“Stop,” Emma said calmly.
“Huh?”
“Stop!”
Jason hit the brakes, noticing the rearview mirror was now full of an older man wearing an expression of terror.
“You almost ran over Keith,” Emma pointed out.
Just one more embarrassment to add to the day’s list. Jason definitely wouldn’t be coming back for another meeting.
* * * * *
When Jason returned home with Emma in tow, they found Ben and Tim sitting on the back patio. Samson was prowling the yard, occasionally pouncing on what he saw in the grass. Chinchilla followed along behind, head cocked with interest as she watched the cat hunt. As charming as the scene was, Jason dreaded reporting how the youth group had gone. When Ben turned around, face eager for news, Jason made an excuse to return inside and stood in the kitchen. When enough time had passed that he was sure Emma had told them everything, Jason went back outside.
“Maybe you’ll have better luck next time,” Ben said.
“I’m not planning on going back.” Jason sat cross-legged on the concrete. Emma plopped down next to him. “There’s no point.”
“Could be different guys there next time,” Tim said.
“Exactly,” Ben agreed. “Someone new or maybe a person who doesn’t attend every single meeting.”
“Maybe,” Jason said noncommittally.
“He doesn’t need a new guy,” Emma said. “He likes William. Don’t you think he should go for it, Uncle Ben? Surely you of all people think he should!”
Ben looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“I mean how you met Tim. Have you told him that story yet?”
Ben smiled. “I was out rollerblading after school one day, and I was never a good skater—”
“No, how you really met Tim. Like the first time you saw him.”
“Oh.” Ben said.
“In the hallway, right?” Tim asked. “At school.”
“No,” Emma said. “Way before then. Tim was out jogging—”
“It really doesn’t matter,” Ben said quickly.
Tim shifted in his seat to face Ben. “You saw me when I was out jogging? Like before we ever met?”
“Once or twice,” Ben admitted.
“More like a million times!” Emma chimed in.
Now Tim grinned. “So you went out looking for me on purpose? How long did this go on for?”
“Not long.” Ben sighed. “Just the last month or so of summer.”
“Oh,
just
a month,” Tim said with a wicked smile. “Wow. I had my own stalker without even knowing it. Come to think of it, I always wondered how you already knew where I lived.”
Ben sat upright. “That was a coincidence! Allison and I were out driving around, and I saw you mowing the lawn. I didn’t follow you home. I’m not that creepy!”
“And I bet you never walked by my house at night?” Tim challenged.
“Before we met?” Ben asked. Then he laughed like he’d been caught doing something naughty. “Maybe once or twice.” He turned a theatrical glare on his niece. “What does this have to do with anything, young lady?”
“You told me to always listen to my heart and go after what I want.” Emma jerked a thumb at Jason. “He should do the same.”
“This is different,” Jason said in his own defense. “William already has a boyfriend. Tim was single when Ben went after him.”
“Not exactly,” Tim murmured. “I had a girlfriend.”
“Krista Norman!” Ben said, comically shaking his fist in the air. “God, I hated her!”
“She wasn’t that bad,” Tim replied. “Anyway, what do you expect him to do, Emma? Unless you know where William lives and he happens to go jogging every night. Then Jason can pull a Ben, hide in the bushes—”
“I never hid,” Ben said. “You just never noticed me.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is.”
Tim shook his head. “I refuse to believe it. The first time I saw you was in school, and you got into my head. Right away. You never left again, either.”
Ben looked like he was about to argue further, but ended up making doe eyes at Tim.
“Juicy James,” Emma said, sounding impatient. “That’s where William works. I think it’s one of those fruit juice places at the mall. All Jason has to do is start picking up a smoothie every day.”
“The mall
is
right across from my work,” he admitted reluctantly.
“Couldn’t hurt to swing by,” Ben said. “At the very least, you might make a new friend.”
Or get his hopes up, or worse, his heart broken. As far as Jason was concerned, William was a lost cause. The sooner he forgot about him, the better.
A day off, and for the first time since coming to Austin, Jason had complete privacy. In the morning he walked the house, finding it empty. After a leisurely breakfast and a shower, he ventured out front, but even the garages were empty and still. Aside from Chinchilla and Samson, he had the house all to himself. Jason wasn’t sure what to do with this privacy. He browsed some illicit sites on his computer for sexual relief, stretching out in bed afterwards and basking in the euphoria. He was still daydreaming when he turned his head and noticed the stack of boxes along the wall. All his old things he didn’t need, taking up space and smelling like musty cardboard.
He planned to find a place for them in the garage, and was carrying a box in the hallway when a small rope dangling down from the ceiling caught his eye. The attic door was just outside his room, much closer than the garage. If it was a finished attic, he might find space for his things there. Setting down the box, he leapt up, snagged the rope, and pulled. A cross between stairs and a ladder folded out for him. Jason climbed a few steps and peeked. Sure enough, the attic had a proper floor and everything. Boxes and old furniture were up there already, making it the perfect place to store his belongings.
Jason brought up the first box, setting it down in the middle of the space as he glanced around. He saw an old lamp, an electric fan, and nearest to him, a stack of boxes. Leaning against this was a canvas, which he turned so he could view the front. Jason still hadn’t seen Tim’s art. Not properly. If this was one of his paintings, he was impressed. Depicted was a man near his own age, but one so pretty he’d hold his own against Kelly. The young man’s hair was blond, the eyes blue, his features fine and fair. He seemed to be wearing a pink bathrobe, of all things, and a mischievous smile. Jason wondered if it was meant to be Ben and if the likeness was off, but the rest of the painting was too skilled for this to be true. The style struck him just as much as the subject’s beauty, colorful light playing along every surface as if the young man was surrounded by rainbow-casting prisms.
Jason stared long and hard at the painting before turning his attention to the stack of boxes. He knew he shouldn’t pry, but that’s what made the idea so appealing. He opened the first box, finding an old Halloween mask. A werewolf. He put this on, looking around for something to see his reflection in and not finding anything. He dug through the rest of the box while still wearing the mask, discovering only old clothes, before he turned himself human and put it all back as he’d found it.
The second box was full of books—biographies mostly. The third box too. The very last box was mostly crushed by all the weight that had been placed on top. This one was full of brushes and mostly empty tubes of paint, as well as sheets stained with colors. He dug around in this disinterestedly, noticing a black sketchbook at the very bottom. Jason took this out and began flipping through it.
Some of the pages were full of drawings, others filled with messy handwriting. He paid attention to the sketches first, seeing a familiar person over and over again. He was much younger, and Tim’s drawings weren’t nearly as skilled as his painting, but Ben’s grinning face was unmistakable. In one drawing, Ben wasn’t smiling. Instead he rested his head on a pillow, his expression dreamy as he must have laid there and watched Tim draw him. Jason hovered on this image for quite some time, a yearning making his chest ache. He turned the page to spare himself any more discomfort, finding a tight column of text. Sketched next to it were two butterflies, one fluttering in the air while the other remained on the ground.
He tried to read the first line, hesitating when he saw it was written in Spanish. He’d taken a few years in school, and while his language skills were rusty, he scanned the text, trying to pick out familiar words. He didn’t have much luck, but this looked like a poem. Jason skipped down to the last line, stuttering over the words.
“Ensuhnahm… No, wait.
Enséñame volar me merry—”
The floor behind him creaked, and Jason’s head whipped around. Tim was standing at the top of the attic stairs, brow furrowed.
“Enséñame a volar, mi mariposa hermosa,”
he said, reciting the line with perfect pronunciation. Silver eyes took in the boxes around Jason. “What are you doing up here?”
Jason stood, grasping for an excuse before realizing the truth would do. “I was looking for a place to store some stuff I don’t need.”
“Okay,” Tim said, coming closer, “that’s what you came up here to do. Now what are you actually doing?”
“Oh.” Jason held out the sketchbook. “I like your drawings. They’re really nice.”
“No, they aren’t.” Tim took the sketchbook. After scowling down at the open page a moment, his features softened somewhat. “
¿Hablas español?
”
“Not really,” Jason admitted. “How was my pronunciation?”
“Terrible,” Tim said. “Or maybe my bad poetry is to blame.”
“What’s it about?” Jason asked.
“The usual,” Tim said dismissively, closing the sketchbook.
“Oh, okay.” Jason looked around, spotting the painting. “Is this your work? It’s really great!”
“Thanks,” Tim said, expression conflicted as he considered the permanently smiling face.
“Seems a shame to keep it up here,” Jason said.
“Think so?” Tim exhaled. “I should probably sell it. I keep it up here because I can’t bear to look at it, and yet I can’t bring myself to throw it away, either.”
“Whoever he is, he’s hot. I’m sure it would sell lightning-fast.”
Tim glanced over at him, then back at the painting. “His name was Ryan.
Is
Ryan, I guess I should say. It’s not like he’s dead or anything.”
But he had been in the emergency room. On Jason’s first night here, he had overheard Tim talking about Ryan. Back then he’d wondered if Tim and Ryan had a violent history together. Now he wasn’t so sure, but he was cautious when he pried. “I take it you don’t see him anymore?”
Tim shook his head. “There was a long period when Ben and I weren’t together. That’s where Ryan fit in. He needed something I couldn’t give him. Yeah. That’s probably the least complicated way of explaining it.”
“Didn’t end well?” Jason pressed.
“No.” Tim laughed bitterly. “No, it certainly didn’t.” He turned the painting around again so the front couldn’t be seen. Then he noticed something else and quickly walked to it. “Hey, did you see these already?”
Jason joined him as he opened a shoebox. Inside was a pile of jumbled photos.
“We had them all digitized,” Tim explained. “Otherwise they wouldn’t be up here. There aren’t a lot of us together, but…”
Jason watched as Tim shuffled through the photos, catching a glimpse of Ben with a pretty black girl and a photo of Jace sleeping in an old chair, Samson curled up on his lap. An entire history flashed before his eyes, stopping on one image that Tim held out to him. Jason took it. The four-by-six glossy paper was a gateway to another world, a teenager’s room, full of outdated things like the rack of CDs off to one side. Dead center, two guys younger than Jason sat on the edge of a bed. Both were instantly recognizable. Tim’s hair was longer, and he appeared much more boyish than he did now, despite having more muscle than the average teenager. Next to him, Ben’s hair was much lighter, his features a little smoother. Tim was jerking a thumb at Ben while grinning cockily at the camera. Ben, however, was staring at Tim with an expression like he couldn’t believe his luck. The funny thing was, Jason had seen Ben giving Tim that same look just the other day.
“Ben’s best friend, Allison, she took this one.” Tim sighed wistfully. “Back then I didn’t realize how much this photo would mean, or else we would have taken more together. Actually, I probably would have been too scared, but whatever.”
Jason glanced up to see Tim looking at him and shaking his head.
“What?”
Tim grunted. “You make me feel old. You know that?”
“Sorry,” Jason said.
“Don’t be. Just don’t waste it. I could have had so many more years with Ben if I’d made him my top priority.”
Jason considered the photo again before handing it back. “You guys are so lucky. I’d give anything to have what you’ve got.”
Tim took the photo, put it with the rest, and closed the box again. “That poem,” he said when he turned around. “It’s about how Ben seemed so small and weak at first, but once I got to know him, I realized I had never met anyone stronger. I wanted so badly to be like that, but I couldn’t be. Not back then. Ben did all the work, chased after me no matter how hard I kept running. If he hadn’t—” Tim exhaled. “I can’t even imagine what my life would have been like. I know it wouldn’t have turned out so good. Ben saw that we were meant to be together. Way back then, he knew it, even when I didn’t. So maybe the same thing is happening with you.”
“What do you mean?” Jason asked.
“I mean maybe you should start drinking juice on your lunch break, find out if this William guy has that same potential.”
“I don’t really know anything about him,” Jason said.
Tim nudged him playfully. “That’s my point. Go find out, and if he’s not the guy, then don’t stop looking. Besides, Ben won’t rest until he gets you paired up with someone. Do it on your own terms, or you’ll probably come home to find blind dates waiting for you.”
Jason laughed. “Will they be hot blind dates?”
“Nope. They’d have to be desperate to drive all the way out here on a whim. No, I’m pretty sure they will be old and ugly, just like me.”
Jason pretended to be repulsed. “In that case, I promise to find someone on my own.”