Page 59 of Benson
He didn’t cry. He didn’t rage. He just felt that ache—the one that came when you realized you might not be enough for someone you’d cared about.
Despite that, he hoped Kyle would call again.
Chapter Thirty-One
Kyle
Newport Beach, California
The moment Benson left, Kyle knew something had to change, but it was in this very moment, sitting behind his vanity in the dressing room at Bun Boys that his decision became clear. He couldn’t stay. Not in California. Not in this version of his life.
He had arrived in California with a dream that felt as big and bright as the sun itself—to dance. It was a dream that had finally come to life on the stages of California. He had made friends, a chosen family of fellow dancers and performers who understood the language of movement and the rhythm of a shared passion. Even in the short time, they had laughed, struggled, and triumphed together, creating memories he would always cherish.
Leaving California was a bittersweet thought. This was the life he’d always dreamed of, but it was also a life filled with the ache of separation. A new dream was calling him, a more profound one. He was ready to trade the spotlight for a life with Benson, a life he knew would be his greatest performance yet.
He walked down the narrow hallway to Mr. Myers’ office. The door was open; the older man hunched over payroll sheets. Kyle knocked softly.
“I need to quit,” he said, voice low but steady. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you going back to New York City?”
“No, I’m going to take a risk on love. He’s in Michigan, and that’s where I need to be. Thank you for giving me memories for a lifetime, memories of feeling worthy and confident. I now know I can get a job and do well. I’ve loved it here, but love kidnapped me. I need to be with my boyfriend.”
Mr. Myers looked up, eyes kind. “I understand,” he said. “If you ever need a dancing job again, you call me.” He wrote a check out to Kyle for the days he’d worked.
“Thank you.”
Kyle nodded, throat tight. Mr. Myers stood and hugged him—brief, firm, fatherly. It meant more to Kyle than expected.
Outside, Juan was waiting by his motorcycle, helmet in hand. Kyle climbed on behind him, arms around his friend’s waist, the wind already tugging at his hoodie. The ride was not a long one, but Kyle knew what he had to do.
Kyle stood in front of the condo, the ocean humming softly behind him, the sky still dark but beginning to hint at the morning. Juan’s motorcycle idled at the curb; its low rumble was the only sound besides the waves.
As Kyle returned the helmet to Juan, he said, “I’m leaving California.”
Juan jumped off the motorcycle and stepped up beside him, helmet tucked under his arm. His eyes scanned Kyle’s face, searching for something—maybe doubt, maybe hesitation.
“Are you sure about this?” Juan asked, voice low.
Kyle nodded, though his chest felt tight. “Yeah. I have to go. I can’t keep pretending I’m okay here. I miss him. I miss what it felt like to be with someone who saw me.”
“Did you quit the Bun Boys?”
Kyle nodded. “I told Mr. Myers and thanked him. He said I have a job waiting if I return.”
Juan exhaled slowly, then gave a crooked smile. “You’re chasing love. That’s brave, man. Most people just settle for what’s easy.”
Kyle looked down. “It doesn’t feel brave. It feels like I’m walking into something I might not be wanted in.”
Juan shrugged. “Maybe. But you’ll know. And that’s better than wondering for the rest of your life.”
Kyle met his eyes. “You’re not mad?”
“I’m sad,” Juan said. “You’re my new best friend. Bun Boys won’t be the same without you. But I’d be more pissed if you stayed and let your heart rot.”
Kyle laughed softly, the sound catching in his throat. “You always know what to say.”
Juan stepped forward and pulled him into a hug, grounding Kyle. “Go find out, Kyle. Go see if he’s waiting. And if he’s not, you’ll still have yourself. That’s worth something.”
