Page 20 of Switch Pitching

“Alright, man,” he says, shooting me a sideways glance. “Enough about me. Time for question two.”

I hold my breath, not knowing what to expect. I swear to god, if he asks me some crazy shit about kinks or something, I’m gonna?—

“Other than this past Friday, tell me about your most embarrassing night of drunken debauchery.”

Phew. I can tell him about the time my Korean friend in college introduced me to Soju. In my defense, it tasted like juice.

The miles fly by, and even though James gets bored of the whole “exposure therapy” game, we end up having fun with each other. By the time we call it a day, I can barely keep my eyes open, but I’m also relaxed in a strange sort of way. We pull up to the hotel I booked right off the highway, and we walk straight to the room because I checked in through the app beforehand. Not that I’m antisocial or anything, it’s just easier that way.

I breathe out a quiet sigh of relief when my eyes land on the fold-out bed that I asked housekeeping to bring. I guess the urgent request that I made minutes after James added himself to the trip worked out.

The next morning, we hit the road again and both of us are quieter, which probably stems from the fact that we’re bothdrained from the marathon drive from yesterday. The blacktop seems to stretch on forever, and we trade the driver’s seat a couple of times. On my third shift, James dozes off with his head leaning against the window, leaving me alone with my thoughts for a few hours.

When the GPS interrupts the silence by instructing me to turn on to I-93, James wakes up and looks around. “We almost there?” he asks, yawning.

“Pretty much. I’ll drop you off at the station like you asked.”

James stretches and yawns. “Sounds good. Thanks for the ride, man.”

Fifteen minutes later, we pull up to Quincy Adams station. James grabs his bag from the back, then walks around to my window. “Thanks again, Ethan,” he says.

“No problem at all,” I say, giving him a small smile. “Take care.”

He gives me fist bump. “You too, man. I’ll find us a place and I’ll see you soon.”

I watch James disappear into the station and I drive off, eager to finish the last hour and a half of this two-day road trip. Sharing the trip with James made it way easier, and I definitely appreciated the company.

Living with him is gonna be great. I just have to stop myself from crushing on him. That shouldn’t be too hard, right?

8

JAMES

“Are you sure you can find a place by Monday?” Ethan asks, his voice muffled by a cardboard box. We’re on a call, and he’s standing in the middle of his tiny Portland apartment. Ethan just set his phone down, so now I have a full, unobstructed view of his legs that cuts off right above his crotch.

Exactly what I called him to see. Not.

I smile back through the phone, even though Ethan is wrestling with a roll of packing tape.

“Dude, I know people, don’t worry.”

By “know people”, I mean that I have a friend who used to live in Boston. That’s a start, right?

“I’ll have a place locked down by Tuesday at the latest. No worries.” I try to sound as reassuring as possible. I need to nail this because I want Ethan to see me as a guy who has things under control.

“Just don’t break the bank.” Ethan turns away to toss a box labeled “Kitchen Stuff” onto a growing pile, which collapses with a concerning clatter.

I ignore Ethan’s apparent crisis and try to distract him. “Dude, we play for Boston. We can afford a decent place.”

Ethan laughs. “Fair enough, but I kinda want to save for the first while, in case I get injured.”

Ah, right. Ethan always makes sense. That’s why I need to match his energy and make sure I don’t mess this up.

He lets me go and ends the call, leaving me to look for a suitable apartment within three days. Fuck me. It’s my fault for bringing this on myself.

Taking deep breaths, I find my phone and head out. It’s time to lock something down.

I regret my choices. As usual. That happens to me pretty often.

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