Ben cursed as his finger—the one which had been hovering over the send button—flexed on instinct and the noise of the email being sent pinged in his ears.

“Bad time?” Charlie grimaced, as he hung on the door frame of the portacabin.

Yes! Ben wanted to say as he waved Charlie in from the cold. Yes, it damn well is! His chest ached with embarrassment and prayed to god Charlie couldn’t see it.

Ben took a deep breath as he closed the window on his laptop. “No, you’re good. What’s up?” he said, sighing and leaning back in the uncomfortable plastic chair in what passed for his onsite office. It was hardly glamorous, and only marginally warmer than being out in the yard, with only marginally less mud.

“The replacement pump they brought in? That one’s not working either.” Charlie shrugged and tried to look like he wasn’t about to throw in the towel as he pushed his gloved hands deep into the pockets of his thick coat.

Ben sighed and pulled his cell from his jacket pocket, starting to flick through his contacts as he muttered, “I swear to god, those fucking guys are doing this on purpose.”

“You want me to send the boys home for the day?”

Ben shook his head. “No. No, spread them out on the framing as best you can this afternoon. Maybe if we can get ahead on that then we can double up and get the drainage sorted tomorrow if we can get a new pump in. Otherwise, we can send then over to Whiteplains. I think Gary could use some extra hands.”

Charlie replied with a nod, adjusted his hard hat, and disappeared as the door banged closed.

Ben took another deep breath and tried to calm himself. It wasn’t going to help anyone if he yelled at the poor receptionist at the plant company.

He didn’t want to be here today. Didn’t want to have to deal with this shit. Most days he didn’t mind his job. He enjoyed it a lot of the time. But he’d had almost a week to think about other things and it was driving him crazy. About what it felt like to kiss a man, what a man’s mouth felt like on him, and about perhaps how he’d been cheated out of real happiness at every turn in his life.

It had been Charlie’s idea, weirdly enough. But then as kid brothers go, Charlie had always been a good guy. Admittedly, his suggestion wasn’t exactly, “try browsing Craigslist and see if you can hook up with a male escort just once so you stop acting like a bear with a sore head and making everyone miserable.” Except that’s exactly what had happened.

Ben had been so nervous about the whole sorry situation. He genuinely thought that he might throw up when he saw the guy waiting for him on the bench as they had arranged. It was one thing to email a hooker on the internet, late at night, three beers deep, but in real life it was something else.

But he hadn’t throw up. And the guy in question didn’t turn out to be some sleazy, crackhead whore who was going to steal his wallet. In fact, he’d looked more like a librarian than anything else, and had been sweet and understanding, with a grip like a strap wrench and the softest lips Ben had ever experienced.

He told himself it was going to be a one time thing. Just so that he could get this itch out of his system. So that he could know once and for all that all these feelings he’d had all his life meant nothing. Except it hadn’t quite worked out that way.

After the initial exhilaration, and the subsequent guilt, mostly Ben felt in awe of the whole experience. It could have gone much much worse but Cal handled his virginal nervousness with kindness and just the right amount of encouragement. And sure, for the first few nights afterwards, alone in his room, Ben had happily jerked off to the memory of Cal unzipping him, holding him, and stroking him until he came with a surprised gasp and the tear that Cal quickly wiped away. But then the memory wasn’t enough.

Ben had written the email in much the same state as when he first opened the personal ads—drunk and maudlin—and had never really intended to send it. What he’d written was a bit sappy, saying how much he’d enjoyed his time and would like more if Cal had any appointments free. Christ, he even added his phone number so that they didn’t have to communicate where anyone could see it. Which was crazy being that the guy must get a ton of creepy messages from desperate losers everyday.

Perhaps if Ben hadn’t clicked the damn send button by accident, he might never have sent it. He’d only been reading the email through, toying with the idea of sending it without intending to, like he had for almost a week. But now, thanks to Charlie, the decision had somewhat been taken out of his hands. Ben would have quite happily gone on reading it ‘one last time’ for the next two months or more, persuading himself that he’d be ruining a good thing by going back; that Cal might not be so perfect second time around. And he was just starting to believe it too.

Ben shook his head at no one when the text tone on his phone roused him. All his fretting and pining meant nothing ultimately. Cal sold his body for money at the end of the day. Ben could do better.

He’d expected the text to be Gary bitching about the delivery they were expecting, or Charlie letting him know how it was going out in the cold, or even Ella reminding him to pick up Bonnie up from school. But it wasn’t.

It was a number he didn’t know.

Hey Ben. It’s good to hear from you. I’m booked the rest of this week. How does next Tuesday sound? Same time? You can meet me at the apartment. Just say the word. C.

Yeah, he could definitely do better. But for now, Ben thought Tuesday sounded pretty good.