Page 139 of When Ben Loved Tim
I feel the stirrings of jealousy. And a growing concern that my situation isn’t as unique as I’d thought. “Are you guys friends?”
“Huh? No. We don’t talk or anything. Not since that day in class. I just think he’s…” Danny’s pale skin turns pink. “That he’s nice. And talented.” So much that remains unspoken is shining in his eyes.
Another cracking sound. The audience erupts in excitement. I watch as Tim runs back and forth between third and home base, a ball being passed back and forth between players on the opposing team. Everyone is freaking out. I am too, but not because of the game. I glance at Danny, who is almost manic in his adoration of Tim, and feel like I’ve gone back in time to witness myself at the beginning of it all.
“Yes!” Danny cries before leaping around. “Way to go!”
I don’t bother looking. Tim got a home run. Of course he did.
“Wow!” Danny breathes. “Didn’t I tell you? He’s amazing!”
“He’s something all right,” I murmur.
Danny looks a little self-conscious, even though the smile keeps returning to his face. “Do you want to watch the game together?” he asks.
“I can’t.” I nod to where Allison is looking at me with a pointed expression. “I’m with my friend and she doesn’t want to stay.”
“You could though,” Danny suggests.
“We have band practice. The garage kind, I mean.”
“You’re in a band?” Danny asks. “That’s really neat! What do you play?”
“I sing.”
“Oh. Funny how we don’t really know much about each other.” This doesn’t seem to be a guilt trip, judging from the lingering joy on his face. “I guess there’s not much time to talk during class. But maybe after school sometime? I think we have…” He hesitates before nodding to himself. “We have a few things in common.”
More than either of us realized. “Yeah,” I say. “I’m up for that.”
“Great!” Danny says, beaming at me. “We could go to a movie or something.”
Is he asking me on a date? I’m honestly not sure. “We’ll figure it out some other time. I’ve really got to go.”
“Okay,” Danny says. “It was nice seeing you.”
“Yeah! You too.”
I feel troubled when walking away, which is strange, because this is what I always wanted. Another gay guy at my school. Probably. I should be thrilled, and maybe I would be, if it wasn’t like looking in the mirror. Danny clearly has a thing for Tim, whether it’s platonic or otherwise. But he doesn’t really know him. The sad thing is, I’m not so different. Oh sure, I know more details about Tim’s life, and that he likes to paint. I know the scent of his hair and the taste of his skin. He’s literally been inside of me. But what is any of that worth? If someone had predicted a month ago that Tim would ditch me to take Krista to prom, I would have arrogantly proclaimed their ignorance. How ironic, coming from the king of fools.
That’s me.
I’m a royal idiot.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I keep thinking of the last time we slept together. Or tried to. Neither one of us knew that it was the end. If we had, I like to think that we would have made it special. Nearly two weeks have gone by now. Prom is a few days away. On the weekend. I’ve given up hope that Tim will show up last minute at my house with a corsage and an apology. He wouldn’t do that to Krista. Or his mother. Me? I’m fair game. The least of his priorities. Maybe because he knows that I love him. Ugh! I never should have said that out loud.
And yet, I want to again. One final time. So when the house has fallen silent, I slip on my shoes and walk to his house. I’m still wearing the necklace he gave me. Sometimes the metal of the key will touch my chest, shocking me with its cold. At others, if I press the key against my skin, it’ll grow warm. Not so different than the person who gave it to me. I’m not sure how he’ll react when I show up unannounced, but it can’t be worse than how we parted.
Tim is already in bed when I pad into his room. I carefully close the door. When I turn around, he’s propped up on an elbow, watching me. There’s so much I want to say, but words have never been reliable. Not with us. We’ve always had to rely on another language. I approach the bed. Tim moves the blankets aside in invitation.
I undress in front of him. As soon as my knee hits the mattress, he reaches for me. I tumble into his arms and sob against his lips, because it’s such a relief to be close to him again. I don’t care what he did or how much it hurt. Not right now. His touch is all that matters. I lower myself onto his naked body, craving the emotional closeness that always accompanies these moments. Tim brushes the hair from my forehead. He must see my tears, but he doesn’t try to wipe them away. His eyes are full of sympathy or maybe an apology. I don’t know, but I need him, so we take turns touching and tasting each other, our moans and hisses stifled so they won’t escape out into the hall.
Tim slides between my legs. We’re finally back to where we left off. He’s searching my face for permission. I hold up a finger, asking him to wait, and push him off. I want this. Enough to make sure I’d be ready. I stretch, reaching for the floor to hook a belt loop on my jeans. Inside one of the pockets is a small bottle of lube that I bought from a drugstore. I squirt some into my palms. Then I toss the bottle aside so I can stroke Tim with one hand while exploring myself with the other. This stuff workswaybetter than lotion. No burning sensation and no flowery scents.
I push the thought from my mind, not wanting a repeat of last time. All is forgotten when he climbs on top of me again. Tim isn’t as cautious as he usually is. I’m equally impatient. Even when it hurts I don’t push him away or ask him to slow down. My hunger is too great. I ride out the discomfort until pleasure replaces it. I paw at Tim, pulling him down while wrapping my legs around him. He kisses me as his body gyrates against mine. I’m already close. I can tell he is too.
Maybe that’s why he finally slows, his hips rocking back and forth in a gentle motion. The pleasure is so intense that it’s almost maddening. We continue like that for what feels like an eternity. Longer than we’ve ever gone before, as if he knows it’ll be the last time. The sun can come up for all I care. I don’t want him to stop. When we’re like this, thoughts are fleeting. The concerns of the real world are distant. It’s just us, together in a way that feels inseparable. We’ve achieved perfection. If only we could resist the temptation to push our luck and go beyond this moment, which will feel good… but ultimately usher in the end. So I tell him again, because of all that I’ve wanted to say over the past two weeks, they’re the only words that truly matter.
