Switch Pitching (Off the Bench #1)

32. James

32

JAMES

DECEMBER

“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me.”

Well, I can try, but I’m not making any promises. Not when I have nothing else to do but stare pointlessly at a moving gray conveyor belt. Ethan is playfully shaking me, and I pretend to chomp at his fingers to make him stop. We’ve been stuck at baggage claim for almost half an hour, and my bag is nowhere to be seen.

“Your sister’s coming to pick us up, right?” asks Ethan, snapping me fully awake.

“Yeah, Sofia’s waiting for us at arrivals. You’ll like her. She’s quieter.” That’s kind of true, but I don’t know if anyone else I know is as quiet as Ethan. Sofia is quiet relative to the rest of my family, but Ethan is gonna give her a run for her money.

Ethan nods, and we go back to fixing our eyes on the conveyor belt. My eyes widen when I spot my black roller bag lazily trundling toward us, and I run over to scoop it up. I make a mad dash for the exit, hand my customs slip to one of the border agents, and almost stumble over myself as I spill into the waiting area.

Scanning the room, I spot Sofia waiting on one of the hard metal benches, wearing her trusty black jean jacket. As soon as she sees me, she gets up and runs over.

“Look who finally made it, James Dickhead the Third himself, only an hour late,” Sofia says with a smile.

“Great to see you too, Sofia.”

She slaps my arm to brush a piece of lint off my jacket. “Where’s Ethan?”

I look behind me. No Ethan. “He should be right behind me.”

Sofia proceeds to punch me again, for real this time. “James, you’re an asshole! Don’t tell me you abandoned your boyfriend at customs!”

Ethan saves me from further ridicule by emerging from baggage claim at just the right time.

“That’s him,” I say, pointing in his direction.

“Sheesh. He’s tall ,” says Sofia. “You snagged a cutie.”

My cheeks heat up, something I think I picked up from Ethan. Wait. Is it even possible to start blushing all the time just by dating someone?

Ethan makes his way over and stretches out his hand. “Hi, you must be Sofia. I’m Ethan.”

Sofia ignores his hand and wraps Ethan in a hug. “Ethan! It’s so great to finally meet you! Welcome to the Hernandez tribe!”

“It’s good to meet you too, thanks.” Ethan’s voice is strained, and he’s suffocated by Sofia’s embrace.

“You didn’t greet me with a hug,” I complain as Sofia lets Ethan go.

“That’s because you’re a baseball player so you smell like ass.”

“He’s also an athlete. We’re literally teammates,” I point out, but I realize there’s no point in arguing.

“Anyway, let’s go home. I used the free pickup parking and that’s gonna run out in five minutes.” At that, Sofia turns on her heel and marches toward the exit.

“You told me she was quiet,” says Ethan.

“Yeah, compared to the rest of us,” I reply.

Sofia hears our conversation and smiles back. “If James didn’t make it obvious yet,” she starts, now walking backward, “we’re a really lively bunch. You’re gonna love it!”

We make it to Sofia’s car, put our luggage in the back, and pile in. Sofia carefully exits the parking lot and immediately gets stuck in traffic.

“The city’s welcoming you back the only way it knows how,” says Sofia sarcastically, through gritted teeth. I take a peek at Sofia’s GPS and see a big stretch of red coming up.

“Yay,” I deadpan.

“Why did you make me pick you guys up when the airport train exists?” demands Sofia.

“I didn’t ask you to!” I shoot back.

“Yeah, well Mom did.”

“I literally told her that we’d take the train! Also, can we stop bickering in front of Ethan?”

“Why? That’s only delaying the inevitable.”

I sigh. “He’s an only child.”

“Damn, lucky you,” says Sofia, glancing back at Ethan. “I mean it’s not all bad. I’ll have time to give him the big interview.”

“Huh?” Ethan and I say at the same time.

“No interviewing my boyfriend! I’m an adult!” I insist.

“You turned twenty-two a month ago. It’s my duty as your older sister to audit anyone you bring home and?—”

Sofia suddenly lays down on the horn and swerves to stop someone from cutting her off. She takes her sunglasses off to glare menacingly at the perpetrator before straightening out and composing herself.

“Where was I?” she continues. “Right, interrogat— interview . Yeah. Ethan. Where did you two meet?”

I jump in before Ethan has a chance to reply. “We’re teammates. Can’t get any more PG than that, Sofia.”

“I knew that. Just wanted to see if I could catch you out.”

Jesus Christ. I know she’s only joking, but still.

She doesn’t stop. “Next question. I’m curious as to how this all started.” She gestures between me in the passenger seat and Ethan in the back.

Ethan pipes up. “It was a surprise to both of us, I think. I definitely wasn’t expecting us to get together when the season started.”

Sofia dramatically jerks her head up. “So, something changed. Did James take one look at you and go like ‘oh, damn, guess I like men now’.”

Ethan and I snicker at the same time. “Yeah, that’s essentially what happened but I didn’t realize it at first,” I admit.

Sofia laughs. “Let me guess, he flirted with you right from the start,” she says, staring pointedly at Ethan through the rearview mirror.

Ethan nods and smiles.

Wait, how did she guess?

“How’d you know?” I ask, still curious.

Sofia turns to glance at me. “Oh, come on,” she teases, rolling her eyes. “Don’t act like you don’t shamelessly flirt with literally all your friends. Everyone knows about that.”

Ethan snorts and I reach back to slap him in the knee.

“I don’t flirt with all my friends!”

“Oh, really?” There’s a stop in traffic, so Sofia turns to fix me with a disbelieving expression. “What about Luke? Your gay friend who had to deal with you getting drunk and cuddling him and kissing his forehead and fake proposing to him throughout high school?”

“That was just me being affectionate!”

Glancing back, I see Ethan cowering behind his hands, trying to contain his laughter. The second I make eye contact with him, he loses it and barks out a startling laugh at a volume I’ve never heard coming from him before. His borderline cackling is infectious, and Sofia starts up, too.

I’m so happy that my sister and boyfriend can both find humor in my rare moments of social unawareness. Yay.

“Oh my god, James, you’re an idiot,” Sofia says through giggles, huddling over her steering wheel. “The poor guy obviously had a massive crush on you until grade ten. Every time he’d come over and you’d pull one of your flirty jokes, it looked like he was in pain.”

“Well, shit. I should apologize to him or something,” I mutter.

“It’s not that deep, bro. He’s definitely moved on—” Sofia cuts her sentence short and swerves the car into an opening in traffic, punching the gas and lurching us forward into an express lane. She speeds up to normal highway speeds and sighs in frustration.

“When we get home, remind me to sell my car.”

After way too much time stuck in even more traffic, Sofia pulls up to our parents’ house, a sensible brick building with a finely manicured lawn. It’s classic Rosedale, but not over the top like the place Ethan and I have back in Boston. It’s still a lot, though.

“Welcome to the Hernandez house,” I say to Ethan as we slide out of the car.

Ethan nods, but I can tell he’s taking it all in. “Damn, this is where you grew up?”

“Yeah, it’s a bit much.” What else can I say? It’s Rosedale.

We all head inside, and the moment we walk through the door, Mom’s already rushing over to hug me. “James! It’s so wonderful to have you home!”

I hug her back. “I’m happy to be back.”

Mom pulls away and smiles up at me, then turns her attention to Ethan. “And you must be Ethan! It’s so fantastic to finally meet you! I’m James’s mom if that wasn’t obvious, and you can call me Maria.”

Mom proceeds to wrap Ethan in a massive hug before he can finish saying “nice to meet you, too”.

“Right,” I say to Ethan. “We’re a family of huggers. Guess I should have mentioned that.”

“All good,” assures Ethan as Mom unwraps herself and ushers us all inside.

We head into the dining room where Dad’s lounging at the head of the table with his tablet reading the news or something. He glances up and grins. “There he is! And you brought your partner in crime. Hey, Ethan! I’m Mark, nice to meet you.”

“Thanks for having me,” Ethan says, still looking like he’s trying to get used to the house.

Dad pipes up. “So, Ethan, James tells us you’re from Maine?”

Ethan nods. “Yeah, a small town called Machias. It’s way off the beaten path. The two of us visited over American Thanksgiving.”

My mom’s eyes light up. “Oh, that’s wonderful. I’m so glad you got to go up and see your folks.”

“Yeah, it was good. It was the first time I went back in a while.” Ethan looks briefly at me as he finishes his sentence. I can tell he isn’t going to elaborate on his family situation, and I don’t blame him.

“Great! Dinner will be in a bit, but first, I’m sure we have a ton of questions for Ethan!”

Sofia jumps in. “I handled it. He’s clear.”

He’s clear? What is this, a spy movie?

Mom and Dad seem to have the same questions as I do. “You cleared him? What does that mean?” asks Dad.

“Oh, you know, the usual. Just wanted to make sure he has good intentions with my baby brother.”

“I’m a year and a half younger than you. I’m not a baby.”

Ethan snorts, which starts a chain reaction of laughter from everyone in the room, except me.

“I’m glad you’re all having fun at my expense,” I mutter to Ethan, smiling to let him know I’m not serious.

“I like this. They keep you on your toes,” teases Ethan, poking me.

We leave our bags in my room and head back downstairs where everyone’s settled into the living room to catch the last hockey game before the Christmas break.

“How much do you know about hockey?” I ask Ethan, nudging him and glancing at the TV.

“Not much,” he admits.

Mom swivels her head to face us. “That needs to change!”

Ethan chuckles and we sit down on a loveseat just in time for the puck drop. It’s a tight fit, but Ethan and I have been closer. Even so, I’m sure it looks almost comical because Sofia snickers at us once she joins the watch party. I don’t care. I’m home for the holidays, I’m eating more cookies than I should an hour before dinner, and Ethan’s right next to me. Life can’t get better than this.

Christmas Eve comes, and my parents revel in making Ethan try every family recipe. He doesn’t mind, though, which endears him to them even more. Sofia tells Ethan all the cringy things I did as a kid, which is embarrassing enough, but then she adds Ethan on Instagram and makes him promise to update her with so-called noteworthy things that I do as an adult .

To my horror, he agrees and winks at me, and I groan.

The entire family somehow finds my despair to be hilarious, and that kick-starts our night. The next thing I know, I’m waking up next to Ethan in my childhood bedroom, my arm slung over his shoulders and breathing into his hair.

“Ethan! It’s Christmas!” I whisper, waking him up.

“Morning,” he says, his eyes hooded with sleep. It’s been six months since coming to terms with being bi, and I still can’t get over how freaking adorable Ethan is when he’s sleepy. I want to cuddle him forever. Not today, though, because we have other things to do.

“Let’s exchange a present now, when it’s just the two of us,” I suggest.

Ethan’s eyebrows shoot up. “What, did you get me something you don’t want your family to see? Like a dildo?”

I stifle a laugh to avoid waking up the entire house, and I choose to punch Ethan’s chest instead, my fist making an audible thwack against his hard pec. “Such a dirty mind, Ethan. Besides, if I got you a dildo, I’d just include it with the rest of my gifts to you.”

That probably wasn’t the best joke to make because Ethan wrestles me and makes me promise to never make him unwrap a sex toy in front of anyone, ever. I squirm out of his grasp and roll onto the floor, ending up next to my bag. As a peace offering, I choose a present, then meet Ethan back on the bed. Still chucking, Ethan reaches down and grabs an impeccably wrapped gift.

“You go first,” he prompts, gesturing at the soft, paper-covered mound in front of me.

“Nah, we should go at the same time.”

Ethan agrees, and I gently tear open his gift to me and slip the contents out of the paper.

My face freezes.

It’s a sweater. A super fucking gorgeous sweater. It’s an amazing shade of ocean blue, the same color as the sea off the coast of Ethan’s hometown.

And it’s almost identical to the one that I got for him. Other than the color, it’s the exact same, down to the pattern, the zipper, and the collar.

Ethan and I take in each other’s gifts and then burst into laughter.

“Holy shit,” Ethan sputters. “I bought you that in Maine . Where’d you get mine?”

“Here! In Toronto! Why are they the same?”

Ethan glances up at me, grinning and with tears of laughter that make his eyes shiny. “Wear it, I want to see how you look.”

I do, and Ethan slips his sweater on at the same time. He takes me by the wrist and guides me to the mirror outside my closet.

We’re matching. Big-time.

“I’m you, but wearing green,” mutters Ethan, suppressing a giggle.

“That’s it. We gotta wear these all day.”

Ethan scoffs. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I hear heavy footsteps making their way along the hallway and down the stairs. We probably woke them up with our commotion.

“Let’s help get breakfast ready,” I suggest, guiding Ethan toward the door with my palm. He nods, and we head downstairs where Dad and Sofia are lazily serving themselves coffee. They both do a double take once we round the corner into the kitchen.

“Did you boys coordinate Christmas sweaters?” Dad asks, eying us with mock suspicion. Sofia tries to tamp down a peal of giggles by taking sips of coffee, but she fails and has to put her mug down.

“No,” Ethan replies. “I bought James’s sweater in Maine, and he got mine here.”

“The brands are different and everything,” I add.

“But they just so happen to look the same, even though you didn’t coordinate them?” Sofia muses. “You guys are so in love it’s sickening.”

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not. Maybe I’ve spent too long outside Canada.”

“Merry Christmas, by the way,” says Ethan, and we’re all reminded of what day it is.

Christmas Day is low-key, as usual. My family is almost always loud and outgoing, but for some reason, that doesn’t extend to holidays. It might be because we collectively decide to recharge before foisting our merry personalities upon the world for the remainder of the year.

The next few days are more of the same. It’s always snowing outside, and I spend most of my time on the couch or in the kitchen, inadvertently joined at the hip to Ethan.

One of the days, I decide to take Ethan out to a rink so I can fulfill my Canadian duty and teach him how to ice skate. Because Ethan is Ethan, he pretends to shake and be nervous before chasing me around the ice at high speed, both of us pelting each other with snowballs and getting red in the face from being cold and excited.

Ethan makes sure I never forget that Americans can skate, too, especially if they’re from the Northeast. Getting a snowball lovingly shoved down the back of your shirt sears something into your mind forever.

Later, I’m dramatically sulking next to the fireplace, staring into the snapping flames, when I see movement next to me. Ethan’s wearing an apologetic smile and that green sweater I gave him that makes his eyes shine. He’s also holding two mugs. He hands me one, and it’s full of hot chocolate.

I take a sip. “I kinda forgive you, but that’s only because I love you,” I mutter, pretending to be angry.

“That’s your fault for underestimating me,” he says, planting a kiss on my head that makes my heart melt faster than the foam in my mug. I smirk as he sits next to me, letting him know that I’m not mad, and I lean in for a kiss. It tastes like chocolate and Ethan. Two of my favorites.

Ethan pulls back right as my phone beeps, and I lean over to check it.

“We’ve been invited to a New Year’s Eve party. Tonight. I forgot that it’s the 31st today,” I say.

Ethan puts his mug down. “Oh, that sounds fun. Who’s throwing it?”

“Luke, one of my close friends from high school.”

Ethan’s mouth twists into a knowing smile. “Is that the friend who you tormented with your excessive flirting?”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I groan. “Yes, that’s the guy. And no, you’re the only guy I’m gonna flirt with. Don’t you worry.”

“I know,” replies Ethan, grinning. “You won’t flirt with him. You’ll just be very friendly and kiss his forehead and snuggle him in his bed. Totally platonic, no homo at all.”

My fist closes around a couch cushion, ready to lob it right at Ethan before I decide against it. I’d risk spilling hot chocolate, and that would be a massive waste.

Instead, I sigh. “I know better now, and I won’t do anything with anyone that can be misconstrued as flirting,” I say, sarcasm seeping through every word.

Ethan and I step into the warm entryway of Luke’s apartment building, breathing in the vanilla and cinnamon-fragranced air of the lobby. I buzz Luke’s unit on the access console, and the sliding doors open to let us up to unit 2307. When we arrive, I knock twice, and the door swings open to reveal a half-drunk Luke Tremblay, a mug of spiced wine in his left hand.

“Yo, it’s James!” Luke exclaims, giving me and Ethan fist bumps before stepping aside.

We enter Luke’s apartment, and I introduce Ethan. They hit it off well, and the three of us are chatting and having fun like we’ve all known each other for ages.

“Okay, so, we’ve got loose plans to head to a bar on King Street for the countdown,” Luke says while backing into the kitchen. “I’m gonna get some more drinks, but you guys make yourselves at home.”

I go to wash my hands in the hallway bathroom and when I emerge, I realize that one of Luke’s university friends recognized Ethan. The two of them are talking baseball, so I decide to put my beer in the fridge. When I get to the kitchen, I run into Luke, who’s stirring the pot of spiced wine on the stove.

What Sofia mentioned the other day has been itching at the back of my mind, and I need to say something.

“Yo, Luke.”

“What’s up, man?”

I take a breath. “Um, Sofia and I talked a few days ago and I owe you an apology.”

“Apology? What for?” Luke asks, genuinely confused.

“For flirting with you way too hard in high school. Apparently, I didn’t realize that it could give you the wrong idea.”

Luke starts laughing and cracks a beer open. “Dude, it’s all good. Yeah, I was confused and shit for a while, but there’s nothing to say sorry for.”

I nervously scratch the back of my head. “To tell you the truth, I did the same thing with Ethan, and look at us now.”

“Dude, that’s funny as fuck. Who would have thought?”

“Not me. I’m clearly not the most observant person.”

Luke opens another two beers and hands them to me. “At least he feels the same way. You’re one of my boys, and I can’t think of you like that.”

Time to lighten the mood a bit. “Makes sense. Also, your athlete kink only includes hockey players, right? Baseball isn’t really your thing,” I tease.

Luke sputters. “Okay, Jamesey-boy. First of all, I don’t have an athlete kink. Second, hockey players are a lot to deal with, trust me.”

“Are you speaking from experience or something?” I ask, raising an eyebrow over a sip of my beer.

Luke glances to the side momentarily, running a hand through his black hair to move a strand out of his eyes. He clears his throat. “There are a lot of moving parts and I’ll circle back once I have better line of sight.”

I scoff. “Okay, bro, I get it. You work in finance. There’s no need to jargon-dump on me.” I can tell there’s something more behind Luke’s nauseating corporate-speak, but I’m not going to prod. Instead, just chirp him because he’s my friend, and that’s what friends do.

Lacking an appropriately witty reply, Luke simply gestures at the two beers I’m holding. “Go take these to your man,” he orders. I comply, and the night gets started.

A couple hours later, our group’s tentative plans to go out are fading fast. Luke’s university friends have sprawled out all over his living room floor, playing some kind of game on the gaming console. Out of everyone here, Ethan, Luke, and I are the only ones who might be able to stand upright for more than thirty seconds. That’s way too much work though, so we’re lying on Luke’s couch, Ethan’s head in my lap.

“This kinda got out of hand, didn’t it?” Luke says, downing the rest of his beer.

“Nah,” I slur. “This is fun. Thanks for hosting.”

Ethan concurs, his eyes closed. “Thanshf.”

One of the floor-sitters, Stefano, suddenly looks at his phone and waves his hands desperately. “Guys! Wehotahurnthishzofandpzakundanon!”

“Say again?” Luke asks, narrowing his eyes in confusion.

Stefano clasps his hands and takes a deep breath while pointing at the TV. “We need to turn this off and put the countdown on.”

I check my phone. It’s 11:57 p.m.

Luke springs into action, flipping the TV to a live stream and then fetching a case of champagne that was chilling on his balcony. And it’s actual champagne. From France.

“I got this from work after the office party got shut down,” he says, procuring some glasses from his bar cart.

Stefano and the other guys manage to stand up and compose themselves, while Ethan sidles up next to me, slinging an arm around my shoulder. We watch the TV intently like it’s an oracle, and then the countdown begins.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

I hear corks pop as I rise on my toes to brush my lips against Ethan’s, his strong arms pulling me tightly against him. The loud, drunken background noise fades into nothing, and I’m consumed by the intensity of the moment as everything else falls away. Right now, it’s only us two.

Ethan tilts my head up and stares at me with his gorgeous eyes, smiling wide.

“Happy New Year, James.”

“Happy New Year.”

I hug Ethan a little tighter, and my head slides under his chin, fitting perfectly like a lock in a key. No matter where our careers take us, we belong together, and Ethan thinks the same.

Whatever happens next, we’ve got this. After all, if it wasn’t meant to be, it wouldn’t feel so right.