The Right Time

by Lane Hayes

  Adrenaline rushed through my body, making every nerve ending pulse. My heart thundered wildly as I searched the now calm water for him.

  “Over here!”

  I glanced sideways to see him treading water twenty feet away.

  “Stay there,” I commanded.

  “No, I’ll swim to you.”

  He didn’t wait for my response, so I sat up on my board to get a better view of his progress. He was stubborn, but at least he was a strong swimmer.

  “Can you climb on to rest, or do you want to swim back? I see your board near the shoreline.”

  “I’ll rest for a sec. Fuck, that wave sent me flying! I had it too! Did you see?” Alex’s eyes blazed.

  He was obviously unfazed by his misadventure, which pissed me off. “Yeah, I saw. You could have been seriously hurt. You totally misjudged the height and the strength of the—what’s so funny?”

  “Nothing, Papi.”

  I rolled my eyes at his outrageous teasing and scooted back to give him room to join me on the board. Unfortunately my wetsuit made it impossible to do anything about my half-hard dick. As the rush of adrenaline abated, a totally different kind of energy coursed through me. His playful taunting exacerbated everything. I was suddenly nervous to be in such close proximity to him, floating on a surfboard far from shore. I didn’t trust myself not to say something stupid, so I remained quiet and tried to ignore the electric current racing through me as I held out my hand to help him climb on the board. He flashed me a devilish grin and pulled out of my reach.

  “You shouldn’t take risks like that,” I admonished.

  “No risk, no reward, Nate. Besides it was fun.” He shrugged, unperturbed by his run-in with danger.

  “I know I should shut up because, yeah, I sound like someone’s dad, but you could have been seriously injured, and because you lost control of your board, you could have hurt someone else too. It wasn’t safe.”

  He pasted a mockingly contrite look on his face and cradled his face in his hands with his elbows resting on the surfboard. “I said sorry. Please don’t spank me, Daddy.”

  I huffed a short laugh and looked away to hide my certain blush at his provocative words. Why was it everything he said went straight to my groin? He was too enticing. I alternated between compete confusion and total clarity in my reaction toward him. He was the embodiment of an emotional rollercoaster. But this inner turmoil was mine. Not his. He was just a guy killing some time surfing with his neighbor on a Sunday morning. I didn’t read any of the attraction I thought I had at the gym. In fact, I was beginning to think I’d been wrong about everything. Maybe even him being gay.

  “Hey. I scared you, and I apologize. It’s nice of you to care, but I’m pretty tough, Nate. I don’t break easily.” His expression was earnest and sincere. Then he lowered his voice a notch and leaned forward with a wink. “And I like it when things get rough and a little out of control. Makes it fun, you know?”

  He chuckled at my carefully blank face before leaning forward to throw his leg over the board and straddle it. When I saw his intent, I balanced myself in the middle until he was on and able to shift weight to the other half of the board. He settled himself opposite me and shook his wet hair with a devilish grin. I gave him a dirty look and started to move back.

  “Don’t. Stay where you are. We won’t teeter so much if we’re close, and the sea is calmer out here. Let’s hang out for a minute and… I don’t know, chat.”

  “You want to chat? Your board’s all the way—”

  “It’s on the beach. No one is going to run away with it, Professor, so go on, tell me something interesting about yourself.”

  He was torturing me. I was stranded on a surfboard in the Pacific with the most beautiful man I’d come in contact with in years. I could barely keep my gaze from dropping to admire his fit body encased in the tight wetsuit, and he wanted to talk about me?

  I chuckled under my breath and looked out to sea. “I got nothing. Sorry.”

  “Hmm. I’ll ask questions, then. Cool?”

  “Uh….”

  “Nothing too taxing. What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done in the water? It could be anything. Like you rode the biggest set ever known to man or you had sex on a surfboard.”

  “Sex on a surfboard?” I sputtered. When he smiled knowingly at my response, I made a production of loosening the straps of my glasses to wipe the moisture off the lenses.

  “Too crazy, huh? Can you see without those?” he asked, gesturing at my glasses.

  “Not a bit.”

  “That’s wild. Can I check ’em out? I’ll be careful. Promise.”

  He held his hand out, and unbelievably I set them in his palm. My visibility was reduced to two feet in front of me, max, which meant Alex was all I could see.

  “These are strong.”

  “Yeah, I’m practically blind without them.” I felt my face flush and was instantly irritated with myself. Visual impairment was the least of my issues, I thought ruefully.

  “Hmm. Well, here… let’s get these back on your head before we’re knocked off this board.”

  I reached for the glasses just as a swell swept underneath us, forcing me to use my hands to steady myself or be tossed into the ocean. Alex chuckled.

  “Very funny.”

  “I’m not laughing at you, Professor. Come here. I’ll put them on your head.”

  “That’s not necessary. I got it.”

  “I dare you.”

  “What? That’s—”

  “Silly? My balance is good, and you’re a little wobbly without these. Lean forward.”

  I couldn’t read his expression clearly without getting closer, though I tried to infuse my own with irritation. This was weird, except for the fact that he was right. My balance was definitely compromised. I inched closer to him.

  “More.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Come closer.”

  I swallowed hard but obeyed and was pushed even nearer to him with the help of another swell. This time when I reached to steady myself, my hands landed on his thighs. I started to pull away but stopped when he set a hand over mine.

  “Hey, it’s okay. I got you.”

  He moved closer still. So close I could feel his breath on my mouth. I should have pulled away, but I couldn’t. I felt hypnotized. Bewitched and bewildered. Alex was in control. I couldn’t even see without his aid.

  “Alex.”

  “Shh.”

  A gentle wave rocked the board slightly as he closed the gap and softly kissed my lips. I was stunned, but I didn’t pull away. Sure, I was blind without my glasses, and any jerky movement would send us both into the water, but my mind wasn’t worried about coherent thought. I was transfixed. When he deepened the kiss, I leaned into him. My hands rested on his thighs, our knees brushed, and our lips touched. Fuck, it felt amazing. It was all about the senses. No worry about decorum or the fact that we were two men who barely knew one another engaged in a lip-lock as we floated far from shore. When Alex tilted his head and traced the curve of my mouth with his tongue, my eyes shot open.

  “No sudden movement, Professor. Not until you get these back on anyway. Here.” He deftly set the straps over my head before pulling back with a small smile. “You’re all set now. See you back on the beach.”

  He balanced his arms like a gymnast and swung his leg around evenly before diving from his waist into the cold Pacific Ocean. The moment the balance was upset, I went flying into the water too. I sputtered as I surfaced and gripped my board for support. Alex was already swimming toward the shore, but I was almost sure I heard him call out, “race you!”

  ONCE WE’D changed out of our wetsuits, we toweled off and took the cooler down to the sand. I could barely look at him, but I didn’t argue when he suggested we grab our towels and head back to the sand to enjoy the impromptu picnic. I wasn’t myself. It was a mystery I didn’t protest and make up some flimsy excuse about having to work or… something. I didn’
t say a word. I was torn between needing space to process this new development and the very real desire to be near him. It was easier to follow his lead and sit in the sand, sipping water and chomping on fruit.

  “The waves are kind of mellow today,” he commented idly keeping his gaze fixed to the horizon. “That last one I dominated was the only really big one.”

  “Dominated? Someone is living in another dimension,” I observed sarcastically, chuckling when he began humming the theme song from the 1950s The Twilight Zone television series.

  “Maybe I wrestled a little, but it was worth it. It’s good to get your heart pumping, right?”

  “Hmph.” I glanced at Alex sitting beside me in the sand, and when I caught myself staring at his handsome profile, I searched for a topic change. “I’ve wanted to come to Surfrider since I moved here.”

  “Where do you go normally? Is the surfing good in Oxnard?” Alex asked, plucking a few grapes from a stem and popping them in his mouth.

  “It can be. I’m generally happy to go where it’s convenient. Work makes that a necessity, I suppose. As long as I’m by the ocean, I’m good.”

  “I love the water too. I’ve always lived near the beach, now that I think of it. Even when I lived abroad.”

  “Where did you live when you played abroad?”

  “Hmm, let me think. I started in LA, but my first professional gig was with a team in Buenos Aires. I was there for a couple years, then Colombia. I went to Europe and played for Spain and eventually came home again. The last team I played for was in Boston. I moved back to LA about three years ago.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  Alex didn’t answer at first. His posture was relaxed with his toes wiggling in the sand and elbows casually resting on his bent knees. His gaze was fixed on the horizon as though deep in thought, but I could have sworn he flinched at my question. I waited, hoping I hadn’t accidentally opened a sore subject.

  “Every day.”

  He used the same sentiment when he mentioned his mother’s death. I wondered absently if the end of his career felt as catastrophic. Time to back away. Whether or not it was a touchy subject for Alex, I wasn’t confidant material. I wracked my brain for a segue that didn’t scream awkward and of course failed miserably. I was too tangled in the memory of that kiss in the water to manage any conversational finesse.

  “Do you still play? You know, just for fun?”

  “As often as possible. Do you play?”

  I glanced up to see him turned toward me with one leg splayed open as he leaned back on his right hand. He seemed to be studying me carefully while he waited for my response.

  “Well, not since high school. Honestly, other than to watch the World Cup every four years, I don’t pay much attention to the sport. So yeah, it’s been a while.”

  He shook his head in mock despair. “That’s the problem in the US. Fútbol reigns worldwide. There is no bigger sport. Nothing compares. But here, most people play as kids and then forget about it after junior high school. I’m American. Born and bred in California, but thankfully as a Latino I was taught to appreciate ‘the beautiful game.’”

  “‘The beautiful game.’ I’ve heard that phrase before. Why is soccer called ‘the beautiful game’?”

  “Because it’s simple. Simple is beautiful. All you need is a ball. The rules aren’t elaborate. In fact, it’s the one sport that relies on team collaboration and individual skill at the same time. Your part is always significant no matter where you stand on the field.”

  “I’m sure that applies to most sports.”

  “I disagree. In American football, the quarterback is the main brain. I’m not suggesting the receivers and defenders don’t play an integral part, but one man is leading the initial play. In baseball, the pitcher sets the tone. If he plays his role to perfection, no one else needs to lift a finger.”

  “You’re guilty of extreme exaggeration,” I said, shaking my head in disagreement.

  “Hmph. I’m not out to convert you. You’re allowed your own opinion.”

  “Oh, gee, thanks,” I grumbled.

  “What is your favorite sport? Football? Baseball? Or did I not insult yours yet?” His smile widened as his full mouth quirked with easy humor.

  “I’m not insulted in the slightest. The truth is I like every sport a little bit. Enough to enjoy watching highlights or the actual games but not enough to freak out when my team is losing.”

  “A fair-weather fan, eh?” he teased.

  “Hardly. If I’m rooting for a team, I stay the course. I’m not the type to switch teams when things get rough.”

  Alex went quiet again and shifted so his legs were straight. “Loyalty is important.”

  I watched him carefully, aware again of a change in his mood. It was infinitesimal. I could almost convince myself I was wrong. After all, I was the guy who tended to ignore the most obvious mood swings in people I’d known much longer than I’d known Alex. Those who knew me best would swear sensitivity wasn’t my strong suit.

  “I’ll have to catch a game on television.”

  “I have a better idea. You can come play sometime.”

  “Play? Soccer?”

  “Yeah. You asked if I still play, and the answer is yes. I play in two leagues. One is advanced for players like myself who recently retired or who want to stay in shape in the off-season but the other is really just for fun. Michael started a center a couple years ago for Latino LGBT youth. I help run clinics and organize games. We can always use bodies, and since you speak Spanish, you’d be perfect. What do you say?”

  “Uh.”

  Alex barked a quick laugh and swiped his sunglasses off his nose. “Which part did you miss?” He put a hand up before replacing the dark lenses and looking away. “No pressure, Nate. If you’re interested the offer is open. The community always needs volunteers.”

  “Community?”

  “The LGBT community. Particularly the youth. Everyone talks about equality and marriage rights and forgets about the very real issue of intolerance at home.” He licked his bottom lip and stared at me for a long moment as though weighing his words before he continued. “I’m gay. If you didn’t figure it out when I kissed you out there, I’ll make it clear now.”

  His gaze held challenge, but I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I nodded like an idiot, knowing anything I said would surely come out wrong. I bit the inside of my cheek nervously and stared at him. His beautiful eyes, his strong, even jaw, and gorgeous mop of hair. I opened my mouth and quickly closed it again when courage failed me. Where was my voice? This was my chance to be honest. To air the turbulent thoughts in my head before they threatened to condense and choke the life out of me. To admit I was more than I gave away.

  “Since I didn’t push you in the ocean, you probably know I’m…”

  “You’re gay or bi. Am I right?”

  I looked away from him. I had the oddest sensation I was sitting naked in the sand, though no one seemed bothered by my lack of clothing. They should be. I was exposed. I stared at the horizon line hoping it might help quell my sudden bout of nausea. I felt off-balance and more than a little pissed at myself. Jesus, Nate, you’re a grown man. Talk to him.

  “What makes you think so?” I tried for nonchalant, but I had no idea if I hit the mark.

  “The way you look at me.” He let out a breath and curled his lips inward. I think he wanted to say more but decided against it.

  “Oh.”

  “Am I right to assume you’re not out?”

  “It might be more accurate to say I don’t know what I am anymore.” I gave him a weak self-deprecating smile and closed my eyes.

  “Hmm. So you’re attracted to men, but you don’t go there?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Hmm.”

  I took a deep breath and reached for my water bottle before attempting to speak. I really didn’t know where to begin, but I didn’t like the strain my silence was imposing. The subject was open. It was
a fight-or-flight moment. Talk or don’t. Up to me.

  “It’s been fifteen years since I was with a guy. It didn’t end well, and it was entirely my fault. I swore I’d never go there again.” I paused, too overcome to continue.

  “So you decided to be straight?” he prodded.

  “You don’t decide to be straight any more than you decide to be gay, Alex. And you don’t decide to be bi. If you are, you are. That’s all.” I couldn’t believe I made it sounded so simple when in fact it was anything but for me.

  “But you can decide not to fall for a guy if you try real hard?” The sarcasm wasn’t hard to miss, though his expression wasn’t unkind.

  “It’s easy not to fall for anyone when you work as much as I do. And the feeling tends to be reciprocal.”

  “Well, believe it or not, I get it.”

  “Are you bi?”

  “No, I’m gay. No question. I love women, but I have no desire whatsoever to be physically intimate with them. Boobs and girl parts do nothing for me. I tried a couple times, but I couldn’t….”

  “Get hard?” I supplied, surprised I could find humor in what I’d always considered a deep, dark secret. I hadn’t had a frank conversation about sexuality in well over a decade. A cautious sense of liberation stole over me, steadily beating back my uncertainty.

  “Exactly. The only reason I tried at all was because it’s expected in my culture. I’m Latino, Nate. My parents came from Mexico to the States with nothing. They built a good life based on cultural and religious traditions for my sister and me. Everything important in life revolves around God and family. And thankfully in my dad’s case, fútbol too.”

  “Does your dad know you’re gay?”

  “Yeah. He caught Michael and me making out in our underwear when we were teenagers. Talk about awkward.” He chuckled at the memory and gave me a funny grin. “We were seventeen. My mom was teaching piano, and Dad was supposed to be at the field for a meeting or something. My house was usually a safe place to go because my parents worked, and my sister had moved out already. Michael’s house was Grand Central Station. There was always a crowd.”