Page 3 of When Ben Loved Tim
“Thanks,” I say, feeling a surge of affection for her. “I love you too.”
“Call me when you’re home,” Allison says, “and tell me everything. No matter how late it is.” She waggles her eyebrows.
“I wish,” I say with a mad chuckle. Then, before I can second-guess myself, I open the car door and climb out. My legs are stiff as I hobble to the sidewalk. Allison drives away, reminding me of how vulnerable I felt during the first day of kindergarten, after my mom left me there. That had been scary, but I’m not a little kid anymore, so this should be easy. Right?
I straighten up and begin walking toward his house. I can see Mr. Blue Shoes mowing the yard, one row at a time. There’s not much left. In fact, he’s getting nearer to the sidewalk. I pick up the pace, figuring that might present the ideal opportunity. Like he’ll have to shut off the lawnmower to prevent grass from blowing all over me, because he isn’t using a bag, and then I’ll say… What, exactly?
I consider myself a creative person. I sometimes come up with my own song lyrics and have even tried to write stories. Without much luck. I’m starting to see why, because I’m drawing a blank. I could ask where he got his shoes. I’ve searched for them in stores without success. He probably bought them in a foreign country. I’m convinced that his family moved here from overseas. Italy or Spain, judging from the dark hair, or maybe he’s Middle Eastern, since his skin is so delectably brown. I can’t wait to see everything up close and in the daylight. My head is bowed to look at the sidewalk, when really, my eyes are tracking him. Mr. Blue Shoes turns at the end of the yard nearest me and begins walking in the same direction that I’m traveling. After a short sprint, I’m just a few paces behind him. He’s wearing a sleeveless gray shirt, and I’m absolutely captivated by his round meaty shoulders. They glisten with tiny beads of sweat, making me want to lick them clean. I don’t care how that sounds. If he turned around and asked me to, I’d shrug and start tonguing away. Why is he wearing a shirt at all? In this heat? And with that body? I’d be strutting around next to naked, if I was him. Oh god! He’s just about to reach the driveway, and when he does, he’ll turn around and we’ll be face to face.
The lawn mower sputters and stops. I’m just about to pass him and still don’t know what I’m going to say. I suppose “Hello” would be a good start. Yeah! I’ll be all like “Hey, are you new to the neighborhood? Let me show you around. Oh, is that an Italian accent I hear? I happen to love pizza. We have so much in common! Now about that sweaty body of yours, I have an unorthodox solution.” I watch as he swipes an arm across his forehead. So maybe it’ll be a team effort.
“Tim?”
My head whips around to find the source of that voice. A woman is standing on the front stoop of the house. Her hair is raven black, her skin an earthy hue like her son. She’s definitely his mother. The woman is too beautiful not to be. Her attention flicks to me and back to her son. “Come help me move the couch.” She does indeed have an accent, but before I can place it, my skin tingles with his response.
“Yeah, okay.”
Just two words, but the voice is deep and kind of husky. I’m already enamored with it. I tense as he turns, just as I’m passing him, but his back remains to me. I keep walking, only daring to glance over my shoulder when I’ve reached the next driveway, and see him disappear into the house.
Allison is going to be disappointed. I know she will, but I’mbeyondthrilled, because I know where he lives now. I’ll know the sound of his voice when imagining him whispering seductive words into my ear. Best of all, I know his name. And it’s one of my favorites, more so now than ever before. I wait until I’m at the end of the block before I stop biting my bottom lip long enough to try it on for size.
“Tim.”
Chapter Two
“We finally made it,” Allison says after parking her car. She glances over at me and smiles. “We’re top of the food chain. Remember how terrified we were our first day as freshmen?”
“I’ve blocked it out,” I say, already scanning the school parking lot.
“This is a moment to remember,” Allison replies dramatically. “We’re seniors now. Every single day will bring us closer to college. We’re practically grownups!”
“I’m not in a rush,” I tell her when getting out of the car, because there are goals I would like to meet first. Like kissing another human being who isn’t a relative. Or my best friend. But that was only practicing and definitely didn’t count!
“I can’t wait,” Allison says. “I’m ready to be out on my own.”
My own problems recede long enough for me to shoot her a sympathetic wince. Allison’s home life is far from ideal. I worry about that. A lot. Especially the way she tends to shrug it off, like now. She sees my concerned expression and chooses to misinterpret it. “I mean untilwe’reout on our own. And living together.” As if there was any doubt. We’ve practically had it all planned since that first day of freshman year. Which is how I know she’s intentionally deflecting. Especially when she adds, “Maybe by then it’ll be three of us living together.”
“Planning on getting knocked up?” I tease, even though I know exactly what she means. The ploy to distract me works. As we go inside and navigate the school hallways, my eyes dart from face to face, trying to find one with stunning silver eyes, but Tim continues to elude me. Allison and I set out to find our new lockers and discover that they are across the hall from one another this year. Which is perfect, since it means we’ll see each other between classes. The only one we have together is choir, and that’s not enough for either of us.
“I’m off to U.S. Government and Politics,” Allison says with a weary sigh. “Although I suppose it’s necessary if I’m to become president someday.”
“I’ll be in gym class,” I say, “which is bound to be useful in my career as a professional basketball player.” That’s pure sarcasm, of course, because I only reach five foot eight on a tape measure by standing up reallyreallystraight. And I’ve always sucked at sports. Maybe if our school offered horse racing as an elective, I would have made a good jockey. Assuming I didn’t fall off constantly. I’m not the most coordinated guy.
“I hope you get lucky,” Allison says with a broad smile.
I gasp as if scandalized. “Not on the first date!”
“You know what I mean,” she says. “See you at lunch!”
I do know. The potential has me buzzing. Tim might be in my gym class. Which will be absolute torture if he’s within range when I’m changing into the horrible school-issued athletic uniforms. I can hardly wait! For the first time in my life, I rush to the school gymnasium and am swiftly disappointed. I recognize a few faces—other freaks and losers that I’ll cluster close to for safety—but none of them are my dream guy.
On the way to my second period literature class, I search the halls with an earnestness only matched by a parent seeking a missing child. My gaze lingers on some of the more handsome boys, because I’m only human. And not married to anyone yet. Although I’m not against the idea if Tim insists. I soon regret not being more discreet when I notice Bryce, the biggest jerk in our school in both size and attitude. Irritatingly enough, he’s also extremely attractive. Bryce is one of the popular kids. He’s on the football team and has always looked older than he really is, like he’s already in college. I didn’t run into him over the summer, thankfully, but that lowered my immunity to his beefy muscles that have all too often drawn my attention. Like now.
“Look who it is!” Bryce says, having caught my stare. “It’s Ben Dover.” That isdefinitelynot my last name. It’s a dumb joke. Bryce jostles one of his friends. “Hey guys, don’t drop the soap!”
I close my eyes and release a long drawn-out sigh before stopping to address him. “Those insults aren’t compatible,” I say. “You accuse me of bending over while also taking advantage of anyone who does the same. How would that work exactly? Do you think gay people bump their butts together when having sex?”
Bryce’s strong brow furrows up. “Huh?” He’s always been dumb as a rock. And just as brutal. “Are you making fun of me?” he says, taking a step forward while clenching a fist.
