Page 14 of Switch Pitching

The walk back to our hotel is a slow, shaky journey. By the time we make it, Ethan is leaning on me and resting his head against my shoulder. I should be annoyed, but somehow, I’m not.

After a short elevator ride, we reach his room. Placing Ethan against the entryway, I sigh with relief. “Alright, buddy, you’re almost there. Room key?”

Ethan fumbles through his wallet, pulling out a crumpled wad of cash, three credit cards, but no keycard.

Uh oh. Lost key equals lost sleep and a shitty hangover.

“Ethan,” I start, trying to think of a solution.

He opens his eyes and sends me a strange kind of look that I can’t place my finger on. It seems kind of…sultry? Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, or he’s super tired. It’s probably the latter.

“Why don’t you crash with me tonight?” I offer, pushing aside my distracted thoughts. “I don’t mind at all. It’ll save you from dealing with a lost key in the middle of the night.”

Ethan considers this for a second, and nods. “That sounds good. Thanks.”

The walk to my room is surprisingly efficient, with Ethan’s mumbled apologies for slowing me down serving as a subtle soundtrack. Finally, we reach my door and I usher him inside the room.

“Make yourself at home,” I say, flicking the light on. Housekeeping freshened the place up, and I’m looking forward to the new, crisp sheets on the bed.

“Oh,” Ethan’s voice is tight. “Uh, right. Thanks, James. This is…” He trails off, his gaze fixed on the bed.

“This is perfect,” I say, tossing my keycard onto the desk. “There’s plenty of space to sprawl out.” I turn back to Ethan, expecting a sleepy nod of agreement.

Instead, Ethan is darting out of the bedroom.

What the hell is he doing?

His final landing spot is the bathroom, no wait, thebathtub. He gets in, still fully clothed.

“I’m too tall,” he mumbles from his new position. “I’ll crash here. Don’t mind me.” His eyes flutter shut. “Comfy,” he whispers, already falling asleep.

Ethan is all splayed out, his wildly long arms and legs spilling out of the bathtub. I can’t let him sleep like this.

“Ethan, get into bed.” My voice comes out sharper than I mean it to be. He doesn’t move. “Come on, you’ll fuck up your shoulder,” I add, this time with more urgency. Still nothing.

What’s up with him? We’re two dudes, and I can’t be the first friend he’s ever shared a bed with. It’s perfectly normal, right?

Whatever. I guess I have to take matters into my own hands. Kneeling beside the tub, I carefully wrap my hands around one of Ethan’s bulky arms, trying not to tear a ligament. Holding onto him is one thing but moving him is another. Ethan is impossible to move. He’s tall and built, like capital-Bbuilt.

I grit my teeth, hauling on his arm. He stirs and opens his eyes. “Look man, I’m not letting you sleep in the bathtub,” I deadpan. “You’re gonna sleep in the bed and it’ll be fine.”

Ethan stays silent for a few more seconds, but then he pushes himself up and out of the tub.

Thank fuck.

He shuffles over to the bed and back-flops on top of the covers. I change into an old shirt and some shorts before taking the other side of the bed, and Ethan shuffles as I settle in.

“Hey,” he says, his voice clouded with sleep. “Thanks for letting me crash here.”

I smile back at him. “No problem, man. Just thought you might prefer the bed to the bathtub.” I try to sound casual, but my mind’s racing.

Why did he insist on staying in the tub?

And why does it feel like I’m trying too hard to make sure he’s comfortable?

Right. It’s because he’s my friend, and I care about him. That’s why.

“Yeah,” he mutters, his eyes already closing. “Definitely an upgrade. You’re the best, James. Good night.”

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