Page 74 of When Ben Loved Tim
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he says with a chuckle. “My dad will still expect me to try out, but I’ll probably blow that too. I don’t want to make a career of it, you know?”
I perk up at this news, encouraged that he was going against his parents’ wishes before we met. Although not enough to enroll in a sport he actually cares about. “So what do you really want to do?”
His eyes dart to the wall, in the direction of the painting, before returning to mine. “Track and field might be cool, like you said.”
“Yeah, but for a living?”
He shrugs again. “What are you gonna do?”
I prefer it when I get to ask the questions. “I enjoy singing, but I’d hate to be famous.”
“How come?”
“Call it a hunch,” I say wryly, “but I don’t think I’d like total strangers knowing who I am.”
“Because of the gay thing?”
“Because people are assholes,” I retort. “Myself included. I love celebrity gossip. Hey, maybe that’s what I’ll do! I like to write.”
“Oh yeah?” Tim says, sounding genuinely interested. “Like stories and stuff?”
“Yup! Or song lyrics. None of it is very good.”
“Can I see some anyway?”
Suddenly I understand why he’s so tightlipped about his art. “Yeah, but only if you promise to hang on to your baseball uniform, even after you stop playing.”
Tim looks confused until a slow grin unfurls across his face. “You like how it looks on me, huh?” he says, puffing up his chest.
“Yes,” I admit. “The few times I watched baseball, all I paid attention to were the butts and bulges.”
“Don’t be too impressed,” Tim says, grabbing his package to adjust it. “Those guys were wearing cups. Mine’s all real, baby.”
“On second thought,” I say while staring openly, “maybe I’d rather see yououtof that uniform.”
“I might need some help,” he suggests with bedroom eyes.
I slide out of bed and kiss him while unbuttoning the jersey. I wish he didn’t have the undershirt on so I could see his muscles. I pull up on it, exposing his abs. Tim is already working at his pants. As soon as the top button is undone, I slip my hand inside his underwear, feeling the hot firmness of his cock… and another pang of guilt. I try to ignore it by kissing him again, but when he pulls back to grin at me, it reminds me too much of the photo on Krista’s wall.
“Maybe we should go for a home run this time,” Tim says.
I pull my hand out of his pants. “I would, but your wife is watching us from the bleachers.”
“Huh?”
“Krista,” I say.
Tim snorts. “She’ll never find out.”
“Yeah, butI’llknow,” I say, no longer hiding the guilt I feel. “If we’re going to keep doing this, I think you should break up with her.”
Tim eyes me before shaking his head. “You know why I can’t do that.”
“Because of your parents. Have they ever met her?”
“No. But they’ve heard her talking to me on the phone and stuff. They know she’s real.”
