's licenses. Ben hands my license back to me. As childish as it sounds, I almost don't want to touch it, because my father... no, fuck that... Officer Foster, was just holding it.

I see my father's hand rest down on the ledge of Ben's rolled down window. The gold ring, which symbolizes his love and commitment, not only to my mother, but to the family as a unit, is still on his ring finger.

Take that shit off, Officer. You're not fooling anybody.

He grips the ledge. "Is there anything illegal in this vehicle?"

Ben looks at me. I shake my head no. Ben looks back up at my father. "No, Officer."

Oh, my handsome boy, don't stroke his ego. He doesn't deserve that respect. Just keep it strictly ‘yes’ or ‘no.’

I notice my father's grip tighten on the ledge of the door again. He's up to something. "Mind if I take a look and search the vehicle for myself?" Now, I know he's up to something. Ben is about to grab the door handle, allowing my father access to his vehicle to do what? Plant something in here? Normally, I wouldn't think my father would do something like that. But, after his reaction to my coming out, and the shadiness behind this traffic stop, I'm not so sure.

"No!" I growl, beyond pissed at this point. "You cannot search this vehicle. You do not have probable cause, Officer Foster. You must have some facts or evidence to believe we may be in possession of narcotics, firearms, alcohol, etcetera. Nothing in your initial contact with us, or this vehicle, could possibly lead you to believe we are in possession of such things. Now, either issue my boyfriend a ticket or release us so that we may be on our way."

Ben looks at me. I can see something in his eyes. Adoration? Pride? Whatever it is, it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He glares back up at my father. "No, Officer. You may not search my vehicle." I can't see my father's face, but I'd pay money to right now. He has to be pissed.

Sorry, Pops! But, I'm not letting you bully the love of my life.

I see my father's hand relinquish it's grip on the door ledge as he steps away. "Get the hell out of here."

Before Ben puts the car in drive, I lean over the middle console, the side of my head right in front of Ben's face. I look up at my father, determination in my eyes. "Don't try pulling this shit again, or I'll tell Mom what you're trying to do. I'm sure she won't mind passing that information, along with pictures of my busted lip, to your chief. And while we're at it, don't call me like you did this morning. I want no further contact with you." I lean back over to my seat. But, before I do, I notice a flash of something in my father's eyes. Guilt? Remorse? Hurt? Am I a fucking eye reader now? I don't know. And quite frankly, I don't give a damn. "Let's go, baby." I tell Ben, placing my hand, lovingly, on his inner-thigh as a cheap shot to my Dad. Ben checks his mirrors before pulling back out into traffic. I wish I was of legal age, because I sure could use a beer when we get to Chili's.

-BENJAMIN JAXON SMITH -

I breathe a sigh of relief as we pull away from Blake's father. "H'oh, geez! That was... intense."

"He's a fuckin' prick. I think he was up to something. I hate him so much, Ben."

I grab Blake's hand from my thigh and kiss it. "I know, baby. But, you handled yourself and the situation very well. I'm so proud of you." I roll my window down again and shout at the top of my lungs. "My boyfriend is amazing, ladies and gentlemen!"

"Guess I better get used to you doing this to me all the time." I look over at Blake rubbing his red cheeks. Score! I didn't mean to embarrass him and make him blush, but I'll take it.

I smile at him as we approach a stoplight. "Ha! Blushville, population you, babe!" He smiles and playfully punches my shoulder. "You know what I just realized? This will be our first official 'date.' You ready for this?" I'm sure he knows what I mean by that. We'll be out together, in public, as a couple. I don't plan on stifling myself. If I want to hold his hand, I'm going to hold his hand. If I want to kiss him, I'm going to kiss him.

I see him look at me out of the corner of my eye as I pull away from the traffic once the light turns green. "Of course I am, handsome. I don't plan on hiding anything. I'm not afraid anymore. New Blakey-Boo, remember?"

"Blakey-Boo?" I look at him from the corner of my eye with a cocked eyebrow and a smile.

"Yes, Benny Boy. I'm your Blakey-Boo. Gotta' problem with that?"

I chuckle under my breath. "Only problem I have with it is that I didn't come up with it first... Blakey-Boo."

The music is playing, faintly, over my car’s speakers and I kind of recognize it but, I’m not paying much attention to it. All I can think about is how hot it was seeing Blake stand up for himself. To see him take charge of the situation. My heart swells with pride for him. He needed to release that pent up emotion on his father. And, to be quite honest, his father deserv-…

“OOOOH!” Blake yells, releasing his grip on my hand to turn the volume up on the radio. Nicki Minaj’s “Super Bass” blares over the speakers. Without missing a beat, Blake picks up on the lyrics right along with Nicki.

“…kiss him on the lip-lip. That’s the kinda’ dude I was lookin’ fo’. And, yes, you’ll get slapped if you lookin’, hoe! I said, ‘Excuse me, you’re a hell of a guy…’”

Just then, he reaches over and gives my upper thigh a squeeze to let me know he’s referring to me.

“…I mean, m-m-my-my like pelican fly. I mean, you’re so shy and I’m lovin’ your tie. You’re like slicker than the guy with the thing on his eye. Oh! Yes, I did! Yes, I did. Somebody please tell ‘em who the “F” I is. I am Blakey Foster. I mack them dudes up, back coupes up and chuck the deuce up.”

To follow suit with what he just said, he throws up a peace sign with an arrogant face, really getting into the music. God, he’s cute. He then looks over at me and begins singing the chorus with Nicki.

“Boy, you got my heartbeat runnin’ away. Beatin’ like a drum and it’s comin’ your way. Can’t you hear the boom-da-boom-boom, boom-da-boom-boom bass? He got that super bass. Boom-da-boom-boom, boom-da-boom-boom bass! Yeah, that’s that super bass!”

I pull the vehicle into Chili's parking-lot and search for the closest available parking spot. Blake is still busting out the chorus, all the while bouncing each shoulder up and down individually with the music, fists raised up near his chest, bee-bopping to the “boom-da-boom-booms” of the chorus. I find the closest parking spot and ease into it. I put the car in park, and pull the key back and out. The music is still being pumped through the speakers and will continue to do so until one of us opens his door. I glare over at Blake, still shimmying up a storm in my passenger seat. I reach over and turn the volume down a bit so he can hear me. “I swear to God, if you get any cuter, I’m going to throw up.”

He stops dancing and smiles a big smile at me. He leans over the middle console. “Come here,” he says, grabbing at my shirt sleeve. He pulls me into his kiss. A couple of slow pecks on his soft lips and I’m light-headed and dizzy. He pulls away and looks into my eyes. His smile gets even bigger and he growls a little, for theatrics, and leans back in for another kiss. This time, it’s a bit more passionate. Our lips part ways, but, his face remains close to mine. Sweetly, he brushes the tip of his nose with mine, going back and forth. “I love you, Ben.”

I rest my forehead on his and brush my nose across his. “I love you…” I don’t say his name. I don’t have to. My heart belongs, solely, to this boy right here. He’s the only one. With him, there is no second. No third, no fourth or fifth. No side hoe. No boy toy. Nobody. He’s my one and only. I’ve only known him for a short time but, when I’m with him, I’m complete. Hell, I didn’t even know I was missing a part of myself until his hands were on that box the day we moved in, helping me catch my grip. I don’t know when he started having feelings for me but, I can say with all honesty, I felt it right then and there.

[b]-BLAKE ABEL FOSTER-[/b]

We enter Chili’s, my favorite restaurant, and wait for the hostess behind the greeting podium to look up from her cell phone. I don’t recognize her at first, only because I’m in love with the scent of Ben’s cologne, and find myself wondering what kind it is. Suddenly, she looks up, startled at the fact that two customers had just walked in and she didn’t even notice. That’s when I recognize her and she recognizes me - Taylor Hatfield, Gavin’s twin sister.

My stomach automatically starts feeling sour and suddenly, I’m no longer hungry. Not because of Taylor. Taylor and I always got along when I was with Gavin. We actually became “besties.” Although, after the break-up with Gavin, we sort of lost contact with each other - outside of the occasional “like” or comments made on each other’s posts on Facebook. Her eyes light up and she darts out from behind the podium and immediately has her arms around my neck, pulling me into a hug.

“BLAAAKE!” She screams, almost a little too loudly for the restaurant. Not sure what to do at first, and because I feel Ben’s eyes on me, I don’t hug back. I feel her tighten her grip and like a reflex, my right arm wraps around her side and my hand finds the middle of her back, pulling her into my body. “Hey, Taylor.” I say with a nervous chuckle. She relinquishes her grip and backs up a bit.

“Oh, my God, Blake! I haven’t seen you in forever. How long has it been?” I go to answer, but, Taylor being Taylor, she takes the lead in any conversation - you’re lucky to get a word in edgewise. “I saw on Facebook the other day that you’re in a relationship. So, spill the beans! Who is he? Is he cute? Well, that was stupid. Of course he HAS to be cute. I mean, look at you. Is it serious? Have you guys, ya‘ know… Is he [b][I]really[/b][/I] into you?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself.” I say, stepping closer to Ben’s side and taking his left hand in my right. Ben leans forward a bit and extends his free hand to Taylor. “Ben Smith.” She looks over at Ben, a little shocked at first. Then, the smile comes back to her face. Her eyes dart back to me for a quick second, and I can tell by her expression and her demeanor she thinks Ben’s cute and she’s into him - even if he is gay.

Before either one of them can say anything, I speak up, agreeing with Taylor’s quick glance back at me, “I know, right?” A huge smile is plastered across my face. “I’ll say.” Taylor says, beginning to get a little flirty. “You sure you’re just into guys?”

I step away from Ben a little and towards Taylor with mock anger, “Hey! Back off, bitch! He’s mine!” I give her a quick wink and she giggles. Ben pulls me back to him, wraps an arm around my shoulder and answers the questions posed by Taylor moments ago, “Blake seems to think I’m cute and that’s all that matters to me. Yes, he and I are serious. Yes, we have, ya’ know…” I elbow him in the ribs, lightly. He doesn’t flinch, and continues answering her questions, “Yes, I am really into him. And no, I’m not into guys. No plural. I’m into one guy and one guy only.” With those words, he leans in and places a kiss on my temple. My heart melts immediately. Not just because of the kiss but, because of what he just said.

Stressing it, maybe a little too much, Taylor belts out an, “Awwwww!” My cheeks flush red, fearing she’s drawing a lot of attention our way. I speak up to avoid further embarrassment from my ex-boyfriend’s sister. “Any further questions, your honor? Or may my boyfriend come down from the stand so we can eat some delicious food?”

She smiles a reassuring smile and grabs two menus from behind the podium and walks us to our table. “Just Like a Pill” by P!NK is playing over the restaurant’s sound system as we sit in a small booth made for two people.

[I]Geez. This song? How fitting, considering I just ran into my ex‘s sister.[/I]

I may hate Gavin’s guts with every fiber of my being but, I can’t hate Taylor. It’s my fault our friendship took a turn for the worse. After what Gavin did to me, I wanted no reminders of him. And Taylor - she was a big one. Being his twin sister, she did share similar characteristics: eye color, hair color, personality, body size, you name it. She tried keeping the friendship alive with daily texts. She only stopped when I didn’t bother replying to them. For that, I feel like shit. I make a mental note to get in touch with her again in the future and rekindle the friendship we once had.

“Your waiter will be right with you,” she says, placing a menu in front of Ben and the other in front of me. As she walks away from the table, she lightly punches my shoulder. I look back at her, she’s walking backwards holding a thumb up and winking at me. I give her a smile and wink back. I turn back around and see Ben’s soft eyes on mine.

“I like her,” he says. “What’s her name?”

“Taylor,” I answer, looking back over my shoulder. She’s back on her phone, quickly typing on her phone.

“Taylor what? Does she have a last name, silly?”

“Hatfield,” I say, looking back at Ben.

“Hatfield? As in…” He glances over my head and over at Taylor, back at her podium. “I thought she looked kind of familiar. Couldn’t place it though. So, is her brother that douchebag that I met at the mall the other day?”

My eyes leave his and fall to a random spot on the table. The memory of the mall a few days ago replaying in my head - Gavin approaching me, hugging me - much like Taylor did moments ago. Crap! I know Ben must hate Gavin almost as much as I do. What must he think about me interacting with Gavin’s sister like I just did? God, he must be mad now. Suddenly, I feel Ben’s hand on top of my own, pulling me back to his eyes.

“Blake, I’m not mad.”

Trying to act nonchalant, I clear my throat and start messing around with the packets of sugar placed in their little holder on the table. “I wasn’t thinking that.”

“Yes, you were, Blake. I could see the worry plastered all over your face. You’re not that hard to read… cutie. Still, though, even knowing who she is, she seems cool. You should see what time she gets off. Maybe we can hang out afterwards.” He smiles, opens the menu and begins browsing through the selection of appetizers, entrées and desserts.

“Afterwards? I, uh… have something planned for us… afterwards.” His head darts up as he feels my right foot going up the side of his leg.

“If you bring up the handcuffs again, that might freak me out.” He starts chuckling and I follow suit.

“No, handsome. I was kidding about the handcuffs. But, I’m still going to have my way with you when we get done eating. You can take that to the bank, Frank!”

“Frank?”

I look up from my menu and glare at Ben through squinted, mock angry eyes. “Shut up,” I say, followed by a smile. I look back down at my menu, browsing over words like, “Fresh!” and “Try our new…” But, the words don’t really register in my brain. My thoughts travel back to the times I spent with Gavin. The times spent with Taylor. The times spent with both of them. It’s all in the past but, I miss those days sometimes. Not so much anymore. But, how many people get into a relationship and get both a significant other and a best friend? It was like a package deal.

[I]Wait. What the hell am I thinking?[/I]

My head slowly looks back up at Ben, still studying his menu - his eyebrows cocked down, looking very serious. That’s one thing I’ve noticed about him. When he’s really studying something, looking at it and really thinking about it, his face gets very serious. Like he’s taking everything in and cataloging it all in his brain. He makes this same face when he traces the contours of my face. I smile at him. I got the package deal again. Ben isn’t only my boyfriend, he’s my best friend. He’s there for me just as much as Chris. I try to avoid the thought, because it sounds so cliché, and I hate clichés but, I think it anyway.

[I]I’m the luckiest guy in the world.[/I]

I roll my eyes at the thought, just because it sounds so cliché. But, I can’t help it. I really am the luckiest guy in the world. I love Ben. He’s the only person that makes my heart beat fast and slow at the same time. He’s the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about before going to sleep at night. Since coming out, and truly accepting myself for who I am, Ben’s been there. He was there when I came out to my parents. He was my first in a big way, and I’m glad I lost my virginity to someone as amazing as him. Chris kept me balanced, kept me sane after my break-up with Gavin. If it wasn’t for Chris, I’d hate to see the guy I may have turned in to.

And, now, I have Ben. God, he’s amazing and gorgeous to boot. He slowly closes the menu, places it on the edge of the table and looks at me. His face looks as though he’s a little caught off guard.

“What?” He asks.

“What do you mean, ‘What?’”

“You’re smiling at me like a buffoon right now. It’s creeping me out! Staaahp!”

To be honest, I didn’t know I was even smiling at him. I can’t help it. This is how truly happy he makes me. He looks out across the partially busy restaurant, then back at me to see if I’m still smiling at him - I am.

A hint of red burns across his cheeks, “I said stop, babe.”

“Finally! Thank you! Got you to blush for a change!”

As the waiter approaches, the text tone on my iPhone goes off, informing me that I just received a text message. I motion for Ben to go ahead and place his order while I fish my phone out of my pocket. Pulling it out of my pocket, it shows a text from a random number - someone who is obviously not a contact in my phone.

[I]Random Number: “So ur out & flaunting him around town?”[/I]

Confused, I begin tapping my response on the keyboard.

[I]Me: “Who is this?”[/I]

I see the little grey bubble pop up with three dots, showing the person is typing in their response. This person obviously has an iPhone, too. I notice little things like that. I look up for a moment, but that only lasts a split second as my text tone goes off again. I don’t know why, but I have a sour feeling in the pit of my stomach and suddenly, I’m not hungry. I look down at the screen.

[I]Random Number: “Itz Gavin…”[/I]

Copyright © 2015 Wade; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Good resolution to the traffic stop. Those shots to his dad hit home. His dad is an idiot. By calling in the info to dispatch, he just provided proof if need be that he was harassing them.

 

Now Gavin is ruining a perfectly good meal with his texts. Just turn off the phone and ignore him. That hurts worse than anything. More please.

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