Page 10 of When Ben Loved Jace (He Loved Him #2)

I’m bursting with pride as I walk across the college campus.

That has everything to do with the man at my side.

Jace looks dapper in his flight attendant uniform.

He finally flew into town again after two weeks of waiting and wanting.

We’re at the mercy of his schedule, which explains why his appearances at my workplace were so erratic.

I’m okay with that for now. If anything, it keeps things fresh.

Although having a boyfriend I haven’t even slept with yet does feel odd. We’re still taking baby steps.

Or long strides, because Jace is so tall that I often have to scramble to keep up with him.

I’ve learned to solve this issue by attaching myself to his arm.

That way he realizes if I’m falling behind while I also get pulled along.

The excuse to touch him is a nice bonus.

We go to the commons for lunch, which is really just a cafeteria, but to call it that would remind everyone too much of high school.

Soon we’re seated across from each other, and I’m wondering how I’ll get a single bite past my perma-smile.

“How long will you be in town?” I ask.

“I plan on staying overnight,” Jace says, placing a napkin over his lap. He’s so civilized!

“Do you have somewhere to stay?” I ask casually.

He meets my lustful gaze, but I see no assumptions there. “I have a friend who lives in the area.”

I perk up. “Do you mean me?”

He chuckles. “No. You’re my boyfriend.”

“I love how that sounds.”

“So do I,” he says, smiling subtly while salting his food.

I still can’t stop grinning. “I wouldn’t mind sleeping together again,” I say. “Like we did before.”

Waking up in his arms had been glorious. Especially when he got up to make us coffee. He’d looked so gorgeous, standing there at the kitchen counter while bathed in the morning light, my boner throbbing endlessly.

“Sounds good to me,” Jace replies. “I’m curious to see where you live.”

“It’s pretty cramped. But I guess you’re used to that.”

He studies me a moment. “Small things are beautiful.” Then he shrugs. “Or so I’ve always thought. ”

“The bigger the better,” I reply breathlessly. “That’s my motto.”

He smirks at this but doesn’t seem the slightest bit intimidated.

“Speaking of which,” I say, my mind clawing its way out of the gutter, “how come you don’t live with Greg in his house?”

I’ve been dying to ask him, despite having ample opportunity, since we do talk on the phone when he’s out of town. Although never for long. We both seem to agree that the important conversations should happen in person.

“I like the Airstream trailer,” Jace says.

“Same here. But I also like taking bubble baths and doing jumping jacks.”

“At the same time?”

“I’ve got all sorts of talents.”

He laughs. “The trailer is special to me. That one in particular. When I told you that Bernie had an Airstream like it parked next to the river I jumped into…”

Realization dawns. “It’s the exact same one?”

Jace nods. “He gave it to me as a graduation present. College, not high school, or else I wouldn’t have had to live in a dorm. He knew I wanted the trailer, because it was part of a bigger dream.”

I pop a french fry in my mouth, eager to learn more.

“Victor was a strange guy,” Jace says, pausing to gauge my reaction to the subject.

When I nod encouragingly and keep chewing, he continues.

“To say that he was anti-establishment is an understatement.

Victor believed that humans had lost touch with their roots, trading Mother Nature for an increasingly artificial life that dulls our senses and bleeds us for profit. "

“Sounds terrible,” I reply, picking up my phone to swipe the screen as if in a daze.

I set it down again when Jace chuckles. “The modern world isn’t perfect,” I admit, “but it’s not all bad either.

Even the Amish go to a hospital when one of their own is seriously ill. Air conditioning is pretty great too.”

Jace nods. “I agree. Victor struggled with his own convictions and made compromises, but he tried his best to live off the land.”

“Oh! Like one of those off-grid types?”

“Sort of. He was more of a survivalist. For most of the time that I knew him, he lived in the woods by my house.”

That sounds more like a homeless person to me, but I try to be tactful. “In a tent? ”

Jace shakes his head. “He had a lean-to.”

“A what now?”

“A lean-to.” Jace angles one of his hands forty-five degrees. “Picture a row of trimmed-down branches that form a slanted roof, providing partial shelter. Greg helped him build it.”

I shake my head in confusion. “Why not a tent?”

“I asked the same thing. Greg was an experienced camper and had all sorts of equipment he could have borrowed, but in Victor’s mind, a tent would have sealed him off from nature.”

“Uh, yeah! That’s the point. Bugs are icky!”

“Like I said, he was a strange guy. Which kept me coming back.”

We both chew in silence for a moment, although I’m digesting way more in my mind than in my stomach.

“What did he do in the winter?” I ask, starting with the least of my concerns.

“That was always a tough time of year for him. Sometimes he’d stay with his mom, which he hated. Victor loved her, but to him, being back in her house felt like failing. I would also uh… sneak him into my bedroom on occasion.”

That’s relatable.

“He tried sleeping in an old freight container for a while, which provided shelter but wasn’t any warmer.

I met him there once and his lips were turning blue.

” Jace’s brow furrows as he pokes at his plate.

“That’s when I asked Bernie if he could stay in the Airstream trailer.

The land he always parked it on wasn’t near much of anything.

Bernie agreed. Victor was happy there. Sure, he would leave the door open and welcome nature in, including possums and racoons but…

” Jace sighs. “That just made me love him more.”

“Wait until you see my place. Allison swears we have mice.”

He smiles at this, although it’s tinged with a hint of sorrow. “Worrying about Victor so much took a toll on me. I was always bringing food to him. He’d try to forage, but it was never enough. When I taught him how to fish, the first one he caught was also the last. He threw it back.”

“Oh. Was he a vegetarian?”

“Not really. If I brought him a burger and fries, he’d eat it.

And then he would explain how horrible industrial farming is.

Victor was a walking contradiction. He wanted to rise above his own shortcomings, like we all do, but whenever he failed, it hit him harder than it does most people.

Nature was sacred to him. An industrial cow was better off dead, but everything that was still free?

He couldn’t stand to see any of it suffer.

Even the branches of his lean-to were gathered off the forest floor.

He caught Greg sawing some off a tree once and just about lost it.

Meanwhile, I kept trying to imagine how I was going to have a future with someone like him.

Car payments and mortgages weren’t part of his vocabulary, and I was getting closer to graduating. ”

“The trailer,” I say, the pieces coming together.

Jace nods. “Yeah. That was my only hope. And our big dream. I would live the life that he couldn’t—go to work, buy groceries, pay the bills—and return to him at the end of each day, somewhere out in the wilderness that was so important to him.

The trailer would have provided a little bubble of civilization. ”

“And a home to a few racoons and some possums,” I add.

“Most likely, yes,” Jace says, shaking his head while laughing.

“Obviously that didn’t happen, but I still wanted to take a part of the dream with me.

” He looks up in concern. “I hope that doesn’t make you like the trailer less.

I don’t want you to feel like you’re sleeping in my ex’s bed.

I assure you, by the time Victor was done with it, all sorts of renovations and replacements were necessary. The mattress included.”

“I don’t mind.” I assure him. “If anything, I like it better now. But if I’m ever staying at your place and want a bubble bath…”

“Just knock on Greg’s door,” Jace says warmly.

We move on to other subjects while we finish eating, but my appetite remains strong as we leave the commons together.

“When do you get out of class?”

“How about now?” I suggest.

Jace gasps theatrically. “Won’t you get detention for skipping?”

My tone is aloof. Rebellious. “I don’t care. Rules are for people who don’t have such a hot boyfriend.”

“We shouldn’t make a habit of this,” Jace says, “but I certainly don’t mind.”

“Awesome! Where are you parked?”

Now it’s me who is pulling him along. I skip happily while clinging to his hand.

Mine mine mine! Allison won’t be home until late, a fact I inform him of the second we enter my apartment.

I give him the grand tour, which doesn’t take long.

Aside from our kitchen, we have a narrow living room and a bathroom with a cracked tub.

I only let him peek into Allison’s room, because she did a much better job of utilizing the space.

My own has the bigger bed at least, which I make sure to point out.

“Wanna give it a try?” I ask, sitting and bouncing up and down on it with a grin.

Jace is amused by my antics, but at the moment, he’s more interested in checking out the rest of my room. One of the most striking features in particular. “That’s a nice painting.”

“Thanks,” I say, the smile sliding off my face.

He notices. “Are you into art?”

“Not really. I had a passing interest in a particular artist. That’s all.”

“Ah.” Jace considers the painting again.