13. Perfectly Proportionate Bulge
13
Perfectly Proportionate Bulge
With three days of school left before Thanksgiving break, we weren’t able to break down the set pieces as quickly as I hoped, which meant I would return from the four-day weekend to a whole stage filled with shit to destroy. Annoying, but not entirely unexpected.
At least Ms. Acker was being chill about it and letting me and my friends leave early today to attend Ben’s swim meet. Normally, she would stress and want everything torn down in the first week, but she was tired and ready for a holiday, same as us.
Kim, Caroline, Harris, Jordan, and I stopped by the bathrooms near the art hallway to get changed into what Kim dubbed our “school spirit gear.” Everyone donned a mix of crimson and gold, Kim and Caroline sporting fluffy boas around their necks. I wore the tank top I’d decorated to support Ben. With red and gold fabric paint, I’d written, ‘Ben is #1’ beside the silhouette of a figure diving.
It was a bit much, but I never was one for sport events and wanted to make this count. Ben had helped with the play, and yesterday, he’d come after practice to assist us in breaking the set down. It was only fair we showed him our support. Plus, there was no way our getup would not embarrass him, and embarrassing Ben was too much fun.
Kim streaked all of our faces with red and gold paint like we were marching to war. We weren’t even swimming against our rivals tonight, but it didn’t matter. We brimmed with school pride and planned on raising hell for Ben because we could, and it would be hysterical to watch him blush.
We entered the pool room, the humid chlorine atmosphere hitting me like a brick wall, and for a moment, I was the one self-conscious at our overzealous enthusiasm. No one else was remotely dressed up, the bleachers filled with mostly parents and grandparents.
The moment I spotted Ben, however, my self-doubt melted away. He was going to self-combust from embarrassment, and it was going to be funny as hell.
He was sitting on the opposite side of the pool from where we stood, wearing a huge red swim parka. His blue eyes met mine when his bespectacled friend—Ronnie?—nudged his shoulder and pointed our way. I grinned like a fiend as his face brightened in happiness only to fall into an expression of horror.
I wiggled my torso to bring attention to my shirt, and Caroline and Kim raised their boas like pom-poms. His skin darkened until it matched his parka, and he buried his face in his hands as we burst into laughter. Kim started a chant spelling Ben’s name while we made our way to an unoccupied section of bleachers.
Ben stood from his seat and rushed around the pool, his parka billowing open. I tripped over my own feet as I got my first view of him in nothing but a Speedo. And here, I’d assumed seeing him shirtless was enough to melt my brain.
Did anyone else think it was hot in here? No? Just me? Okay, cool.
As he strode toward us, I couldn’t help but admire the blond hair covering his long legs, and, of course, the perfectly proportionate bulge in the front of his suit. His hip bones were sharp against his skin, and my blood buzzed to life in my veins as I imagined tracing the jutting peaks with my fingers. Or my tongue.
Honestly, I wanted my tongue on any part of him that he’d allow, and I sighed wistfully when my brain reminded me that it was never going to happen.
“Did you just sigh longingly?” Kim asked.
“No,” I lied.
“He sighed longingly,” Caroline confirmed.
“I hate you both,” I lied again.
They beamed at me.
“What in God’s name are you wearing?” Ben demanded as he came to a stop in front of me.
Pointing at the unfair Speedo, I said, “Says the guy in nothing but a Speedo.”
He smirked like he could read every dirty thought running through my head.“What were you expecting?”
“I could ask you the same question. Did you really think we wouldn’t show up in style?”
Kim, Caroline, and I struck an entirely unrehearsed pose, and Ben snorted.
“You didn’t have to dress up.”
Kim and Caroline pouted as Jordan agreed with a shouted, “That’s what I said.”
I flipped my head like a model in a shampoo commercial as I purred, adding flair to my inflection, “Bitch, please. We look fabulous!”
Ben bit his bottom lip. “I can’t take you seriously when you talk like that.”
Dropping my voice extra low, I said, “Sorry, bro.”
“That’s somehow worse.”
I stood with my shoulders squared, chest puffed out like I was a lame gym bro. “You don’t like my straight guy impression?”
“Are all straight guys supposed to be constipated?” he asked around a laugh.
My voice returned to normal as I said, very seriously, “Yes. All straight men are constipated. It’s the biggest problem facing our world today.”
“My God,” he said, clutching his chest, “we have to invest in more laxatives.”
“I’ve been petitioning UNICEF, but they’re all, ‘No, save the children!’ But at what cost, Ben?” I grabbed his arms and shook him. “At what cost!”
“What is happening?” Harris asked, and Ben and I looked over at my friends, who were all standing there staring at us.
“I think it’s flirting,” Jordan said.
“Yeah,” Kim added. “Definitely flirting.”
My face flamed as I sputtered a barely coherent, “Your mom’s face is flirting!”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Caroline said.
“Ben!” Ronnie called, saving me from the horribly uncomfortable situation, and Ben stepped away from me as Ronnie leaned in and spoke in his ear.
I glared at my traitorous friends and made a shooing motion to get them moving toward the bleachers before they said more inappropriate bullshit.
“Wait, Si.” Ben grabbed my hand and tugged until I started following him. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
“Okay,” I said absently, my attention stuck on my hand in his.
He didn’t release me until we’d stopped walking. I missed the touch the moment he let go.
“She’s shy, so be nice,” he hissed in my ear, and I smacked him in the chest.
“When am I not nice?”
His responding silence was, honestly, offensive.
“Esther, this is Silas,” Ronnie was saying, and I turned away from Ben with the nicest smile on my face.
The girl standing next to Ronnie was a little shorter than me, but not by much. With her short, purple streaked hair and dark clothing, she exuded an emo-punk kind of vibe that I was instantly digging. She wore black plugs in her earlobes and a barbell through the cartilage of her left ear, and her smoky eye was on point.
She removed a hand from her hoodie pocket and tentatively offered it to me, her nails alternating black and purple. Was she ace, or did she just like the colors?
“Hi,” she said in a husky voice. “I’m Esther.”
“Silas,” I said, taking her hand and shaking it. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too,” she said with a hesitant smile.
“You don’t go to our school, right?” When she shook her head, I waved my hand superfluously around the room. “Well, welcome to our pool.”
“I’ve been here before,” she said.
“Oh. Well, I haven’t. So I guess you should be the one welcoming me.”
Ben snorted, and Ronnie rolled his eyes. Esther’s mouth twitched, like she was fighting a grin.
“Welcome to your pool?” she said, voice lilting at the end to make it almost a question.
“That is so sweet of you. Thank you. I’m happy to be here.”
She laughed, a pleasant rasp bubbling up her throat, and I grinned. Yeah, we were going to be friends, I could already tell.
“How do you know each other?” I gestured between the three, and Ronnie wrapped a possessive arm around Esther’s shoulders.
“She’s my girlfriend,” he said like it was obvious.
Before I could respond, the coach called for his team to gather, and Ronnie bent down to press a kiss to Esther’s temple. I faced Ben and gave him an awkward pat on the shoulder.
“Break a leg.”
He quirked a face at me, and I shrugged.
“I mean, go swim good!” I flashed jazz hands, and Ben laughed.
“Thanks for the sentiment.”
Spotting Kim in the crowd, I stepped toward the bleachers and waved Esther over. “You can sit with us if you want. My friends are saving us a spot.”
Esther shrugged. “Okay.”
Before I could climb onto the bleachers, someone gripped my elbow and tugged gently. I half-turned as Ben leaned in unnecessarily close, and my world narrowed to spring soap and spearmint. My throat clicked as I swallowed.
“Thanks for coming and watching me,” he said almost shyly.
My heart pitter-pattered pathetically in my chest. “You don’t have to thank me.”
“Still, thanks.” He squeezed my elbow, his touch practically burning my skin. “I like the shirt, by the way.”
I glanced down at my ‘Ben is #1’ tanktop. “Well, I hope so. I made it for you, after all.”
“Does that mean I get to keep it?”
“You want my shirt?” I eyed him suspiciously, and he shrugged. “I guess you can keep it. If you win.”
The waves in his eyes crashed and swirled wildly. “Oh, I’ll win.”
“Cocky.”
“I prefer confident.”
Blowing a raspberry, I pushed him in the direction of his team. “Go put your money where your mouth is, then.”
As Ben joined his teammates, I climbed the bleachers with Esther, introducing her to my friends when we took our seats. Esther sat beside me and tucked her hands into her hoodie pocket.
“So how did you and Ronnie meet,” I asked her as the first race began.
“We’ve been friends since junior high,” she said as she watched the racers cut through the water. “His family attended my church for a little while.”
“Oh, cool.”
When the first race ended, she looked my way. “How did you meet Ben?”
“Uh, Sociology class,” I lied smoothly.
We chatted intermittently as we watched the meet. It was actually kind of boring since the only thing the swimmers did was swim back and forth in a straight line. But we cheered for Ronnie when he swam butterfly, and I was excited for the intermission when Ben would dive.
During the last race before the diving portion, Ben shed his parka and started stretching, and I did my best not to ogle. But there was so much skin and smooth muscle. It was just very nice, okay?
When the divers were called forward, I clapped and cheered as Kim and Caroline waved their boas. Ben studiously ignored us, but his cheeks were red and he was smiling, so I knew he loved it. Even if he was embarrassed by our antics.
When it was his turn, they announced Ben’s name, and I rested my elbows on my knees as he climbed the three steps to the board. He walked to the edge and turned his back to the pool, balancing on the tips of his toes. I might have admired his round ass packed into that tiny Speedo, but then again, who wouldn’t?
In my not so professional opinion, his first dive was executed with precision, and when Ben resurfaced, we stood and clapped. He swam to the ladder and pulled himself out of the water with a satisfied smile curling his lips. The judges held up their score cards, three 8’s, and the team went wild again.
“I didn’t know he was that good,” I confessed as I clapped.
Esther shot me a surprised look. “You haven’t seen him dive before?”
I shook my head, not understanding the confusion painting her face.
Every time Ben completed a dive, we cheered and chanted his name obnoxiously. And he’d ignore us, even as his flushed face split with embarrassed smiles.
“Give me a B !” I shouted, and Caroline and Kim echoed me. “Give me an E !”
Ben waved at us in a futile attempt to make us stop. We did not stop.
In the end, Ben lost first place by only two and a half points, but he took the loss with grace. He shook the first place winner’s hand, laughing at something she said, and he accepted congratulations from his team and the crowd as the diving results were officially announced.
Even though he didn’t win the diving portion, Ben’s second-place points pulled the team ahead, and a half-hour later, when the final relay finished, they tallied the scores and announced our team the victors.
We jumped to our feet and cheered as the team celebrated down below. Caroline, Kim, and I started another chant, spelling Ben’s name again, and I caught the middle finger he sent our way.
Since he was still smiling, I didn’t feel bad. So I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled at the top of my lungs, “What’s that spell?”
My friends, and even Esther, answered my call.
“Ben!”