Him (Him #1)(40)

“You need a haircut,” a female voice pipes up.

“Yeah,” he concedes, running a hand through his golden hair. I’m jealous of that hand. “What’s new in Cali?”

I listen while his family all tries to talk at once. “Guess who’s knocked up again?” a male voice asks.

“Language!”

Apparently Jamie’s sister is pregnant again. And one of his brothers got a promotion. Another brother broke up with his long-time girlfriend.

“I’m sorry about that,” Jamie says.

“We’re not!” a sister cries.

“Fuck off!”

“Language!”

Suffice it to say that Jamie’s call from home is nothing like mine.

“So, son,” an older voice booms. Jamie’s dad always manages to sound commanding without coming off like an *. My father could take a few pointers. “What have you been up to this week?”

I snort so hard that Jamie’s eyes flick over to me before quickly moving back to the screen. “The usual,” he says, giving me a kick under the table. “Lots of ice time. Went hiking.”

Sucked off my gay friend Wes.

He keeps his eyes firmly on the screen so I can’t really tell whether he’s sweating this part of the conversation or not.

“Sounds good,” his father rumbles. “Your mother is busy in the kitchen, but she said to tell you to make sure you come home before you head for Detroit.”

“I’ll try,” he promises. “It depends on whether Pat can replace me for that week.”

“Your mother also reminds you to try to get enough fiber and eat organic.”

There’s a boom of laughter from the phone at that.

Jamie grins. “I’ll get right on it.”

“Be good, Jamie!” “Love you!” “Wear your cup!” More snickers. More endearments.

And then Jamie ends the call, tucking his phone into his shirt pocket, shaking his head. “Sorry about that.”

“No big. Still want to swim?” Please say no.

“Yeah. Let’s do it.”

The town beach is at the southern end of Mirror Lake, really close to the dormitory. Everything in Lake Placid is close to everything else. This town was a summer resort for rich people well before it was a winter sports destination. So we pass all manner of attractive old buildings on the short walk to the little beach.

Jamie kicks off his flip-flops and strips off his shirt. He walks into the water, where his shorts start to cling to his body even before he’s submerged himself.

I follow him, of course. He could lead me anywhere right now, and I wouldn’t argue.

The cool water feels great, though. When I’m up to my thighs I dive under, chasing Jamie out past the sandy area. There’s a floating raft a hundred yards out, and we swim to it.

Jamie is smiling at me when I break the surface. With one palm I splash him a good one, then dive under again to escape retribution. Passing him, I make for the far side of the raft.

When I come up to take a breath, a big hand pushes me under again. So of course I’m coughing when I bob up a second later. “Fucker,” I sputter, even though we spent the better part of our summers trying to drown each other every afternoon after practice.

He’s got an elbow on the raft now, too, which prevents me from dunking him. Figures. So I do the same, coming to perch beside him.

Our shoulders are touching. All he has to do is turn his head and his mouth would be inches from mine. And then all I’d have to do is lean forward and his mouth would be on mine.

But he doesn’t turn toward me. He just stares straight ahead.

Fucking hell. I can’t take this anymore. I need to know where we stand. Because the thought of spending even another minute guessing what this guy wants from me is absolute torture.

Under water, I reach out and touch his belly with my fingertips.

Jamie’s eyes widen. But he doesn’t say anything. I hitch myself over to be a little closer. Then I flatten my palm on his cool, wet skin, my pinkie finger breaching the elastic of his shorts. I don’t think anyone can see what I’m doing. But Jamie’s eyes do a circuit of the lake. He’s worried.

Fuck, I don’t want to freak him out. “Feel like going home now?” I ask. It’s code for, are we going to fool around again? If we’re not, I wish he’d just tell me. Put me out of my misery.

He licks his lips. “Yeah,” he says. Then he knocks my hand away. “But cut that out, or I won’t be able to get out of the water.”

I obey immediately.



* * *



Five minutes later we’re walking into the dormitory, our clothes dripping on the old tile floors. But that’s how people roll around here in the summertime. The place is mostly quiet, which means the kids are all at dinner.

Without a word we walk into our room and shut the door. The first thing I do is drop my shorts and boxers to the floor where they make a wet slap. Jamie follows suit. Then we’re both just standing there, starkers, staring at each other. His eyes are startled, and my heart quakes with the fear that he’s about to say, “I can’t do this again.”

“We have to be quiet,” he says instead.

My smile is the size of Mirror Lake. “You can bite the pillow when I make you scream.”