Orientation: The Benchmarks Series

together and they liked welcoming others into their common law family.
I had too much of a good time to hear the whispers and shouts of anxiety, and I joined them the next week, no blood oaths required.
The week after that, Max dropped onto the bench beside me as the September sun dipped into the horizon. I was happy to see him. Happy I'd had a month to get to know him beyond that sudden surge of heat and connection I'd felt the day we met. Happy I'd been able to find my homeostasis after navigating a huge season of change.
And I was happy to say yes when he asked, "What d'you say, Hayzer? Can I buy you dinner sometime?"
* * *
It took a full month for me to say yes and then another two weeks for us to arrive at a date and time. For once, it wasn't all my brain's fault. Since teachers didn't do weeknight outings—at least, not this teacher—we were limited to weekends and those were in short supply. Max was busy babysitting his sister's kids when she and her husband were away for an anniversary weekend. I was attending a training the next.
When we finally met up on a postcard perfect October afternoon, I thought I knew what I was getting myself into with Max.
I had no idea.
We met outside the gates of Fenway Park with a quick, slightly stiff hug where we lingered just long enough to make breaking apart awkward. I told myself it was awkward because we hadn't shared a minute without students or colleagues watching us and we had to learn how to do it right. I held his hand as I followed him inside the park.
Our seats were mediocre but it didn't matter because the sun was warm and bright and Max was completely magnetic. He talked nonstop, his opinions of the players and the action on the field wedged in between questions about me, chatter about our school, musings about fun spots we could visit in the city. And he did it all with his arm draped over the back of my seat like it'd always been there.
I liked that.
I liked hearing about his childhood Little League victories and his high school triumphs on the football field, going to school to teach phys ed because he'd always wanted to wear shorts and play dodgeball as a profession, his therapist sister Mallori and all the ways she routinely attempted to "shrink" him. And I liked telling him about all my new school year rituals, my decidedly non-athletic youth, how it seemed teaching was predestined for me and my comfortable acceptance of that. And as much as I could like an experience as rough and crumbly as shale, I liked that we both grew up without a father figure in our lives.
I liked it all so much I didn't object when he carted me to a nearby sports bar after the game. The home team had won and everyone was in such great spirits and he never, ever stopped touching me. No, I had not lodged an objection because I was too busy beaming at him with big, dreamy heart eyes.
And why did I need to object? I wasn't into the rowdy sports bar scene but I could manage this for a bit. A beer, some wings, whatever. I was with Max and that was all that mattered.
After an hour filled with mingling and recounting the best plays with the other sports fans packed into the loud, hot bar, Max leaned in close and said, "Let's get out of here."
I almost grabbed his stubbly face and kissed him.
I'd expected him to suggest going for a walk on the Esplanade or grabbing an ice cream cone or, hell, just calling it a night and going our separate ways because staying out this late wasn't the norm for my homebody soul. Instead of walking or ice cream, we ended up at the open-air playground for adults, the Lawn on D—and we were just in time for the live music to kick off.
"This band is killer," Max yelled over the noise.
He moved his body with the music and there was no denying he loved this. A significant portion of me wanted to tell him this was not killer, not for me, but he looped his arm around my waist and urged me to sway along with him. All the things that chafed and bothered like a clothing tag in a troublesome spot eased—this was different but not necessarily uncomfortable.
"Yeah," I replied, pushing up on my toes to speak into his ear. "Completely killer."
Max grinned down at me, his eyes smiling and his sun-bleached hair glowing white under the lights, and I decided I liked this man and his wild, overwhelming, noisy adventures very, very much.
I rested my hand between his shoulder blades and pressed him closer. "Kiss me," I said, glancing at his lips.
The music was too loud for Max to make out those words but the combination of my hand on his back and my gaze all over his mouth got the message across.
He cupped my jaw and swept his thumb over my lips. "I've been thinking about this," he said. "Imagined it a whole bunch of different ways."
"Did you imagine it like this?"
He blinked down at my mouth, nodding. For a second, it seemed he was poised to say something else, but then he lowered his head and sealed his lips over mine.
At first, I went rigid because even if my heart wanted this, my head didn't trust anything new. Never did. Once I overcame that, everything fell into place. I granted myself permission to melt into him, to fall into his kiss like it was the one true place I belonged.
When Max pulled back, he brought his thumb to my lips. He studied me with his dark brown eyes as if he was contemplating something rather consequential. Then, "I really like you, Jory Hayzer. I like the way you taste