by Jay Bell
“Be right back,” Tim said, running to answer it and finding Ben, his face crimson with anger.
“Who’s here?” he snarled.
Uh oh. “Just someone from school.”
Ben glared in disbelief before pushing past him. Oh man, was he pissed! Tim followed him to the living room, waiting just outside the door and imagining Ben discovering Jessica surrounded by books and notes.
“Is that your car outside?”
“Huh?” Jessica sounded completely lost, which was perfect. “Yeah. Do I need to move it?”
“No. Sorry.” Ben’s voice sounded more embarrassed than angry now, so Tim made an appearance.
“Actually,” he said to Jessica, “we’re going to have to do this tomorrow. Something’s come up.”
Jessica panicked. “There’s only two days left!”
“I know. We’ll really nail it tomorrow, promise.”
Jessica gathered her things and left, the look of terror never leaving her face. Oh, those pesky finals! Tim would be worried about them if he didn’t have Eric’s money, but these days his focus was on Ben.
Chinchilla danced at Ben’s feet as he sank into the couch. She yapped for his attention, peeing in excitement, but Ben was too deflated to respond. Tim grabbed the paper towels he always had nearby and cleaned up, glancing up at Ben. God, it was good to see him again! Even if he did look miserable.
“You didn’t leave a note on Jace’s door, did you?” Ben asked. “Or have someone else do it?”
“No.” Tim sat up, as if concerned. “Why? What happened?”
And it all played out, just like in his fantasies. Well, almost. Ben didn’t throw himself into Tim’s arms, but as he talked, his anger was directed only at Jace. Tim grabbed a couple of beers to help the process along as Ben became more and more agitated. And then it all went terribly wrong.
“You know, if he was going to cheat on me,” Ben said, “I wish he just would have asked. I would have let him, if he wanted to. I don’t care. I mean, it would have hurt, but it’s better than him lying to me. That’s the worst part, because it makes me wonder what else he’s lied about. Not about cheating, but—” Ben’s voice cracked. “What if he lied about loving me? Why else would he sleep around?”
There were tears. Only a couple, but like the ghost of Christmas past, they brought Tim right back to the night when he watched Ben crying in his backyard. That moment had been the lowest in Tim’s life, and now he had done it all over again. Ben was hurt, and it was all his fault.
“I’m going to throw some pizzas in the oven,” he mumbled, getting to his feet and feeling unsteady as he left the room. He couldn’t stand to see Ben like this, didn’t want to face it.
Once in the kitchen, he tried to compose himself. The damage was done. Ben would be hurt either way, whether he believed the lie or knew the truth. His anger might focus back on Tim, but the hurt would remain. Swallowing the bitter taste of guilt, Tim decided to press forward.
He brought another couple of beers with him to the living room, needing a drink as much as Ben did. Even the alcohol didn’t allow Tim to enjoy his victory. Night came and Ben was too drunk to drive home, so Tim invited him to stay over. When Ben stumbled into his arms, making a clumsy pass at him, Tim felt repulsed by what he had done and guided Ben to one of the guest rooms. Then he went to his own room, helping Chinchilla into bed before crawling in himself. Lying on his back, he stared at the ceiling, prepared for another sleepless night.
* * * * *
I can make him happy.
These simple words carried Tim through the next three days. Ben was busy with finals, and Tim had little time himself, but he would have given up graduating if Ben wanted to be with him. He called Ben whenever he could and talked him into a quick lunch once. The subject of Jace never came up, Tim too scared to broach it. He prayed that all of this hadn’t been for naught, but ultimately decided to stop agonizing over hurting Ben and to focus on his conviction.
He could make Ben happy. Much more than Jace ever had. If he had made Ben happy in their teens, when Tim’s efforts had been half-assed and incompetent, then surely now would be so much better.
Saturday was hellishly hot, and while Ben had told him on the phone that he’d be busy working on his thesis, Tim called anyway and invited him over for a swim. The second Ben said yes, Tim sprang into action, fishing leaves out of the pool, whipping up a pitcher of Kool-Aid, and checking his appearance in the mirror. He already wore suggestively tight swim trunks—not that Ben didn’t know what he was packing—and he fussed over his hair, trying to decide if he should gel it into messy spikes or leave it natural since they would be swimming. He still hadn’t decided when he heard Ben open the front door.
“Chinchilla, come!” Tim ran for the back patio, picking up the serving tray with the Kool-Aid and balancing it like a waiter. He had hoped Chinchilla would stand obediently at his side, but instead she attacked the stack of towels and was dragging one away.
Then Ben came through the sliding glass door, wearing a navy blue pair of swim trunks, a light blue tank top, and flip flops. He was dressed like a beach bum but still had finals gloom hanging over him. They would soon fix that.
“Monsieur.” Tim gave a cordial nod and brought the tray around, setting it down and pouring Ben a glass.
“Thanks,” Ben gasped after a big swallow, “but the pool is the only thing that’ll cool me down.”
“After you,” Tim said. He watched Ben strip off his shirt, wanting to do it for him, to run his hands along the sides of his torso, brush his fingers along his ribs and tickle the blondish-brown wisps of armpit hair. Ben locked eyes with him as he stepped out of his flip-flops. The last time they had been this undressed together, they had kissed in the grotto at Splashtown. Now it felt as if they were starting from where they’d left off. Or so Tim hoped.
Ben went to the pool and sat on the edge, testing the water with his feet before plopping in. Tim cannonballed after him. Ben bobbed beneath the water and came up again, his hair slicked back. “This is really nice.”
Tim waded closer to him. “It’s not bad. Too small to do any laps, making it a glorified bathtub.”
“Pools are meant for relaxing, not working out.”
“Working out is relaxing.”
Ben smirked. “Whatever, muscle boy.”
“I don’t remember you ever complaining.” Tim dove underwater, showing off with an underwater handstand before surfacing again. “Finals out of the way?”
“Yeah.” Ben nodded.
“And Jace?” he said casually. “You two patch things up yet?”
Ben turned away from him, his expression hidden. “Kind of the opposite. We’re taking a break.”
Tim mentally exchanged a high-five with God. “Wow. Benjamin Bentley is back on the market.”
“Not exactly.”
“No?”
“I don’t know.”
Okay, that was vague, but a break was a break. Tim didn’t want him thinking about Jace, so he playfully splashed Chinchilla, who grumbled and barked from the pool’s edge. Ben laughed and joined in, missing on purpose. Then Tim challenged him to a race, a quick swim to the end of the pool and back.
“Ready?” he said, poised to win. “One, two, three!” Tim took off, reaching the end of the pool and turning to head back when he noticed Ben was still there.
“Beat you,” Ben said.
“You never left!”
“How do you know? Are there any security cameras around here? Check them and you’ll see my lightning-fast swimming skills.”
Tim shook his head and swam back to him. “Why don’t you show me while I sit this one out.”
Ben looked offended. “Are you kidding? Moving like that is exhausting! I need a break.” He swam over to the ladder and climbed out, the weight of the water pressing the swim trunks close to his body and revealing every detail. Then Tim followed, flopping facedown on the deck chair next to Ben’s.
“Put some oil on m
y back?” he invited.
Ben snorted. “Could you think of a more clichéd line?”
“Tried and true,” Tim argued. “It’s withstood the test of time for a reason.”
“Fair enough.”
Tim waited until he felt Ben sitting on the edge of his deck chair, blood already pounding at their closeness. Then he rolled over. “Think my front needs some, actually.”
Ben looked at him, his eyes almost pleading, but Tim wasn’t sure whether it was for him to stop or keep going—until Ben turned the bottle upside down, drizzling oil on to his chest. Then Ben placed his hand there, fingers warm despite the dip in the pool. Tim wanted to cry. The emotion turned to lust when Ben moved his hand across his skin, slowly making his way south.
Tim couldn’t take it anymore. He took Ben’s arms and pulled him down forcefully. Their lips met, but this time Ben didn’t hesitate, and there would be no interruptions. Their lips mashed together with desperation, as if they were both starving for each other. Then the rest of their bodies caught up as they scrabbled at each other’s swimsuits.
As soon as they were nude, Ben climbed onto Tim, the deck chair creaking as they pressed against each other. If the kiss at Splashtown had been fire, this was an inferno. Tim couldn’t remember ever burning like this, his need shutting out thought as he gave way to raw sensation. He took the oil, using it to lube them both as Ben ground against him, but he needed everything, needed to be as close to him as humanly possible. He shifted Ben upward, grabbing his wrists and pinning them behind his back so Ben’s full weight was on him. Ben writhed and Tim shifted until they were lined up. Then Tim gently pressed inside.
Ecstasy! He wanted the moment to last the rest of their lives. Let them grow old and turn to dust in this very deck chair, because what they had now was perfection. They were one, inseparable, the five years between them melting away like a bad dream. When they exploded together, their panting bodies sticky with sweat, Tim was sure it had been just that—a horrible nightmare, but now they had woken up together.
Tim released Ben for only a second so he could wrap his arms around him. “Welcome back.”
Ben sighed against his chest, but when he raised his head, he was grinning. “You have no idea how many times I fantasized about this.”
“What, sex by the pool?”
“You know what I mean.” Ben let his head rest on him again. “Us somehow finding each other and giving in one more time.”
“I want way more than once,” Tim said, squeezing him.
“Ow!” Ben wheezed.
“Sorry.”
When he could breathe again, Ben laughed. Then he rolled to his side, propping himself up. “I never stopped thinking about you. I wanted to. Sometimes I would make it days or even weeks, but inevitably, you’d pop up in my mind.”
“Same here,” Tim said. “There’s probably a reason for that. A sound, scientific explanation.”
Ben rolled his eyes and gave him a playful nudge. “We’re having a moment here.”
“Sorry.” Tim put on a sober expression. “You want to move in with me? Get married in the morning? I’ll even build you a white picket fence.”
Ben sighed. “Of course in my fantasies, I forgot how full of shit you are.”
“Try me,” Tim dared. “Whatever you want. Name it.”
When Ben looked at him, Tim was sure he finally understood how serious he felt. Then Ben gave a gentle smile. “How about dinner with your parents?”
Tim laughed. “All right, but you have to show up like it’s an accident. I’ll call you the next time my mom is making chile rellenos.” Ben chuckled, but Tim wasn’t done. “I’m serious. About what I said, I mean. Whatever you want.”
Ben exhaled as if facing a serious decision. “Let’s let it develop naturally. By that I mean slowly. Things are still a little weird for me right now, you know?”
Jace. But Tim was no longer worried about him, so he nodded. “It might not be my mom’s cooking, but I can take you to dinner. I read about this place where you bring your dog and they also cook for her.”
“Seriously?”
“I shit you not.”
Ben glanced over at Chinchilla. “But she’s not potty-trained.”
“Maybe they ask you about that like a smoking preference. ‘Would you like pissing, or non-pissing, sir?’”
Ben laughed at his dumb joke, just like he always had… and with a little luck, always would.
Chapter Twenty-six
Tim drummed along with the song on the radio, the steering wheel doubling as a percussion instrument as he shot sidelong glances at the phone in the passenger seat. To call or not to call? Ben had stayed late on Saturday but hadn’t slept over. The next day Ben was home working on his thesis and wasn’t available. Tim had given him his space, but was beginning to regret it. On Monday, once he was done with his only class, he was tempted to drive straight to Ben’s house and would have if Chinchilla didn’t need to go out. Twenty-four hours without an “accident” was a big deal, and Tim hoped to keep the record going.
When he got to his house, Ben’s car was in the driveway, sending his pulse racing. Oddly enough, Ben appeared from around the side of the garage. Was he snooping? Tim would be worried if the garage wasn’t locked, so he pushed the thought from his mind and grinned his approval at the surprise visit.
“Wow,” Tim said as he got out of the car. “Think hard enough about something and it’ll come true.”
“What do you mean?”
One suggestive look, and Ben was enlightened.
“I’m done with school today,” Tim said. “You?”
“Home free.”
“Good. Come inside.”
Ben was uncharacteristically silent as Tim turned the key in the lock. But it wouldn’t turn because it was already unlocked.
“I let myself in around the back,” Ben said sheepishly.
“Want a key to my house?” Tim said as he ushered him in. “I’ll put it on a necklace for you and everything.”
“And then I’ll sneak upstairs to your room at night?”
“Yeah.”
The words sounded humorous, but they carried weight. Tim took Ben’s hand, leading him through the house and up the stairs to his bedroom. Standing next to the bed, he brought Ben close, pressing their hips together and swaying slowly, as if it were the last dance of the night. Ben’s eyes glittered, considering Tim anew. That was good. He wanted Ben to see that everything had changed, but so often he lacked the words to express how. What could he say that would communicate what Eric was to him? What words were sufficient to explain the years of regret that plagued him since the summer of ninety-seven?
So instead, Tim slowly undressed Ben, and unlike Saturday’s blur of heat and passion, today he took his time, kissing Ben everywhere, running his hands along his skin, rediscovering every part of him. When they lay together on the bed, the sex was secondary, a byproduct of their closeness. Even after they came, their touches didn’t cease.
Ben lay in the crook of Tim’s arm, tracing the contours of his muscles. “What are we?” he asked.
“After that? Exhausted.”
“Seriously.”
Okay, time to get real. “Well, I’d like to think that you’re my boyfriend.”
There was a heavy silence. The Ben of old had been so happy when Tim finally confirmed their relationship, but now he was pensive. For the first time, he truly believed Ben had changed just as much as he had.
When Ben finally spoke, Tim was surprised at the topic. “Are you staying in Austin after you graduate?”
“I guess so. I don’t really want to go back to Houston. Do you?”
“No. Do you ever visit?”
Tim readjusted his position, trying to remember the last time he’d gone to see his parents. He kept his answer simple. “For the holidays, yeah.”
“Your parents will be surprised to see me in your life again.”
Surely the dinner thing the other day had been a joke
. And why the hell would Ben think that Tim would want to bring him back there?
Ben tensed. “They don’t know you’re gay, do they?”
Okay, so some things hadn’t changed. “Why bother telling them? They’re hardly part of my life.”
Ben propped up on an elbow. “You said you came out!”
“I did! To friends and lots of other people. I don’t tell my family anything about me.”
“But what if they found out?” Ben said. “Last time that almost happened you ditched me rather than be discovered.”
“I’ll tell them if you want,” Tim snapped. “Am I supposed to call them right now, or can we relax?”
Ben swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He sat there a moment before standing and putting on his clothes. Tim was sure he was about to leave, but Ben glanced back and said, “I’ll make us something to eat.”
“Want me to help?”
“No. I can handle it.”
Tim let him go downstairs, staying in bed and thinking it all over. They needed more than this, more than sex to renew their closeness. Maybe he really should take Ben to his parents, correct the mistakes of the past. He could even find Krista Norman and patiently explain to her that he had loved Ben all along. Is that what Ben needed?
Tim got out of bed, put on his boxers, and headed downstairs. The kitchen wasn’t full of sizzling meat or rattling pot lids. Nothing had been disturbed. Ben stood leaning against the counter, doing nothing.
“What’s going on?”
Ben straightened up, heading for the refrigerator. “I was just about to start. Hey, you went shopping!”
“Seriously,” Tim said, walking to him. “Just tell me.”
Ben turned around and sighed. “Look, I know you’re secretive. I remember that about you, and I know you need time to open up.”
Tim raised his hands in defense. “I’m not hiding anything.”
Ben glanced toward the window, and Tim was sure. Ben had been snooping in the garage. “You mean my paintings?”
“Why are they all stuffed in the garage like that?”
“It’s my studio.”
“And it’s full of finished paintings. You practically live in a castle. Hang a few up!”