Page 7 of For the Love of Scott
Ben wrenches his eyes away from Scott’s abdomen to catch Dooley’s smarmy smirk before snapping his gaze to Scott’s. He feels the weight of five pair of eyes, but doesn’t care. He only has eyes for Scott, who, at the moment, only has eyes for him. Everyone else fades into the background. Scott’s eyes have gone wide and the color on his face has deepened although probably only Ben realizes the man has just blushed. Ben holds his gaze for what seems like minutes and then finally shrugs. His feelings haven’t really been a secret, although he’d have much rather revealed them to Scott in a less public forum. But the knowledge is out now and there’s no taking it back. Ben doesn’t want it back, truth be told. He’s tired of waiting for the right moment that never seems to come.
Scott’s chest rises and falls with the breath he takes and then he nods.
“Four-four,” says Tim. “Let’s play to the next point and call it done. I want to get home.” He looks at Ben and waggles his eyebrows. “Rachel’s ovulating.”
It takes a moment for Tim’s meaning to register and Ben makes a face. “Oh, God—that’s my sister, you jerk.”
Everyone laughs, and, just like that, the tension dissipates, although Scott’s feelings on the matter of Ben’s feelings remain to be seen. But as he’s proven, Scott isn’t prone to overly public reactions.
Jake carries the ball out of bounds and tosses it to Dooley, who nudges Scott—nothing illegal—and sprints to the free throw line. Ben meets him there and waves his arms up and down and around, doing his best to keep the jerk from getting the ball to either one of his teammates. But Dooley times it just right, and when Ben brings one arm down, he jumps and hurtles the ball toward the backboard.
Ben whirls around and watches as, by sheer dumb luck, the ball bounces between the rim and the board and drops into the net. He throws his hands up and groans. And just like that, the game is over.
“Yeah,” Dooley shouts, raising a fist.
“Lucky shot,” calls Tim.
“Skill, baby, pure skill.”
Ben snorts and Scott shakes his head.
Everyone gathers up their gear and makes for the door. Ben lets Jake and Scott chat. It’s good for Scott to get to know other people as he’s been mostly holed up at the kennel since he’d taken ownership over the summer. Sam has set the basketball next to the locker room door and jogs across the court to catch up. He flips off the switches, plunging them into mostly darkness as they push into the parking lot. A couple of light poles centered in the asphalt keep the parking lot illuminated. A swarm of insects buzz around in the light like Kamikazes. The weather hasn’t quite gotten cold enough to kill them all off yet.
Tim and Sam break off first, heading toward Tim’s respectable little sedan. “Night, brother,” he calls to Ben. “I’ll say hi to your sister.”
Samtee heesrather loudly.
“Yeah, yeah,” Ben replies. “Night.” He so doesn’t even want to think about that.
“You want to do a dude, but you don’t want to think about your sister having sex? That’s a little hypocritical, don’t you think?” Dooley asks.
Ben whips his head to the side to see Dooley’s smirk and raised eyebrow.
“There’s nothing hypocritical about it.” Ben shakes his head. “I wouldn’t want to think about my sister having sex if I were straight. She’s my sister.”
“Good point.” Dooley angles for his vehicle and tosses his bag into the back of his truck. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he says and guffaws.
“No worries,” mutters Ben. Besides the whole liking-women thing, Dooley makes reference to all kinds of activities Ben has no interest in. A snowball has a better chance in the Sahara Desert.
“Take care, man,” says Jake to Scott. “We start back after the new year. I hope you’ll join us again.”
“Thanks,” Scott says, looking like he’s just found a hundred-dollar bill on the ground. “I’d like that.”
“Night, Ben,” says Jake, holding out a hand and clicking his key fob. The large pickup truck chirps and the lights flash.
One by one, the vehicles rev to life and pull out of the school parking lot, and then it’s just Ben and Scott. They approach Scott’s beat-up little kennel truck without speaking. It’s so old, it pre-dates the use of key fobs. He actually has to stick the key into the key slot and turn it to unlock the door.
“Sorry about tonight,” Ben says, although he isn’t quite sure what he’s apologizing for. Maybe for Dooley, maybe for his own revelation.
Scott sticks his hands into his coat pockets and leans against the truck bed. He studies the inky sky and then the gym building before meeting Ben’s gaze. “Is it true?”
“It is.” Ben offers a single nod. He stands a couple of feet from Scott, and the condensation of their breathing dissipates between them. Ben’s grateful they’re outside the fluorescent glare of blue-white light. The shadows allow them both a bit of cover.
“I didn’t know,” says Scott.
“No one did.”
“Really?” Scott asks with a slight scoff. “None of those guys were at all surprised.”
