Totally and Completely Fine(13)

“They don’t care about…” I trailed off, not knowing exactly how to ask a question that really wasn’t my business to ask.

“Care about what?”

“Nothing,” I said. “I was just thinking of the last time they were casting Bond.”

I saw him make the connection.

Even though it was common knowledge, Ben hadn’t said anything to me about his sexuality. It must be weird having strangers know that kind of information about your personal life.

He didn’t seem bothered, though.

“As far as I can tell they don’t care that I’m bi,” Ben said. “They haven’t mentioned it.”

I didn’t say anything.

“It’s a different director. Different team. Things have changed since—” Ben paused. “Since the Ollie of it all.”

It had taken a while for the whole story to be told, but the role had been offered originally to Ollie, until they realized he didn’t intend to stay in the closet. That’s how Gabe had gotten the gig. One that plenty of people still thought he hadn’t deserved.

“I guess they have,” I said.

It hadn’t changed much in Cooper. Not outwardly, at least. Unlike the military, we still had a strong, unofficial “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy in our town. Then again, Gabe always joked that Montana was about five years behind the national average of cultural progress. At least.

Ben might not be sure if he was going to get the role, but I was. He was perfect. More than Gabe had been.

I loved my brother, but he’d been an unexpected—and controversial—choice. Ben wasn’t. He had that subtle mix of sophistication and danger, which had been reflected in his past roles.

“How many movies?” I asked.

Gabe had gotten locked into three immediately—and then fired from the last one for, well, lots of reasons. Only some of which I knew he regretted.

“At least two,” he said. “Probably four.”

“That’s a long stretch of work,” I said.

“Without a doubt. I’d be on set for the next five or six years of my life,” he said. “But it would be worth it.”

He stretched his arm out along the back of the couch, close enough that his forearm brushed my neck.

“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that this is all top secret,” he said.

“I’m very good at keeping secrets,” I said.

He gave me a wicked grin.

“Me too,” he said.

I took a drink and let myself sink further into the couch. It felt good. Just like it felt good to have Ben draw gentle, swirling patterns along the curve of my shoulder.

But I was scared. Nervous.

Ben sat there, still and casual, like he’d never even heard of nervousness, let alone experienced it.

I directed my attention to the other item on the table. The tray with a variety of circular glasses that had chrome toppers.

“What’s this?”

“A new unisex cologne that wants me as their spokesperson,” Ben said. “They sent me their stuff to sample.”

“And how is it?” I asked.

Ben put his drink down on the table and pulled the tray closer.

“Want to give it a try?”

I nodded, placing my drink next to his.

“There are four different options,” he said. “They’re supposed to represent the elements—earth, wind, fire, and water.”

I raised an eyebrow, and he shrugged.

“I’m just the messenger,” he said.

“Potential messenger,” I said.

He smiled at that. “Apparently you can wear them alone or layered together.”

We both looked at the tray in front of us.

“Want to try fire?” Ben asked.

I shivered. “Sure,” I said.

I reached for the bottles, but he got there first.

“It’s an oil-based cologne,” he said. “You can drop it directly onto your skin, or onto your fingers to press it into the desired spot.”

The top popped off to reveal an elegant glass dropper. I watched as Ben let several drops of the perfume fall onto his fingers.

“May I?” he asked.

It wasn’t until he gestured to my hand that I understood. I gave it to him.

“The best place for perfume is on the inside of the wrist.” He pressed his fingers to mine, his touch warm as he made gentle circles on the sensitive spot there.

I felt the moisture briefly before it sank into my skin, the scent rising upward. It had a smoky element, like a smoldering campfire on a summer night, with a hint of jasmine.

“It’s also good to put some behind the ear,” Ben said, using his other hand to push my hair off my shoulder, giving him access to my neck.

I tilted my head, exposing myself to him, as my consent.

He drew a small circle there too, near where my earring dangled. The feel of his fingers—a little rough, warm—against my skin was even more intoxicating than the scent.

“There’s one other place where they recommend you put perfume. May I?” he asked.

“Mm-hmm,” I said.

This time it was his thumb that he anointed with oil. I closed my eyes, and he pressed it into the hollow of my throat, that circular indent between my clavicles. A spot I never knew could feel so many sensations. I imagined that I could feel the whorl of his thumbprint, each delicate line—that he was leaving his mark along with the perfume.