Page 156 of Something Like Winter
sure of Ben’s thoughts, but he dreamt of spending the night together,
even if they only stayed up talking. Regardless, he would keep his
promise to move slowly.
“Can I have you tomorrow?” Tim asked as he pulled up to the curb. Ben raised an eyebrow. “Interesting choice of words.”
“I mean, do you have any plans?”
Ben shook his head. “There’s a new play starting soon, but rehearsals
aren’t until next week. What did you have in mind?”
“I thought we’d go for a drive. Maybe head over to The Woodlands
and chase after some old memories.”
“Okay.”
Tim shifted in his seat. “I don’t suppose a good night ki—” Ben’s lips were on his before he could finish the sentence, and of
everything that had happened that night, the kiss was the most
meaningful. A debut art exhibition and a successful gallery opening
simply couldn’t compare.
Chapter Thirty-four
The Woodlands had been many things to Tim over the years. At first the city had been a chance at a new beginning, a fresh start after the events in Kansas that now seemed small and distant. Like a sapling, Tim had sprung up out of the dirt only to find his pot was too small and cramped, that he wasn’t getting enough sun or water. Of course the metaphor fell apart right there, since the city wasn’t to blame for his stunted growth. Tim took full responsibility for that now, but in his mind, The Woodlands remained a place of failed potential.
Not anymore. In the passenger seat next to him was Ben, and like a magic totem, Tim was rushing him back to the past to banish those clouds and bring back the sun. Together they could rewrite history, he felt. Of course it would help if Ben stopped looking at him like he was a total stranger.
“So you’ll be running the gallery?” he was asking.
“Yeah.” Tim checked his blind spot and cruised over to the fast lane. “I about flipped when I started working for the foundation. After all those years of having nothing to do, it felt good to have a purpose. Most applicants come around in the spring or summer. Besides that there’s only a fundraiser in the fall, so I still have a lot of free time.”
“How terrible,” Ben interjected.
Tim grinned. “I know, right? My life’s so hard. Anyway, I figure the gallery will keep my hands full the rest of the year by giving me a chance to help out other artists.” He glanced over, hoping to see Ben impressed, but instead that puzzled expression had resurfaced. “Am I not making sense?”
“You are,” Ben said, turning his attention to the road. “That’s how speech therapy makes me feel.”
“You’re still doing that?”
“Yup. Sometimes I wish it was full-time, since it’s a lot more fulfilling than theater work. Being on stage is more self-indulgent than anything. An excuse to sing for an audience.”
“I wouldn’t mind hearing you sing again,” Tim said.
“The show coming up is just straight-up acting,” Ben said, not taking the hint. “I don’t like doing those as much, but Brian always gets Allison to talk me into them. I need the extra money anyway.”
Tim resisted the urge to offer him everything he had. He would give it, if Ben asked, but he also worried about making everything feel weird. Instead he nodded at the highway sign. “Ten more miles and we’re there!”
They exchanged looks that both said the same thing: Is this really a good idea? Then they laughed and scrutinized their surroundings, pointing out familiar landmarks as they entered the city limits.
“Where to first?” Tim asked. “Want to see your parents?”
Ben shook his head. “Not this time. I can only imagine all the questions they’ll have.”
