Page 8 of When Ben Loved Tim

I wince, expecting to hear a barrage of insults. Instead the swearing continues, seemingly without direction.

“Shit, shit, shit! Aw man… Damn it!”

I scramble onto my hands and knees, so I can see what became of him. A slope on one side of the paved path leads down to a narrow drainage ditch. Tim is near the bottom, rocking back and forth on his butt while holding one of his legs aloft.

“Sorry!” I cry. “Wait right there. I’ll help you!”

I manage to stand but my skates slip on the grass and I lose my balance. I slide down the slope until I end up on my back next to him.

“My hero,” Tim grumbles, his eyes widening as I take off the bike helmet that makes me look like a mushroom, but I figure it’s better than turning myself into Bryce by accident. “Holy shit!” he says in shock. “You’re the gay stalker!”

My mouth falls open. “The what?”

“Nothing,” Tim says with a shake of his head. “I mean the night stalker.”

That’s not much better, but I don’t get the chance to tell him, because he winces in pain and groans. I notice the blood dripping down the leg he’s still gripping. How did he get so hurt? We both fell on soft grass. Unless a bone snapped on his way down and pushed through his skin.

“Did you break something?” I ask.

“Huh-uh,” Tim says. “Feels more like a sprain.”

“With that much blood?”

He seems to notice something. I follow his gaze to a jagged rock sticking out of the grass.

“Oh,” I say with a guilty swallow.

“It’s just a scrape. I’ll be fine.”

I watch him lower the leg experimentally, but as soon as his heel touches the ground, he lifts it back up again with a grimace. I’m making the same face in sympathy.

“Hold on,” I say, pulling at the straps of my Rollerblades. “I’ll help you up.”

“You’re the one who did this to me!” he shoots back.

“Yeah,” I say sheepishly as I unshoulder my backpack to get at my shoes, “but that was an accident.”

Tim’s brow furrows up. “It sure didn’t look that way to me!”

And he sure looks handsome, even when wearing an incredulous expression. “Umm….” I say in my own defense. Smooth as always!

Tim has gone back to testing his leg anyway. I get my shoes on and hang my skates off my backpack, serenaded the entire time by whimpers of pain. “Maybe we should call an ambulance,” I suggest.

“No!’ Tim says with intense reluctance. “I’m fine! Just…” He hooks one of his arms, like he has it around an invisible man. That’s where I’m supposed to go. I’m staring at the empty space when he holds out his hand. “Help me up.”

I swallow, my own hand trembling slightly as I reach for his. His palm is soft when it slides across mine, but his grip is strong as he begins shifting his weight. I lean back, using leverage to pull him to his feet and imagine what would happen if I yanked so hard that he tumbled into my arms. I’m brought back to reality when Tim shakes off my hand and slings an arm around my shoulders.

“Just get me back to the path,” he says. “I’ll be all right.”

Except it isn’t that easy because he can only use one leg and has to hop up the slope, even with me supporting him. The first time he starts to slip, I wrap my arm around his torso, my hand ending up on his stomach, but thankfully I don’t lose myself in another fantasy. After a struggle, and more swearing from Tim, we make it back to level ground.

“You can let go of me now,” he says pointedly.

“I don’t think I can,” I tell him, and I mean it. I’m not trying to be a creep. “Your house isn’t far away if we cut across the park, but you can’t hop there on your own.”

Tim is looking at me funny. Oh. Right. I don’t have a good excuse for knowing where he lives. All I can do is offer an encouraging smile. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Tim murmurs. “Straight to the cops.”