Page 68 of Ballsy
Good, but why?Eliot texted back.
Sam asked me to marry him.
Eliot responded almost immediately with a string of emojis, which Ben deciphered to mean he was excited and trying to congratulate him.
For a man who could express himself so beautifully in full sentences, his texts were often borderline incomprehensible.
Thanks. Going now.Ben texted back as he was handed his receipt and instructed to head to the check-in desk.
He didn’t have anything except the clothes on his back and whatever was in his pockets to go with, but he didn’t care. Sam was waiting for a response.
He was probably expecting it when he got back, but they’d both done enough waiting in their lives.
Patience was a virtue, but putting things off was cowardice, and Ben wasn’t a coward anymore. He wasn’t going to put this off.
He got through check-in and security without incident and headed into the departure lounge, scanning the crowd for Sam and finally spotting him in an isolated corner, sitting on one seat with his bag resting on another.
Ben approached as casually as he could, standing a little to the side.
“Do you mind if I sit here?” he asked.
Sam looked up, and his whole face changed. His eyes widened, and then he broke into the widest, happiest grin Ben had ever seen on him.
“You can always sit next to me,” Sam said, moving his bag without pausing for a moment.
The lounge was a long way from crowded, so he needn’t have bothered, but Ben appreciated the gesture.
“I have to apologize for opening that envelope early,” Ben said, taking the seat he’d been offered.
“No need,” Sam responded. “It was your envelope.”
“Based on the contents, I thought I’d come with you. If that’s okay?”
“Always,” Sam said, his voice soft. “I hate to push, but is this a yes?”
Ben smiled at him. “It’s a yes,” he said.
Sam bit his lip, tears springing up in his eyes. “Good.”
He reached out to take Ben’s hand, squeezing it firmly. Ben took it as a sign that he wasn’t about to let him go.
That was just as well, because he wasn’t about to let Sam go, either.
