Orientation: The Benchmarks Series

the staircase. "I have to finish making snacks for all of our soccer games. I know you can handle this."
Mallori marched up the stairs and closed the door with a definitive thud that made clear her expectation I was dating someone less horrible and emotionally ruinous than Teddy.
Since Jory was none of those things and I was out of time to ponder my clothing options, I snatched up my phone and tapped Jory's number. All I had to do was ask about the dress code. One quick question. This was fine. No problem. I could pull this off without being a tool.
"Hey," he answered, a little breathless as if he'd dashed to grab his phone. "What's up?"
Or—oh, Jesus, no—he was breathless because he hated talking on the phone and this was causing him distress. Oh my god. I was torturing this poor man. I should've just gone with the suit I wore to my Uncle Grover's funeral ten years ago and suffered the consequences. No amount of inappropriate attire was worth stressing Jory.
I dragged a hand down my face. I had to say something. I couldn't just hang up. We were doing this, we were having a phone conversation and I was going to dissolve into a hard ball of my bad choices any minute now. "Would it be okay—I mean, do you mind—where are we going?"
So much for one quick question.
"Oh," Jory replied, laughing. "Yeah, of course. We're—"
"Here's the thing," I interrupted because I couldn't stop the words from tumbling out. This was already bad. Why not make it worse? "I don't have anything to wear to the symphony, and I don't really know what a symposium is or whether it's at all related to a symphony—though I figure it has to be, right? No? Anyway, I'm not sure what to wear to a symphony. Or a symposium. And I don't want to screw this up again—or any more than I am right now with all this word salad. So, if I haven't convinced you I'm a raving lunatic yet, I'd love to know where we're going."
Jory laughed again. "Wow. Okay."
I thumped my forehead against the wall. "Yep. I've screwed it up again."
"You haven't screwed up anything," Jory replied. "I should've given you more info yesterday. It's my fault."
"Not your fault," I insisted. "Really, it's just me overthinking. You probably would've said something about needing a tux since you're always hot on the details like that."
"You definitely won't need a tux for the day I have planned," he said. "I thought it would be fun to do the pumpkin patch thing."
"A pumpkin patch?"
"Yeah. I found a big farm in the area with all the usual farm stuff on Instagram. I know it's the most basic thing ever but it's a mandatory autumn activity, right? I also want an excuse to eat some fresh apple cider donuts. Does that work for you?" When I didn't respond right away, Jory added, "We can do something else. It doesn't have to be a pumpkin patch."
I glanced at the navy sweater, the one that practically screamed autumn in New England, and I let out an enormous sigh of relief. "That sounds awesome."
"So…do you still want me to pick you up in an hour?"
"Hell yeah," I replied. "I'll be out on the curb doing jumping jacks."
"I look forward to seeing that," Jory said with a laugh. "Hey, Max?"
"Yeah?"
"Have you been tearing your closet apart and pacing in your underwear?"
I jerked a shoulder up. "Basically."
After a pause, he said, "Me too."
"But—why? You know where we're going."
He paused again. "Because I don't want to screw this up either."
The back of my neck heated, then my cheeks. And I was smiling, not that Jory could see any of it but maybe he was feeling this way too. Maybe we were both blushing and tender and scared as hell to get this wrong because we knew it could be very, very right.
"And there's something else I should say," he added. "I want to apologize."
"You can't dump me right now. Not when we've established I'm going a little nutty and pacing in my underwear."
"No, that's not what I'm saying," Jory replied with a stiff laugh. "I feel bad that it's taken me so long to warm up. Sometimes, I experience changes like new jobs, new cities, new homes—"
"New guys," I added.
"New guys, yes," he agreed. "I experience some of that change as little traumas. Even if it's a good change, a wonderful change, my system needs extra time to regain homeostasis. It's like I can't do anything until I've accepted those changes, integrated them into my operating system, and found that new normal because my brain and body are in survival mode. That's why it took me so long to go out with you in the first place and why I'm still on eggshells."
"You don't have to apologize," I said. "I know you're just processing. I can tell. I see it. It's like you're thinking real hard to solve a problem."
"You're being extremely tolerant. I know you'd like it if I just hurried up and—"
"No," I interrupted. "Actually, no. Expecting you to hurry up because I'm kind of obsessed with you is a quick way to send you running for the hills. I don't want that for me, and I also don't want to be the guy who scared off everyone's new favorite science teacher."
"So, you've thought about this," Jory said.
I could picture him arching his eyebrow up and giving me a sharp look. Loved it.
"Sure have," I replied. "I know I'd rather respect your needs and make you feel safe than anything else. I like you, Hayzer. I plan on hanging around as long as you'll have me."
"But…" He laughed, but it was the kind of noise that came without humor, without light. "But why?"
I was this close to detailing the frequency with which I eye-fucked him but stopped myself and replayed that humorless laugh. "Do you need compliments, or do you need me to explain why you're