Page 29 of Something Like Winter
Tim shook his head ruefully. “Whatever makes you happy.” He glanced up at the tree. “Speaking of love, who is A.C.?”
Ben looked embarrassed and followed his gaze. Carved into the tree were two sets of initials. The B.B. could only belong to Ben Bentley.
“Allison Cross.”
“So Benjaminhashad a girlfriend before?” Tim said with a cackle. “How experimental of you!”
“Shut up!” Ben laughed. “We were young and dumb. Allison and I thought it would make a good best friends oath. You know, like how people cut their thumbs and press them together or whatever. We carved our initials on this tree.”
“And then carved a heart around them,” Tim pointed out.
“Young and dumb,” Ben repeated. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”
“Of her or the countless straight guys you’ve toyed with?”
Ben’s face grew serious. “It’s not like that.”
“I was just teasing.”
“I know, but you’re different.”
Tim wasn’t sure what that meant. Was he different because Ben thought he was gay, or was he different because Ben had feelings for him? Either way, the intensity of that look had Tim interested in anything but more conversation. “Kiss me.”
Ben came to him and did as he was told. Tim started gently but then nibbled and gnawed on his lips. He felt like he could eat Ben up, like some sort of cannibal vampire. Kissing Ben drove Tim wild, maybe because he didn’t have to be as cautious as he was with girls. He would have gladly spent the rest of the day lying together in the leaves, but a twig snapped and they both jumped. They froze, only their eyes moving as they tried to detect more noise. When it didn’t come, they both chuckled. Then Ben attempted to unbutton Tim’s shorts.
“Not here!” Tim said, sitting up and knocking his hand away. “Jesus, we’re out in the open!”
Ben’s brow furrowed. “We’re not exactly in public. No one ever comes out here.”
“But they could,” Tim said. “There are houses just over there.”
“Fine.” Ben rolled his eyes before a different idea occurred to him. Tim knew from his expression that he was in trouble. “Come home with me. I’ll smuggle you upstairs to my room, and you can stay the night.”
“Like your parents wouldn’t notice?”
“My parents won’t care,” Ben said. “Those are your choices. Whip it out here and now, or come home with me.”
“Or I can go home and jack off,” Tim said.
Ben’s smile was way too confident. “You can’t say no to me.”
Instead of arguing, Tim proved him right.
* * * * *
True to his word, Ben smuggled him inside the house and up the stairs undetected. Ben lived only a few blocks over, in a neighborhood old enough to have character. The houses were a little smaller than those in the new subdivision where Tim lived, but still decidedly middle class. Once they reached the safety of his room, Ben slipped out again to order a pizza for dinner.
Ben’s room wasn’t quite what Tim had expected. That is, it contained nothing conspicuously gay. No posters of guys on the wall or rainbow bedspreads. Tim couldn’t even say it was tastefully decorated, since it was all a little eclectic. The wrinkled-up bed had probably been made in haste. A coat rack in the corner held a jacket or two and a couple of hats, and two identical CD shelves were maxed out. A small writing desk against one wall held a laptop, and of course the requisite stereo and TV finished the decor. All in all it was a typical guy’s room, except maybe for the scented candles on the windowsill.
Tim felt restless, sitting on the edge of the bed briefly before rising again to check out a collage of photos on the wall. Most were of Ben and a pretty black girl—the fabled Allison, most likely. In one Ben had his hair dyed black and Allison was pretending to smoke a pen like it was a cigarette. In another they were younger and dressed for Halloween. Allison was wearing a man’s suit, a false mustache, and slicked-back hair. Ben was dressed up like a woman, wearing make-up, a horrible wig, and a tank top stuffed with two oranges for boobs. Tim leaned in, trying to decide if Ben as a girl did anything for him when the bedroom door opened.
Ben walked in wearing a hopeless expression, his mother close behind. She couldn’t be anyone else, the family resemblance all too clear. Take Ben, make him shorter and style that blond hair into a bob, andvoilá!
“Sorry!” she said. “I don’t mean to intrude. I’m June, Ben’s mom.”
“Tim,” he said, accepting her extended hand.
“Aren’t you handsome! We’re just about to order pizza, and I wanted to know what you like.”
