Something Like Winter Page 7

  “Wilford, my faithful companion. I thought taking him out for a walk would be a good excuse to sneak over here.”

  But Tim barely heard him. Instead he was thinking of his birthday, when he had nearly driven over some guy and his dog. It couldn’t be… could it? “You know, he looks oddly familiar.”

  “He looks like Wilford Brimley,” Ben explained. “The old guy in the oatmeal commercials?”

  “Oh yeah!” Tim laughed. “He totally does.”

  “That’s why we named him that. He just needs a pair of glasses, and the look is complete.”

  They laughed together, and it felt easy. Too easy. Krista could walk into the entryway at any moment.

  “Look, you can’t stay,” Tim whispered. “I’m trying to get laid. I’m playing up the injury thing like crazy, and she’s eating it up.”

  “Yeah, sorry.” Ben looked embarrassed, like he’d done something stupid. “I, uh, yeah. Good luck, man.”

  God this sucked, but it was going to happen on Monday anyway. Tim gave him a friendly punch to the arm, the sort that was really just pressing your fist against someone’s deltoid. “You too. I hope you sneak back in without getting caught.”

  “Shouldn’t be hard. My parents are out running errands.”

  “Oh.”

  Ben shuffled awkwardly. “Well, see ya.”

  “Yeah. Wait!”

  Ben turned around, Tim regretting his carelessness because Ben looked so damn hopeful. “I need my car keys back.”

  “Oh, yeah. Of course.”

  Ben fumbled the keychain out of his pocket, not making eye contact with Tim. Then he left the house, cutting across the yard and practically dragging Wilford along in his haste.

  Sorry, Benjamin.

  When Tim got back to the living room, Krista was still sitting on the couch, upright and alert. “Just my neighbor,” he reminded her. “I missed a delivery the other day.”

  “Oh.”

  Tim sat back down on the couch, took the marker from her hand, and kissed her with a vengeance. After a moment of surprise, she responded. To his relief, so did the rest of him, but it wasn’t easy because Ben’s hurt expression kept flashing through his mind. If the world were a different place, Tim would make Ben happy, give him what he wanted. And Tim had to admit, that’s what he wanted too. Maybe he didn’t understand it or even like it, but Tim wanted him. He grabbed Krista’s hand and moved it down to his cock.

  She pulled away instantly, face beet red. “Sorry,” she said.

  “What?” he asked, completely puzzled.

  “I just don’t…” She looked scared! “I don’t want to do that.”

  “Okay,” Tim said quickly. “That’s all right.”

  The look of fear didn’t fade.

  “Seriously,” he said. “I don’t mind.”

  And he didn’t. As much as he wanted to get laid, it wasn’t with her.

  Krista flashed a nervous smile. “Really?”

  “Really. We’re good. Come here.”

  Tim pulled her close, and she leaned into him, resting her head on his chest. He grasped around for a subject, anything that didn’t have to do with Ben, being gay, or sex. “So have you missed me being at school?” he tried.

  “Yes! Stacy told Bryce he had to bring me my lunch while you were gone, but he can’t carry three trays at once, so he had to go back and wait in line for his food. I thought it was mean and told her to stop, but Stacy thought it was funny. Finally—”

  The “finally” was just the beginning of what Krista did best. She prattled on, and Tim relaxed. He let her talk for the next hour, kissing her a few more times, but only to show her that things were okay. Then he lied and said the pills were making him tired. He walked her to the door and kissed her goodbye, but she didn’t go just yet.

  “Timmy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you think I’m a prude?”

  And there was the hint of fear again. Of course she had heard what everyone said. Rumors always made it around to the person they were about. She was terrified of what other people thought of her. Just like he was.

  “You’re not a prude,” Tim said. “You’re perfect.”

  She stared at him. Then Krista kissed him one more time and practically skipped to her car. He’d probably regret that. Lord knows it would only make her like him more. But maybe, just for today, it would be enough to make her feel good about herself.

  * * * * *

  Tim’s breath caught as the phone rang. Was he really going to do this? His body responded. Yeah, he was. Assuming Ben didn’t say no. The story Tim had concocted was so stu—

  “What?” snarled a voice in his ear.

  “Benjamin?”

  “Tim?”

  Okay. Contact established. “Man, I’m glad I didn’t get one of your parents. Are they still gone?”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Ben’s tone sounded warmer. “What’s up? Are you calling to brag or something? Tell me you aren’t screwing her right now!”

  “No, almost.” Tim did his best to sound frustrated, which wasn’t a stretch. “Came close, but she got freaked out by the European standard.”

  “O-kay.”

  Tim winced inwardly. Had he really said that? Brody used to give him hell after noticing in the shower room that Tim was uncut. For a while he called Tim “the Frenchman” because he claimed that only the French were uncircumcised. Tim did a little research and found that most of Europe didn’t circumcise. Of course Brody only gave him more hell for this, eventually referring to it as the European standard.

  “Uh, anyway,” Tim said, changing tactics, “we got into an argument and she’s gone.”

  “Sorry?” Ben said, sounding anything but.

  “So you want to come over?” The phone line was silent. This wasn’t going well. “Maybe you and I can pick up where she left off.”

  “I’ll be right there!” The line clicked and went dead.

  Tim grinned. That was more like it! Ben was on his way over and… Man! Was he really going to go through with this? If he was, he was going to do it right. Tim hurried to the bathroom as fast as his crutches would allow, brushing his teeth, spraying on cologne, and trying to fix his hair before he gave up. He considered waiting by the door until he realized how pathetic that would seem, so he returned to the couch in the den.

  You can kiss me, if you want, said the ghost in Tim’s mind, but this time he had an answer. Hell yeah I’m going to kiss you!

  Tim heard the front door open. His loose fitting jogging shorts—easy to get on over his cast—doing nothing to hide his anticipation. But maybe that was okay. This is what they both wanted, right?

  He looked up to find Ben standing in the doorway. He appeared uncertain too, but when their eyes locked, Tim guided his gaze downward. When he looked back up again, Ben’s expression was just as lustful as his own.

  “C’mere,” Tim invited.

  Ben came to him, sat next to him on the couch. One of them would have to make the first move. Ben took the initiative, reaching his hand toward Tim’s crotch, but Tim caught his wrist and stopped him.

  “What’s the rush?” He used his grip on Ben’s wrist to pull him closer. Hungry, Tim put his other hand on the back of Ben’s neck and drew him in. He saw the expression of surprise on Ben’s face just before their lips met, the kiss clumsy. Then they tried again. Tim put all of himself into that kiss, capturing Ben’s lips with his own over and over again, holding Ben’s head in both his hands now as he let his tongue slip inside.

  This was good. Not so different from kissing a girl, but somehow better, somehow right. Tim never wanted to stop, but then Ben’s hand found his chest, feeling his muscles and reminding Tim of what his body needed. He stopped their kiss long enough to strip off his shirt, grinning cockily as Ben looked him over with admiration. Then he put Ben’s hands on those muscles, tingling where Ben’s palm moved across his skin. Tim stole a few more kisses, but Ben’s hand was moving lower and lower.

&
nbsp; Tim squirmed, and Ben went for it, grabbing his cock through the shorts.

  “Wow!” he said.

  That sounded good! Tim had no idea how he stacked up to other guys. Everyone snuck sly peeks in the showers, doing a little covert comparison, but no one walked around hard. None of them could really tell what anyone else was packing, but Ben seemed impressed and intent on unpacking. The elastic band of Tim’s shorts was pulled down, causing him to tense and sit up.

  Ben was staring at Tim’s dick. Then he pulled the foreskin down experimentally before moving it back up again.

  “The European standard?” Ben inquired.

  Oh, man. What if it was an issue? “It’s normal over there,” Tim explained.

  “It’s gorgeous.”

  To prove it, Ben took it into his mouth, and Tim collapsed into pleasure. This wasn’t his first blowjob, not by far, but Benny-boy knew his stuff! Tim usually prided himself on lasting a long time, being able to run the marathon until his partner was satisfied, but in Ben’s hands and mouth, he was helpless. His hips started bucking of their own accord, and he couldn’t stop moaning. Then he came like a frothing horse across the finish line. Ben kept him in his mouth. No girl had ever swallowed, and oh man, did it feel good. Too good!

  “No more, no more, stop!” Tim pleaded. He had to pull Ben off before he would let up. Then Tim tried to catch his breath. “Fuck, that was good,” he panted. Ben looked proud, but something a little unsure flickered on his face.

  Oh. Right. What about him?

  Tim had spent all his time fantasizing about kissing Ben, maybe getting blown by him. But he hadn’t taken it further. He needed time to figure this out. “Man. I have to take a piss.”

  “That’s cool.”

  Neither of them made eye contact as Tim pulled up his shorts, fumbled with the crutches, and left the room. Tim stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, his hair twice as messy now, his silver eyes glazed over like he was on drugs. The sex had been freaking incredible, but it had also been selfish. Poor Ben was sitting out there, probably with an erection so hard it threatened to tear through his shorts.

  And the idea was kind of exciting.

  Tim grinned at his reflection. Why the hell not? He was in this deep already. Tim flushed the toilet, just for appearances, and headed back to the den. Ben licked his lips nervously and stood when he entered.

  “I guess I should get back,” he said

  “What?” Tim laughed. Poor guy thought he had served his purpose and was no longer needed “You’re crazy.” Tim reached him and shoved Ben back on to the couch. He tossed his crutches aside, falling on him in a clumsy wrestling move. Ben cried out in amused shock. This was familiar territory. Tim was the guy, Ben was the girl, and it was his role to be the dominant one, to take what he wanted. He got Ben on his back, kissing him, tasting his lips and indirectly tasting himself. Jesus, this was crazy, but Tim was already getting hard again. He reached down to Ben’s package and found it in the same state.

  “Your turn,” he huffed into Ben’s ear.

  Tim slid off to the side, his knees on the carpet. He pulled up Ben’s shirt, admiring the narrow waist and the lines of ribs sticking out. So like a girl, but still a guy. Speaking of which. Tim ripped open the jean shorts, the buttons popping loose one by one, before yanking them—and Ben’s underwear—down.

  For the first time, he saw another guy hard. Strange how different the same body part could be when it belonged to someone else. Ben was cut, of course, the head always exposed and much more purple than his own. But for a scrawny little guy, he sure was packing. Tim was bigger, which made him feel more like a man, but Ben had nothing to be ashamed of.

  “Nice,” Tim said, taking hold of it and starting to pump. Ben’s skin felt tighter, probably because he was circumcised. That made the technique Tim used on himself impossible, but Ben responded as if Tim was doing fine, moaning and writhing beneath his touch. The experience was hotter than Tim had imagined. He pulled Ben’s shirt higher with his free hand, teasing his nipples with his tongue. Then Tim did what he loved best, and started kissing Ben again. He was still kissing him when Ben exploded in his hand.

  Tim grinned as Ben groaned and jerked, taking his revenge until Ben too begged him to stop. “I’ll grab a towel,” he said. Tim’s stomach rumbled. “And then you’re going to cook for me.”

  Sliding back into their old routine was easy. The more time Tim spent around Ben, the more he appreciated that. Nothing was complicated with him. There was no dramatic discussion about what any of this meant. They had sex, simple as that. Then they hung out like they always did, watching TV or putting on music and just talking about whatever.

  Ben slept over that night, making himself a bed on the floor and giving Tim the couch. Somehow the idea of going upstairs to his room seemed too intimate. Would they sleep cuddled up together? Despite everything they had done, the idea sounded weird. Until the next morning, when Tim very much wanted Ben on that couch with him.

  They started off the day by reenacting the events of the previous evening before it came time to face the facts. Tim’s parents were coming home, which meant dismantling this fantasy world, gathering up the pieces, and putting them away. They were both a little subdued as they cleaned the house, not wanting their fun to come to an end. But it had. Tim had to say goodbye.

  “You should probably get going,” he blurted out. Ben was wiping down the kitchen counters, even though they clearly didn’t need it. “Just in case my parents catch an early flight or something.”

  Still Ben worked, his brow furrowing as if the task required his full concentration.

  “Look,” Tim began, but while the words were easy to find, saying them wasn’t. “What happened between us, well…”

  Ben’s hand stopped wiping. He looked Tim straight in the eye, giving his full attention. Maybe they could still do this, if they could find somewhere to be alone. But there was something even more crucial than that.

  “It’s probably best we keep it a secret,” Tim said. “I just don’t want people to get the wrong idea.”

  “Wrong idea?” Ben repeated.

  “There’s nothing wrong with it,” Tim backpedaled. “I just don’t want people thinking I'm gay when I’m not.”

  Ben looked at Tim curiously, like he was speaking a foreign language. But then he said, very carefully, “Okay. Not a big deal.”

  All right! That wasn’t so hard. He thought Ben would be upset. In a strange way, Tim was kind of disappointed he wasn’t.

  “So are you going to call me?” Ben added.

  “Yeah, totally!” Tim felt he said this with a little too much enthusiasm, so he added, “We’re buds.”

  “Cool,” Ben replied. “I’m off, then. Good luck with your parents when they get here.”

  “Good luck with yours! I hope you won’t be in too much trouble.” Tim reached out and tousled Ben’s hair, thinking about drawing him in for a kiss, but that wouldn’t be fair. Not if this was the end, and he couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t.

  Tim matched Ben’s smile as he left, but as soon as the door shut behind him, he didn’t feel so happy. He slowly made his way through the house, doing one final inspection for any damning evidence. Already the place seemed a lot colder, like Ben had taken the heart of the home with him.

  Chapter Seven

  “Oh, you’re home! Didn’t you hear us honk? Go help your father with the luggage.”

  “I can try,” Tim said with a grunt, grabbing his crutches and pulling himself up from the kitchen table.

  “¡Gordito!” His mother set her bag down, staring at his cast with concern. Even his father, hauling in the first suitcase from the garage, appeared worried. “What happened?”

  Tim had thought about dramatizing events, running with a story about thugs who had jumped him, or maybe how he kicked down the door of a burning building to save orphans or some crap like that. Obviously he didn’t want to tell them that a gay guy on skates knocked him over and later se
duced him.

  “Some crazy biker ran me off the path when I was out jogging,” Tim said. “Fell right into a drainage ditch. Don’t worry, it’s just a sprain.”

  “My poor baby!” His mother took his face in her hands and kissed his cheeks. “Sit! We’ll get the rest of the luggage.”

  Tim smiled and sat, enjoying the attention, but his parents began to fuss over where the laptop bag was, if they had packed the charger in a separate suitcase, and if his mother should do a load of laundry. He was pretty damn sure he sat there for half an hour waiting for more from them. Maybe something like: Why didn’t you call us? Did it hurt? Is there anything you need?

  Finally his father brought out a ridiculously huge bar of Swiss chocolate and set it in front of him. “Did the hospital get your insurance information?” he asked.

  Tim nodded. “We got it figured out eventually.”

  “Good. I broke my arm when I was a kid.” His father chuckled at the memory. “Casts are terrible, aren’t they?”

  “Yeah,” Tim said, taken aback by this divulgence. “How did you break it?”

  “Oh, my kid brother and I were—” Tim’s mother walked by with a laundry basket, distracting him. “Ella, if you’re washing shirts for tomorrow, I need the blue one. I have a meeting with a new client. No, not that one. The light blue shirt. I’ll show you.”

  His father left but didn’t return. Tim let another ten minutes of solitude pass before he gave up and went upstairs to his room. His mom knocked on his door an hour later, asking if he had eaten. She never failed in this area. Tim never went hungry, but they seemed to have already forgotten his injury. He supposed they were jet lagged or tired from their trip, so he tried not to blame them. When the house went silent, his parents retiring for the night without saying another word to him, he wished Ben was still there making him feel special.

  * * * * *

  Monday arrived like a Kansas tornado, tearing up and sweeping away the two oddest weeks of Tim’s life and returning the world to normal. Getting back to school helped. Tim was the center of his friends’ attention, and even though he had been gone for nearly as long as they had known him, they still acted like his absence was a big deal. After school, Darryl threw another of his impromptu parties, this time in Tim’s honor. And without the depth-chargers, thank god.