7. Ethan
7
ETHAN
Light. Headache. Tired.
I blink at the ceiling, trying to get my eyes to focus. My head throbs with a dull, insistent ache. Ahh, Saturday mornings, gotta love them.
Something smells amazing . Musky, spicy, citrusy…it’s cologne, unlike anything I’ve ever smelled before.
My god, it smells so hot. I smile as I let myself sink deeper into this plush hotel mattress and slide my legs back and forth between the crisp white sheets before I kick something.
Wait.
This isn’t my bed.
I kicked… James.
Shit. James. I must have ended up in James’s room.
Memories from last night come rushing back. We went to a bar, James got us all shots and made friends, the team bought me a stupid amount of drinks, and everything after that is fuzzy. I’m blanking on what happened between taking a triple shot of something with Gabe and waking up in James’s bed.
Pressure rises in my throat. Did I try something stupid with him? I’ve never made a move on anyone unless they were interested back, but I was super fucking drunk. Anything could have happened.
I feel myself up under the covers and realize that I’m still in my clothes from last night. Glancing at the other side of the bed, James appears to have changed at some point. He’s curled up with an arm hanging lazily off the edge of the mattress.
Okay, I’m fine. I didn’t fuck up.
The bright sunlight streaming in highlights the sharp angles of his face and makes his sun-kissed skin glow?—
Nope. Nope nope nope. I shouldn’t be noticing any of this.
Great. Another morning where my brain has no choice but to hyper-focus on how attractive James is with bedhead and stubble.
I’ve been here before and I’ve got it down to a science: shut it down before it starts, keep my treasonous brain in check, and it’ll all be fine. Rolling over, I reposition myself and slam into the pillow with a thud, one that’s loud enough to wake James up.
Oops. Time to close my eyes and pretend to be asleep.
“Well, good morning, beautiful,” James says, his singsong voice dripping with sarcasm. I crack one eye open to find him grinning, with his eyes half-rolled.
“Beautiful? You need to wipe the sleep out of your eyes. I’m unwashed and hungover as hell,” I mumble, but I can’t stop myself from smiling.
“It’s all good man,” he says, his voice warm. “We’ve all had those nights. Just promise me next time you decide to go all out, you won’t lose your room key.”
I laugh softly, grateful that he’s being chill. “Yeah, got it. Thanks for not making this a big deal.”
“No problem. Honestly, I’m just bummed that we didn’t come back with anyone last night.”
“So much for not being a fuckboy, huh?”
James socks me in the face with a pillow. “I’m not a fuckboy, but that doesn’t stop me from having fun, buddy.”
I laugh and shove the pillow back at James, the movement making my head throb. “You’ll have plenty of other chances,” I reply.
James turns to face me, eyebrows raised. “Oh, I’m sure. But I have to say, you have insane willpower. Girls were lining up to get your attention all night long. I don’t think you even noticed any of them.”
A line of girls? That doesn’t register. I only remember two of James’s new friends who immediately clocked me as gay.
“Yeah, well, that’s normal for me,” I say.
James looks genuinely curious. “Oh? How do you keep your head straight?”
Hesitating for a moment, I think carefully about what to say. I could give him the normal platitude of keeping myself focused, but finding the right words for that is way harder when I have a splitting headache.
It’s probably better to be upfront and tell him the truth. “I keep my head on straight by not being straight. I’m gay.”
Wow, Ethan. That was so smooth. Not.
James’s eyebrows shoot up, but he recovers. “Huh.” He pauses before another one of his wide smiles spreads across his face. “Damn, the women of Boston are gonna be pissed. The trashy sports magazines are already writing about you.”
“What?”
The bed starts shaking with James’s laughter. “Oh man, you haven’t seen?”
“Seen what?”
James reaches over and grabs his phone before typing something, still chuckling to himself. After an excruciating wait, James turns his phone to me.
“Drink it in, Ethan.”
My eyes tense up as I scan the article that James loaded. There’s a collage of pictures. Of me. And my arms. And my ass in baseball pants. And a thirsty headline that I immediately purge from my memory.
Ethan Sullivan: This New Heartbreaking Outfielder Will Pop Your Fly!
“Oh my god, who wrote that headline?” I groan. Ignoring the fact that “outfield” and “pop fly” don’t belong in the same sentence, I don’t need gossip magazines blasting my face everywhere and declaring that I have “outfield appeal”, whatever that is. I turn the phone back to James.
“I’m guessing you don’t want me to read you the comments?” James asks, with fake innocence.
“Please don’t.”
Putting his phone back down, James turns to face me. “I’m not kidding about you breaking hearts because you’re off limits.”
“It won’t matter anyway. I’m planning to keep my old apartment in Portland and commute.”
James doesn’t even try to hide his confused expression. “You’re planning to stay in Portland?”
I look away sheepishly. “Yeah, it’s not that far and I got a good deal.”
It doesn’t look like James believes anything I’m saying. I’ll admit, I wasn’t looking forward to the drive, but it’s doable. Besides, I’m not invincible, and I want to save as much as I can during my first season in case I get injured.
I snap out of my thoughts to stare straight at James, and it’s obvious that gears are turning in his head.
“Here’s the deal,” James starts, “I don’t have a place yet, but I have an idea. We should look for a place together before the season starts.”
“You don’t have a place? Opening day is in a week.”
Letting out a massive sigh, James flops back onto his bed.
“Nope, haven’t started looking. I was planning on staying in a hotel until I found an apartment, but if you’re on board to live with me, that’ll give me motivation to get my ass in gear.”
“I don’t know, man, I’m not opposed, but?—”
James’s eyes are bright with excitement as he sits back up. “Come on, it’ll be fun! We can split rent, have a bigger place, and we’ll keep each other on track during the season. Also, I’m easy to live with.”
I glance at the room around us. I nudge James, gesturing at the floor that’s littered with clothes, towels, and protein bars. “You sure about that?”
My chest tightens as I ask myself the real question: how the hell could I live with someone so effortlessly hot and not give myself away? I have willpower, for sure, but being in close quarters with James would seriously test my limits.
He shoves me. “I’m gonna blame the mess on you and your wild, drunken stumbling last night.”
“So you know that I’m chaotic,” I say, still half-joking. “You want to deal with that all the time?”
“Nothing I can’t handle. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?”
I accidentally fall for you because we’ll spend almost every waking moment together? I can already see it unfolding. Us: roommates. Him: everywhere. Me: crushing helplessly.
Can’t tell him that, though. “You have a point,” I say.
James smirks back at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. It’s almost unfair how captivating his smile is. “It’s settled! We’re living together. No take backs.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not planning on taking anything back.” I hesitate, wondering if I’m forgetting something. “Oh, also, just to be completely clear, you’re okay that I’m gay, right? Because we’re going to live together and all that.”
Chuckling, James runs a hand through his hair. “Nah, no issues there. Besides, one of my best friends from high school is gay, so you aren’t the first.”
“Awesome.”
Sticking out his arm, James motions for me to shake his hand to seal the deal.
“That’s it, then,” I say, bringing my hand back to my side. “You can start going to viewings while I drive up, if you’re cool with that.”
James glances away nervously. “So, I might have forgotten to book a flight back to Boston.”
“You’ve been down here in Tampa since March. Are you telling me that you never bought a return flight?”
He shrugs sheepishly. “Yeah, I figured I’d fly standby or something, but now, I mean, do you have room in your car?”
I stare at him, surprised. “You want to drive to Boston? With me?”
“Yeah, it’s more eco-friendly.”
I scoff. “Eco-friendly? You know I drive a pickup. You just want to avoid booking a flight, don’t you?”
“Maybe. But it’ll be chill! You’re fun and I love hanging out with you.”
He thinks I’m fun? And he loves hanging out with me? That’s unexpected.
I chuckle and roll my eyes. “Alright, man. You can come with me.”
James throws himself across the bed and pulls me into a bro-ey side hug. “This is gonna be the best road trip ever. I’ll even help you drive!”
I tense up. It’s a hug. Nothing more.
He lets go of me and jumps up, grabbing a water and a pack of painkillers before throwing them at me.
“Take these, get cleaned up, and then get out of here,” he says, winking at me yet again. “I gotta get myself packed and ready for the drive tomorrow.”
Somehow, I manage to peel myself off James’s bed before the afternoon rolls around. I find my keycard in my other pocket, stumble back to my room, shower, and then get into my bed.
This is gonna be interesting. Spending way more time with James might stretch my control, but I’ve dealt with this before. I shared a room with Paul Tani during every away game in college and I didn’t fall in love with him, his chiseled cheekbones, or his stupidly perfect abs. Everything will be fine. Living with James won’t be a big deal at all.
It’s the crack of dawn, and James insists on heading out to beat traffic or whatever. He’s somehow full of energy, impatiently jumping from one foot to the other as I finish checking out.
“We good to go?” I ask, slipping my key card into the drop box.
“Yeah, let’s roll out!” James grabs his stuff and darts out of the hotel, leaving me to awkwardly speed-walk after him.
“You’re a true country boy with this truck setup, aren’t you?” James says, flashing me a half-smile as he hoists his stuff into the truck bed.
I raise an eyebrow at him, smirking while loading my stuff. Country? I’ll show him country.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, I give James a cheeky side-eye, fire up the truck, and hit the power button on the multimedia console. My country playlist blasts out of the speakers at an obnoxious volume.
James’s expression falters momentarily, but he recovers. “Oh, you think you’re funny, don’t you?”
I chuckle, pulling out of the parking lot. “I’m just giving you the full country boy experience.”
James doesn’t beg me for aux like I’d expected. Instead, he smiles lazily and leans back in his seat. “I vibe with this. My boys back home would always play this stuff up at the cotty.”
“The what?”
“Short for cottage. You go up in the summer, it’s on a lake…” James trails off, waiting for me to understand. I don’t.
James gives up. “It’s a Canada thing. Think of it like a cabin.”
“Well, I’m sorry I don’t understand your Canadian nonsense. You think I parlez-vous francais like you moose people?”
“Moose people?” James scoffs. “Buddy, you’re from Maine . You’re more of a moose person than I am.”
He’s got me there, so I roll my eyes at James, letting him win this one.
A couple of hours into the drive, we switch drivers at a gas station right across the Georgia border. I lie back in the already-reclined passenger seat and buckle in, preparing to relax for the next few hours.
James gets over his initial giddiness at driving a pickup and we settle into a pleasant silence, but he randomly decides to speak up. “There’s something you need to know.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” I ask, opening an eye.
“I’ve made it my mission to get you out of your shell.”
“What, is getting drunk and sleeping in your bed not enough for you?”
Heat flashes in my core as I think of all the different ways that James could interpret what I just said.
Unfazed, James keeps his eyes fixed on the road. “You’re a little reserved. Nothing wrong with that, but since we’re living together, I’ll keep trying to open you up.”
I laugh. “It’ll take time. I’ll warm up eventually.”
“That’s exactly why you need me,” James says. “I’ll speed things up with a little exposure therapy.”
“Exposure therapy?” I repeat, my curiosity prickling. “What does that involve?”
James flashes me a mischievous grin. “It’s simple, man. We’re gonna ask each other uncomfortable questions right off the bat so we don’t have any walls around each other.”
I chuckle nervously. Those walls are useful because they keep me sane. “Are you serious?”
“Oh yeah. I’m persistent. By the time this road trip ends, we’ll know each other’s deepest, darkest secrets.”
“What is this, a sleepover?”
“Nah, we already had that. Just a little bonding between two dudes.”
I sigh. “Sure, I’m good to try out this ‘exposure therapy’, but don’t expect anything groundbreaking.”
Without missing a beat, James gets right into it. “Tell me about the best sex you’ve ever had.”
I choke on my breath as a laugh bursts out of me, and I can’t stop. My body curls up in the seat as I keep giggling uncontrollably. Trying to catch my breath, I wipe a tear from the corner of my eye. “Dude, why do you even want to know?”
“It’s just some casual, friendly conversation.” James says, completely unfazed. “And it’s working because you’re already loosening up.” He taps the steering wheel in victory, proud of himself. “Now, spill. You gotta answer.”
“Bruh.” That’s all I can manage.
“Go on, don’t hold back. Tell me all the dirty details. I’m not gonna pop a woody or anything so you have nothing to worry about.”
I pause. “Alright. You want the details? Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Stalling for time, I stare out the window while thinking about how to start. “Okay, so it was back in my senior year of college with a guy I was hooking up with. We were never together-together, but we had something going on for a couple months.”
“Go on.”
Another breath. I mentally prepare myself to say words I’ve never said out loud, let alone thought . “My team got knocked out of the NCAA playoffs and I was feeling down when I got back to Burlington. He hits me up to fuck so I head to his place, and he starts off by giving me some amazing head.”
James stays quiet, his eyes still fixed on the road.
I continue, strangely confident and determined to tell James what he wants, or doesn’t want, to hear. “We had plans to go all out, but I was so worked up that I ended up finishing after like three minutes, just gripping the sheets and trying to keep it together. It was way more intense than anything I’d felt before.”
There. I said it out loud, which is a feat for me, given that I’m a private person. I don’t offer up details of my sex life like some of my straight college friends do with each other, and I even had to channel their energy, just to get through my story.
“Damn, Ethan,” says James, letting out a quiet whistle. “I thought you were gonna give me some weak-ass story, but no, you brought out the big guns.”
Heat continues to rise in my cheeks as I laugh nervously. “Well, you asked for it straight up, and I delivered.”
He chuckles. “Honestly, I respect it. Three minutes, though?”
“I was on the road with a roommate for weeks , man. Half of the hotels we stayed in had a window between the bedroom and the shower. I’m surprised I didn’t come the second I took my pants off.”
James winces, his face scrunching up in sympathy. “Okay, I’m curious. How long can you go without?—”
“Nope! No more from you!” I cut him off before he can finish asking me whatever depraved question he had in mind. “It’s my turn now.”
James laughs. “Fine, fine, that’s fair. Hit me.”
There’s a part of me that wants to scratch the itch in the back of my mind and see if James has at least considered being into guys. I should know better than to feed into a random delusional fantasy, but hell, he just asked me to describe some guy-on-guy sex to him in lewd detail like it was nothing. The thought nags at me as I consider backing down and asking something else, but then again, what harm can a vague question do?
Screw it.
“Have you ever kissed a dude before?”
James answers immediately. “Never on the lips or anything, but back home the boys and I would give each other forehead kisses when we got wasted. We love each other.”
I cock an eyebrow. “That sounds kinda?—”
Gay.
“—intimate?”
James laughs, as if to say I’m overthinking this. “Nah, man. It’s what we did. Just because I’m straight doesn’t mean I can’t care for my friends.”
Straight. Mildly disappointing, but I’m kinda glad I have concrete confirmation. That’ll make it way easier to avoid crushing on him.
“We were all super comfortable around each other,” he continues. “Except for my friend Luke, we were all straight, but we always acted super couple-y with each other, just as a joke.”
“You acted couple-y with your friends?”
“Just playful, unserious flirting, the normal stuff that guys do. I’m pretty sure I’ll be the same around you, to be honest. It’s how I show affection to all my friends.”
Even though I can’t totally wrap my head around what James is describing, it doesn’t sound all that different from what I’ve seen before. A ton of straight guys mess around and jokingly act gay with their friends. James is probably the same way.
“Alright, man,” he says, shooting me a sideways glance. “Enough about me. Time for question two.”
I hold my breath, not knowing what to expect. I swear to god, if he asks me some crazy shit about kinks or something, I’m gonna?—
“Other than this past Friday, tell me about your most embarrassing night of drunken debauchery.”
Phew. I can tell him about the time my Korean friend in college introduced me to Soju. In my defense, it tasted like juice.
The miles fly by, and even though James gets bored of the whole “exposure therapy” game, we end up having fun with each other. By the time we call it a day, I can barely keep my eyes open, but I’m also relaxed in a strange sort of way. We pull up to the hotel I booked right off the highway, and we walk straight to the room because I checked in through the app beforehand. Not that I’m antisocial or anything, it’s just easier that way.
I breathe out a quiet sigh of relief when my eyes land on the fold-out bed that I asked housekeeping to bring. I guess the urgent request that I made minutes after James added himself to the trip worked out.
The next morning, we hit the road again and both of us are quieter, which probably stems from the fact that we’re both drained from the marathon drive from yesterday. The blacktop seems to stretch on forever, and we trade the driver’s seat a couple of times. On my third shift, James dozes off with his head leaning against the window, leaving me alone with my thoughts for a few hours.
When the GPS interrupts the silence by instructing me to turn on to I-93, James wakes up and looks around. “We almost there?” he asks, yawning.
“Pretty much. I’ll drop you off at the station like you asked.”
James stretches and yawns. “Sounds good. Thanks for the ride, man.”
Fifteen minutes later, we pull up to Quincy Adams station. James grabs his bag from the back, then walks around to my window. “Thanks again, Ethan,” he says.
“No problem at all,” I say, giving him a small smile. “Take care.”
He gives me fist bump. “You too, man. I’ll find us a place and I’ll see you soon.”
I watch James disappear into the station and I drive off, eager to finish the last hour and a half of this two-day road trip. Sharing the trip with James made it way easier, and I definitely appreciated the company.
Living with him is gonna be great. I just have to stop myself from crushing on him. That shouldn’t be too hard, right?