Something Like Winter

by Jay Bell

  “Of her or the countless straight guys you’ve toyed with?”

  Ben’s face grew serious. “It’s not like that.”

  “I was just teasing.”

  “I know, but you’re different.”

  Tim wasn’t sure what that meant. Was he different because Ben thought he was gay, or was he different because Ben had feelings for him? Either way, the intensity of that look had Tim interested in anything but more conversation. “Kiss me.”

  Ben came to him and did as he was told. Tim started gently but then nibbled and gnawed on his lips. He felt like he could eat Ben up, like some sort of cannibal vampire. Kissing Ben drove Tim wild, maybe because he didn’t have to be as cautious as he was with girls. He would have gladly spent the rest of the day lying together in the leaves, but a twig snapped and they both jumped. They froze, only their eyes moving as they tried to detect more noise. When it didn’t come, they both chuckled. Then Ben attempted to unbutton Tim’s shorts.

  “Not here!” Tim said, sitting up and knocking his hand away. “Jesus, we’re out in the open!”

  Ben’s brow furrowed. “We’re not exactly in public. No one ever comes out here.”

  “But they could,” Tim said. “There are houses just over there.”

  “Fine.” Ben rolled his eyes before a different idea occurred to him. Tim knew from his expression that he was in trouble. “Come home with me. I’ll smuggle you upstairs to my room, and you can stay the night.”

  “Like your parents wouldn’t notice?”

  “My parents won’t care,” Ben said. “Those are your choices. Whip it out here and now, or come home with me.”

  “Or I can go home and jack off,” Tim said.

  Ben’s smile was way too confident. “You can’t say no to me.”

  Instead of arguing, Tim proved him right.

  * * * * *

  True to his word, Ben smuggled him inside the house and up the stairs undetected. Ben lived only a few blocks over, in a neighborhood old enough to have character. The houses were a little smaller than those in the new subdivision where Tim lived, but still decidedly middle class. Once they reached the safety of his room, Ben slipped out again to order a pizza for dinner.

  Ben’s room wasn’t quite what Tim had expected. That is, it contained nothing conspicuously gay. No posters of guys on the wall or rainbow bedspreads. Tim couldn’t even say it was tastefully decorated, since it was all a little eclectic. The wrinkled-up bed had probably been made in haste. A coat rack in the corner held a jacket or two and a couple of hats, and two identical CD shelves were maxed out. A small writing desk against one wall held a laptop, and of course the requisite stereo and TV finished the decor. All in all it was a typical guy’s room, except maybe for the scented candles on the windowsill.

  Tim felt restless, sitting on the edge of the bed briefly before rising again to check out a collage of photos on the wall. Most were of Ben and a pretty black girl—the fabled Allison, most likely. In one Ben had his hair dyed black and Allison was pretending to smoke a pen like it was a cigarette. In another they were younger and dressed for Halloween. Allison was wearing a man’s suit, a false mustache, and slicked-back hair. Ben was dressed up like a woman, wearing make-up, a horrible wig, and a tank top stuffed with two oranges for boobs. Tim leaned in, trying to decide if Ben as a girl did anything for him when the bedroom door opened.

  Ben walked in wearing a hopeless expression, his mother close behind. She couldn’t be anyone else, the family resemblance all too clear. Take Ben, make him shorter and style that blond hair into a bob, and voilá!

  “Sorry!” she said. “I don’t mean to intrude. I’m June, Ben’s mom.”

  “Tim,” he said, accepting her extended hand.

  “Aren’t you handsome! We’re just about to order pizza, and I wanted to know what you like.”

  “Which I told her I would run up and ask,” Ben muttered.

  “Oh. Uh.” Tim tried to remember what he usually got, a task made harder by the way June’s eyes twinkled—like her son had brought home a girl for the first time. “Canadian bacon and pineapple,” he managed at last.

  “Yuck,” Ben said. “Just cheese and diced tomatoes on my side.”

  “Okay. Well, you two have fun tonight. I won’t barge in again, I promise.”

  “It was nice meeting you,” Tim said.

  Ben’s mom checked him out once more, looking a little less certain. No doubt about it, she was trying to figure out if they were an item or not.

  “Sorry about that,” Ben said once the door was shut and locked.

  “It’s cool.” Tim sat on the bed again. “She seems nice.”

  “Yeah. Well, the good news is that you’re all clear to spend the night.”

  “Isn’t that a little weird?” Tim asked. “I mean, that would be like asking my parents if a girl could spend the night. They would flip, even if she was just a friend.”

  “I guess. I had guy friends spend the night when I was a kid, so there’s precedent.” Ben moved through his room, self-consciously straightening different things. “Anyway, do you need to call your parents or something?”

  Tim shook his head. “They won’t notice.”

  “Oh.”

  For a moment, everything felt awkward. Mothers could be a tremendous mood killer, and they weren’t going to get it on while waiting for pizza to arrive.

  “Oh, I know!” Ben said. “I’ve been dying to play this for you.”

  He moved to his CD racks, running his finger along one of them until he found what he was looking for. “Roberta Flack,” he said, but it didn’t ring a bell until the stereo started playing Killing Me Softly. But this version was much more chill, without all the bored rappers in the background making random noises. Ben gave him an “is this cool or what?” look, to which Tim nodded in response, but he wasn’t completely satisfied.

  “Sing,” he said.

  Ben gawped at him, as if the idea was unthinkable. “It’s Roberta Flack!”

  Tim crossed his arms over his chest and scowled until Ben gave in. Roberta sounded good with a guy backing her up. Ben’s voice chased away the awkwardness, casting a spell on his room and conjuring their private fantasy world back into existence. And Tim was happy.

  The rest of the night was easy. They made small talk, Tim asking about different things he saw in the room, like the stories behind the various photos of Ben and Allison. When the doorbell rang, Ben rushed out to get their pizza, making another trip for a two-liter bottle of Coke and some glasses. They watched Toy Story while they ate, a movie Tim missed when it was still in theaters. Ben’s dad managed the local cable company, so they had every possible channel and even got their pay-per-view movies for free.

  The side of Ben’s bed was shoved up against the wall directly across from the TV, doubling as a long couch. Tim stretched out his legs, and as the movie wore on, he moved one so it touched Ben’s. Then Ben scooted over, their arms brushing and making Tim’s skin tingle. Tired of being coy, he took Ben’s hand in his own, and it didn’t feel strange like he thought it might.

  Ben must have seen the film before, because he sang along with You’ve Got a Friend in Me whenever it played in the story, shooting a few coy smiles in Tim’s direction. When the movie was over, Ben shut off the TV with the remote, neither of them moving from the bed. The room was dark, lit only by a street light outside.

  “It was never like this,” Ben said. “Those other guys, they never held my hand.”

  Tim wished he hadn’t said that. If a bunch of other horny straight guys didn’t cuddle up with Ben, then it made him look, well—

  “They didn’t even kiss me,” Ben said. “Everything was one-sided.”

  They didn’t kiss him? Now Tim felt more conflicted than ever. If given an ultimatum between kissing Ben and getting blown by him, Tim thought he could go without the oral sex. Those other guys had no idea what they were missing.

  Ben squeezed his hand. “I just want you to know that this isn�
��t a game I’ve played dozens of times before.”

  “Okay.” That’s all Tim could think to say. He didn’t want to delve into what any of this meant. Doing so made it too hard for him to enjoy.

  “Ready for bed?” Ben asked.

  Tim smirked. “Something like that.”

  They took turns using the restroom, with Ben going first. Tim went second. Outside Ben’s room, the house was dark and quiet, the only light a sliver in the bathroom that Ben had left on for him. Tim thought he could hear snoring downstairs, either Ben’s father or the family dog. Finding his way back without the bathroom light on was even harder. Ben’s bedroom was next to his sister’s. Wouldn’t she be in for a surprise if Tim accidentally slipped into bed with her!

  Fortunately, he made it back to the right room. The lights were still off in Ben’s bedroom, but the candles in the window had been lit. Ben was already beneath the sheets, shirtless at the very least, lying on his side but facing the door. Tim stripped off his shirt, Ben’s brown eyes watching his every move, absorbing the details of his body. Tim stood at the side of the bed, close enough for the candles to illuminate him, but far enough away that he couldn’t be touched. He unbuttoned and unzipped his shorts next, the boxers underneath already tenting. When he lowered the shorts and boxers down and off, he waited, basking in Ben’s attention.

  Then he crawled into bed and pulled back the sheets. Ben was already naked, lifting his hands to touch, but Tim moved Ben’s arms away. Instead, he did the touching, kissing every part of Ben’s body he could find. As Ben lay on his back, arching and moaning, Tim showed him just how different he could be from those other guys.

  Chapter Eight

  It was over.

  The past month had been the best of Tim’s life. He’d been to crazy parties—not just sneaking some quick drinks at Darryl’s before his parents got home, but all-night affairs that probably cost more in damages than they did in alcohol. Tim reached a happy impasse with Krista. Their relationship wasn’t going any further, and both were content with that. And then there were the nights spent with Ben. They were the highlight, the times Tim looked forward to most, but now they were over.

  Tim attacked the canvas. He wasn’t usually into abstract expressionism, but today he needed to see the reds of rage blurring together with oranges of anxiety. He needed to purge his system of the anger and despair he felt before he crumpled beneath their weight.

  He had never wanted things to become complicated. Not with Ben. That meant juggling more separate lives than he usually did, but Tim was skilled at this. Like now, since painting was something private he didn’t share with anyone, even Ben. Such things were necessary. Keeping his parents pleased by not attracting unwanted attention. Maintaining his image at school. Both of these were crucial to making his time with Ben possible. No one was asking questions, drawing unwanted conclusions, or getting in their way. Ben might create the world they shared, but Tim protected it. And now he was being punished for having done so.

  A shopping trip to the mall with Krista. That’s when it all started to unravel. As usual, Krista held on to his arm as they moved from store to store. Tim had spotted Ben and his mother first. Thank goodness Krista was distracted by a window display of jewelry when they passed by. Tim nodded at Ben, which was all he could do, but then everything had exploded. Not there at the mall, but the next time they were alone.

  Tim could understand how Ben felt. If he had seen some guy hanging off Ben’s arm, it would have hurt, but Ben had known about Krista from the start. He understood she was necessary to maintain the right image—or so Tim had thought. The last time they had seen each other…

  “Who do you like more, Krista or me?”

  “You,” Tim had told him. And it was true. Ben knew it was. “I like you more. When you’re not pissed at me, at least.”

  “Who do you sleep with? It’s not Krista, is it?”

  “No. I sleep with you.”

  “So why do you need her when you have me?”

  And Tim knew that the usual reasons weren’t enough for Ben anymore, that like everything good, things had gotten complicated. Tim attacked the canvas again, but the red he had mixed was a little too pink. He tried adding some yellow near it to make the hue appear deeper, but this only seemed to highlight it.

  Tim stepped back and sighed. The painting appeared more amorous than angry. In the center, created by chance, was a shape like one lonely heart, surrounded by a mess of emotions. Feeling sorry for it, he gave the heart a partner, tracing the edge of another right behind it, so close that they almost appeared as one.

  He had fucked up. Ben had done everything right, and Tim had ruined it. Of course being with Krista hurt Ben’s feelings. Right from the beginning, Ben had made sure Tim knew he was special, more than just a fling. And Tim had responded by keeping Krista around. And kissing that girl on the beach. What the hell had he been thinking?

  Sometimes he wondered if something was wrong with him. Tim felt like a flower starved of sunlight, and every time that fiery orb rose in the sky, he jumped at the opportunity to soak up its warmth. He basked in attention like it gave him life. And now he had caused night to fall on the brightest days he had ever known.

  His time with Ben had been precious. No, his relationship with Ben. That’s what it was—could be still—if he somehow salvaged it. If Tim was going to keep Ben, he would have to start taking risks. Starting with Krista Norman.

  * * * * *

  The flagpole dinged, the halyard and hooks blowing repeatedly against the metal cylinder. The noise seemed to haunt every school Tim had attended. The sound was desolate, one he usually noticed only when the parking lot emptied and everyone had gone home. Like now. School was out and cross country practice was over. Krista had come to watch him, as she sometimes did, and Tim had decided not to delay anymore. Surely this was better than calling her, like he had originally planned.

  But watching Krista’s face, he wasn’t so sure.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “I just can’t be with anyone right now,” Tim said.

  “Is it because I—”

  “No. It’s not because of that, I promise.”

  “Then why?”

  Tim had struggled to find the right excuse, anything but the truth. The most effective reasons were also the most hurtful; another girl or that he simply didn’t like her. But he couldn’t bring himself to say any of those things, because as ditzy as Krista was, she was all right.

  “There’s stuff going on at home,” Tim said. “It’s complicated, and I don’t like to talk about it. I’m sorry.”

  Krista covered her nose and mouth with her hand, as if she could hold back the tears this way. Tim felt terrible.

  “You’re the only girl for me,” he said, hoping to make her feel better. “You won’t see me with anyone else. Maybe once everything blows over—”

  A false promise, but he hated letting anyone down. For once Krista didn’t have anything to say, so he walked her to her car, which she had parked next to his. When he hugged her, he pretended not to notice her tears. Then he turned, got into his car, and drove away.

  * * * * *

  Tim stood in front of Ben’s front door, steeling himself. The driveway was overflowing with cars. The street too. Tim had to park half a block down. Five balloons were bundled together and tied to the mailbox. If this wasn’t indication enough, colorful paper letters on the door explained the rest, quivering in the October wind.

  Happy Birthday!

  Ben’s birthday bash was in full swing. They had talked about Tim attending before their falling out, and of course he had remained silent, not wanting to be around Ben’s family more than he had to. Not that they didn’t seem wonderful, but Tim felt what he and Ben had together was private.

  That was about to change. He rang the doorbell and stood there ten seconds before he felt like ditching the present on the porch and jogging to his car. Before he could, the door opened. Ben’s face was lit up, like he’
d been on a smiling marathon all day, but his expression shifted to surprise.

  “Hey!” Ben said, sounding more upbeat than negative. “Uh, come on in!”

  Tim could hear numerous voices elsewhere in the house. He wasn’t ready for this. “That’s okay. I just wanted to bring this by.”

  Ben looked down at the present. Tim felt what the paper concealed must be obvious, considering the long thin shape.

  “Oh, hi!” Mrs. Bentley appeared behind Ben, beaming at Tim like she always did. “I was wondering when you would show up! Come on in and grab some cake.”

  “No really, I—”

  Mrs. Bentley waved a hand dismissively. “Come on, don’t let Wilford get out the door, or we’ll never see him again.”

  Tim slinked inside, nearly jumping when the door shut behind him. He needed to chill, and quick.

  “Time to meet the family,” Ben said with a nervous chuckle. “The extended version.”

  “Great.” Tim smiled at him, trying to put an apology into it. As always, Ben seemed to understand. They stood there, eyeing each other like years had passed instead of a week. He could almost imagine them going up to Ben’s room, but Tim was led to the heart of the party—where about ten thousand relatives waited for them.

  Well, not that many, but they certainly made Tim’s family seem small. He shook a lot of hands, missed almost all the names, and suffered a few old lady hugs. Then someone tall, dark, and gorgeous hopped in front of Tim’s path like a ninja.

  “Allison,” she said by way of introduction, smiling broadly at him.

  There was no mistaking that look. She knew everything, absolutely everything, he and Ben had been up to. Tim took her hand and gave her his best smile, which only made her grin grow wider.

  “Up close, I can see why Ben puts up with you,” she said playfully.

  “Don’t worry,” Tim said. “Once the looks go, I’ll be ancient history and he’ll be all yours again.”

  “I’d rather you stick around,” Allison replied. “I’ve had my hands full with the boy for far too long. The break has been nice.”