Page 31 of Something Like Winter
They took turns using the restroom, with Ben going first. Tim went second. Outside Ben’s room, the house was dark and quiet, the only light a sliver in the bathroom that Ben had left on for him. Tim thought he could hear snoring downstairs, either Ben’s father or the family dog. Finding his way back without the bathroom light on was even harder. Ben’s bedroom was next to his sister’s. Wouldn’t she be in for a surprise if Tim accidentally slipped into bed with her!
Fortunately, he made it back to the right room. The lights were still off in Ben’s bedroom, but the candles in the window had been lit. Ben was already beneath the sheets, shirtless at the very least, lying on his side but facing the door. Tim stripped off his shirt, Ben’s brown eyes watching his every move, absorbing the details of his body. Tim stood at the side of the bed, close enough for the candles to illuminate him, but far enough away that he couldn’t be touched. He unbuttoned and unzipped his shorts next, the boxers underneath already tenting. When he lowered the shorts and boxers down and off, he waited, basking in Ben’s attention.
Then he crawled into bed and pulled back the sheets. Ben was already naked, lifting his hands to touch, but Tim moved Ben’s arms away. Instead, he did the touching, kissing every part of Ben’s body he could find. As Ben lay on his back, arching and moaning, Tim showed him just how different he could be from those other guys.
Chapter Eight
It was over.
The past month had been the best of Tim’s life. He’d been to crazy parties—not just sneaking some quick drinks at Darryl’s before his parents got home, but all-night affairs that probably cost more in damages than they did in alcohol. Tim reached a happy impasse with Krista. Their relationship wasn’t going any further, and both were content with that. And then there were the nights spent with Ben.Theywere the highlight, the times Tim looked forward to most, but now they were over.
Tim attacked the canvas. He wasn’t usually into abstract expressionism, but today he needed to see the reds of rage blurring together with oranges of anxiety. He needed to purge his system of the anger and despair he felt before he crumpled beneath their weight.
He had never wanted things to become complicated. Not with Ben. That meant juggling more separate lives than he usually did, but Tim was skilled at this. Like now, since painting was something private he didn’t share with anyone, even Ben. Such things were necessary. Keeping his parents pleased by not attracting unwanted attention. Maintaining his image at school. Both of these were crucial to making his time with Ben possible. No one was asking questions, drawing unwanted conclusions, or getting in their way. Ben might create the world they shared, but Tim protected it. And now he was being punished for having done so.
A shopping trip to the mall with Krista. That’s when it all started to unravel. As usual, Krista held on to his arm as they moved from store to store. Tim had spotted Ben and his mother first. Thank goodness Krista was distracted by a window display of jewelry when they passed by. Tim nodded at Ben, which was all he could do, but then everything had exploded. Not there at the mall, but the next time they were alone.
Tim could understand how Ben felt. If he had seen some guy hanging off Ben’s arm, it would have hurt, but Ben had known about Krista from the start. He understood she was necessary to maintain the right image—or so Tim had thought. The last time they had seen each other…
“Who do you like more, Krista or me?”
“You,” Tim had told him. And it was true. Ben knew it was. “I like you more. When you’re not pissed at me, at least.”
“Who do you sleep with? It’s not Krista, is it?”
“No. I sleep with you.”
“So why do you need her when you have me?”
And Tim knew that the usual reasons weren’t enough for Ben anymore, that like everything good, things had gotten complicated. Tim attacked the canvas again, but the red he had mixed was a little too pink. He tried adding some yellow near it to make the hue appear deeper, but this only seemed to highlight it.
Tim stepped back and sighed. The painting appeared more amorous than angry. In the center, created by chance, was a shape like one lonely heart, surrounded by a mess of emotions. Feeling sorry for it, he gave the heart a partner, tracing the edge of another right behind it, so close that they almost appeared as one.
He had fucked up. Ben had done everything right, and Tim had ruined it. Of course being with Krista hurt Ben’s feelings. Right from the beginning, Ben had made sure Tim knew he was special, more than just a fling. And Tim had responded by keeping Krista around. And kissing that girl on the beach. What the hell had he been thinking?
Sometimes he wondered if something was wrong with him. Tim felt like a flower starved of sunlight, and every time that fiery orb rose in the sky, he jumped at the opportunity to soak up its warmth. He basked in attention like it gave him life. And now he had caused night to fall on the brightest days he had ever known.
His time with Ben had been precious. No, hisrelationshipwith Ben. That’s what it was—could be still—if he somehow salvaged it. If Tim was going to keep Ben, he would have to start taking risks. Starting with Krista Norman.
* * * * *
The flagpole dinged, the halyard and hooks blowing repeatedly against the metal cylinder. The noise seemed to haunt every school Tim had attended. The sound was desolate, one he usually noticed only when the parking lot emptied and everyone had gone home. Like now. School was out and cross country practice was over. Krista had come to watch him, as she sometimes did, and Tim had decided not to delay anymore. Surely this was better than calling her, like he had originally planned.
But watching Krista’s face, he wasn’t so sure.
“Why?” she asked.
“I just can’t be with anyone right now,” Tim said.
“Is it because I—”
“No. It’s not because of that, I promise.”
“Then why?”
Tim had struggled to find the right excuse, anything but the truth. The most effective reasons were also the most hurtful; another girl or that he simply didn’t like her. But he couldn’t bring himself to say any of those things, because as ditzy as Krista was, she was all right.
“There’s stuff going on at home,” Tim said. “It’s complicated, and I don’t like to talk about it. I’m sorry.”
