“You’re here to meet Nadia, of course.”
“Yes. This is my friend Ben.”
Ben shook hands with Colin. Colin didn’t have a fucking clue who Ben was. Ben smiled at him widely.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” Colin turned back to Stan. “You know, Nadia was something for a prodigy while she was with us. I think she’s going places, don’t you?”
Stan reached back blindly as Colin led them farther into the backstage area, and Ben gripped at his fingertips. He was a little fascinated about the similarities between backstage at a fashion event and what he was used to seeing backstage at a music gig. Lots of people running around. Many hands making a few people look good.
Ben stepped to the side when Colin introduced Stan to Nadia, and leaned against a wall while Colin slipped away and Stan enthused about the collection. He forgot about Ben for a few moments, laughing with the young woman and offering high praise for her work.
When Nadia glanced over at Ben, she did a double-take. It was maybe too much to ask for to not be recognised all night.
“Hi,” he said, offering her his hand to shake. “I’m Ben. I’m here with Stan.”
“Nadia. Oh my God, I can’t believe Ben Easton just watched my first show. Holy shit.”
Ben laughed. He really didn’t mind her kind of open enthusiasm.
“It was amazing,” he said truthfully. “I really loved that bright pink suit.”
“You did? Holy shit. You can have it if you want. I’ll go rip it off the model and you can take it with you.”
“Tell you what,” Ben said, fighting to keep the smile off his face, and failing. “The next time I have to go to some horrendous event with lots of paparazzi shoving cameras in my face, I’ll call you and you can let me borrow it. Then when they ask me who I’m wearing, I can say something interesting for once.”
Nadia looked like she might burst. “That would be incredible. Oh my God. Thank you so much.”
“Thank you for having us,” Stan said. “I’m going to write something up, but I can’t guarantee it’ll get picked up by any particular publication. If it does, I’ll make sure you know. And congratulations, again.”
Nadia beamed and shook their hands, then reluctantly tore herself away to where a small huddle of other people had gathered to talk to her.
“I know a back way out from here,” Stan murmured, leaning in close as he led Ben away.
“She was great.”
Stan grinned at him, his face lighting up. “I agree. She’s going to be really good with a few more years’ experience behind her. I think you can still see some of her mentors’ influence in some pieces.”
“You’re talking to me like I have any idea what you mean,” Ben said, teasing him. “I just liked the pink suit.”
“It was definitely a highlight. I think I’m going to call it vivid raspberry in my write-up.”
“Pretentious.” Ben pretended to cough. “Bright pink works just as well.”
Stan ignored him. “The tailoring was incredible.”
“I’ll look good in it.”
“Ben, you know how much it pains me to agree with you.”
Ben bumped his shoulder against Stan’s and tried to hide his smile again.
They arrived back at the flat at the same time Tone was heading out for the evening, to a gig somewhere with a band Ben hadn’t heard of. That wasn’t so unusual. Tone kept an ear to the ground when it came to new and emerging music, and Ben had all but given up on that.
Ben was still tingling from head to toe. Time would tell whether tonight had been good for him or not, though he felt like it had skewed more positive. Being out in a crowd of people had set off his anxiety for years now, since he’d been mobbed at a signing event that had been set up by some cowboy who didn’t get in proper security.
Stan had been right, though. No one there really cared who he was. Except Nadia, and she was sweet and respectful, so he was okay with that.
Ben kicked off his trainers and went to collapse on the sofa instead of going to bed. Stan wandered around, tidying up the kitchen and changing into loose joggers before joining him.
“Do you want to write anything tonight?” Ben asked. He reached for Stan’s legs on instinct, pulling them into his lap so he could stroke Stan’s ankles.
“No, I don’t think so.” Stan tipped his head back, his eyes closed. “I have most of it in my head already. I’ll do better if I sleep on it to form some opinions, then write it tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Ben said. They breathed together in contented silence for a while and Ben luxuriated in the uncomplicated companionship. He’d missed this. Not just being with Stan, but having that easy relationship with someone where words weren’t necessary.
Ben closed his eyes too. It felt like the right thing to do.
Chapter Eleven
For the next two days, Ben hid himself away in his room. Stan had to send Tone in with meals to make sure he ate. He didn’t seem to want to speak to Stan, or Tone, or anyone else.
It was maybe understandable. Stan had pushed him back into the world in a big way, with lots of people and lots of things that could have gone wrong. The fact that it had all been fine didn’t seem to matter.
Stan worked on his article and tried to understand. If Ben needed to retreat into his shell for a while to calm down and find his equilibrium again, Stan could respect that. He just wasn’t sure where the line was between giving Ben space and letting him wallow.
On the third day, Stan woke to the sound of guitar music coming from down the hall. At first he thought Ben was playing something through his laptop. It took a while for him to figure out Ben was playing it himself, on the guitar he hadn’t touched since they got back from LA.
For a long time, Stan lay still and listened.
It wasn’t easy to make out the music. The bedrooms were at the other end of the flat, and Ben’s soft strumming was competing with Tone’s snoring next door. Stan thought it probably didn’t matter what he was playing. The fact that he’d chosen to pick up the guitar again at all was something of a miracle.
Eventually his bladder won out over his curiosity, and Stan didn’t try to hide the sound of his footsteps as he went down to the bathroom. He felt guilty that he’d been eavesdropping. Ben had never minded playing his music with Stan around before… but that was before.
When he got out of the bathroom, after showering and washing his hair, the music had stopped.
Stan made a big, messy pile of fruit and yoghurt with honey for breakfast, with enough left over for the boys if they wanted some. He was busy, actively courting publications—both online and off—letting them know he was back in London and looking for work. He’d set up a video-call with his senior editor back in New York too, with a pitch prepared about how he could add value as a roving reporter working out of London, with easy access to the rest of Europe. They already had one on the team, but she was based in Italy. Stan was hopeful.
Tone was still sleeping, and snoring, when Ben got out of bed and headed to the bathroom. Stan glanced at the clock. It was a little after 9:30 a.m. This was good for him. Tone would likely sleep for a while longer yet, as he’d been out late the night before. Stan had heard him stumble in at around 2:00 a.m.