I normally give about two seconds thought to what I'm going to wear. Plus! With the heat here, it's basically shorts and whatever t-shirt I pull out of the stack. But this morning feels different. It feels like a date, but it most definitely cannot be one. I grab a dodgers shirt and loose basketball shorts in case anything pops up.
It's already crazy hot by 9 AM when I open the front door to find Tank looking cute in a tight blue compression shirt that hugged his developing chest and a blue BYU baseball cap. He was definitely set on that college.
"You ready to go down in flames, boy-eee?" Tank comes out with this deep and creepy voice. He sneers at me and tips his baseball cap as if to say I've been warned. It's kinda hot, but I burst out laughing and his persona breaks.
"C'mon, Hayden! I'm trying to psyche you out! You weren't supposed to laugh!" Tank whines.
"It's just... Do you even get how cute you are?" I ask and instantly regret my words. Tank blushes and kicks at the stone entryway of our humble townhome.
"I do. I try to only use my power for good though. I will not let this beauty ruin my caring heart!" Tank put the back of his hand to his forehead like he's feeling faint from the struggle.
I just grin. I know it's useless to fight this. He's too cute to fight it.
"We better get going. I reserved a cage for us and they start the hour whether you're there or not!" Tank has this down to a science.
He races down Baseline then makes the turn light at Val Vista. We get a tour of more creamsicle dotted neighborhoods. It's like an ice cream truck bomb landed on this city and spewed peach stucco over everything.
The batting place is tucked away in the back of a recreation center near a deserted playground. He raced here but there are only two other cars in the lot.
"Looks busy. I hope they have enough balls!" I point towards the wide open lot.
"Players get lazy in the summer. It's easy to take off when it's this hot, but when you want to be good at something you have to put in the work." Tank says this like he's heard it from his parents a million times.
We start to get out but then he reaches over the gear shifter and puts his hand on mine. It warms me from the inside and I pause for a minute to soak it in. I look over and his big green eyes are drinking me in. My heart begins to pound and I can feel my shorts start to tent. I pulled away from him. This was not a date.
"Hayden," Tank starts, but I'm already out of his car.
"Let's do this!" I yell and sprint up towards the batting place. Tank grabs his bag and follows me. I don't look back to check on him. He has a season pass to this place and the old guy working the booth knows him. We head into the cage on the far end. There's only one other kid there, two cages down.
It's already hot out and there isn't much shade, but Tank sets up the cage like a pro. He brought several bats and he picks them up and weighs them as if he hasn't seen them before.
"This should be best for you. Not too heavy, is it?" he asks. He hands me the bat and then goes to check the pitching machine. I have no idea what weight a bat should be, but I tell him it's great. He lets me go first. I take my stance over the center base and he turns the machine on.
There's a little beep before it sends a ball hurtling towards me. I'd been to a batting cage before, but it was years ago with my dad. I square up and take a swing. I hit the first ball and get an appreciative nod from Tank who's watching from near the pitch.
"Good, good. Ease up on your stance. Not so tight," he coaches and instantly it makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong.
The second ball comes out and I swing but miss it. Tank squats down and studies me. He's so focused and it distracts me. The third ball comes out and I miss it entirely, not even close.
"Dude. That was an easy one!" he laughs.
"It was too easy. I didn't trust it," I joke, but he doesn't laugh. Baseball is serious business.
"You're way too tight. It's a ball, not a missile! Lemme show you," Tank runs over and dodges the fourth ball.
"I got it!" I try to waive him off. I miss the fourth ball completely, and before I can protest much he's right up behind me.
"Ease this up. You're not posing for prom," he notes and grabs my right thigh to pull my stance wider. His touch is dangerously close to the zone I am trying to avoid thinking with.
"Woah," I jump back a little and land against his chest. He pushes right up behind me and his arms are over mine. He's smaller than me, but he more than adequately envelopes me in his hold. His hands come up to cover where I'm gripping the bat.
The fifth ball sails out and he pulls my arms back and takes a perfect swing at it. It makes a satisfying crack against the bat and hits the cage just above the pitch.
"Perfect! See that? Hack yah!" Tank glows with mormon curse words.
"Hey I got a point!" I nod up to the scoreboard.
"Again!" he says as the sixth ball hurtles towards us. We get through the first ten balls like that. He keeps a tight grip on me and we're sweating under the morning sun. He's pushing against me and it makes my body react in ways that shouldn't happen in a public place. He's completely focused on showing me the right stance and unaware of what he's doing to me.
"This feels weird. I'm the one who should be holding you." I shift uncomfortably in his arms.
"Then you shouldn't be the one who sucks at batting," he jokes and tightens his grip. The balls keep coming and Tank keeps puppetting me through it.
"Your turn," I say when we finish the first round. There's a bench off to the side and I dive for it and cover my lap. He looks at me weirdly but then refills the machine and goes through a perfect routine. He hits every ball and the scoreboard rejoices with a happy ding when he hits twenty.
"You demolished me! Six feet under!" I laugh as Tank hits the last ball. He turns to me like he's been in another world. His lips crack into a smile and his chest puffs up.
"You'll get there, Hayden. Just practice. Let's take a break, yeah? I want nachos!" He puts his bats away and I help him collect the balls in a wire basket.
We get to the concession stand near the playground and there's a few kids ahead of us ordering icees. I would kill for one right now, but I quickly scan the price board to see what I can afford. The five bucks I had in my wallet yesterday now has an additional five since mom gave me some lunch money this morning.
"I got this," Tank says when I pull out my wallet.
"No! You got the cage!" I protest with confidence. Things aren't too expensive here.
"My dad gave me some extra money to get lunch!" He fires back with a tone that sounds as if he's talking to a sick kid. Make-a-wish Hayden is not who I want to be to him.
"I got it," I say with maybe a little too much force. He shrinks back and nods.
We get to the front and I order us a big nacho. It's a plastic tub of round yellow chips with a big splash of orange cheese and jalapenos on top. It's 5 dollars, but then the guy asks what drinks we want.
"Ooh Cherry icee!" Tank looks at me as if it's too much. It's 3 bucks and I can't say no to that smile. I nod.
"And for you?" the guy asks me. I total up in my head to 8 bucks which means no icee for me. I settle on a bottle of water and Tank looks at me with guilt. I don't want this to be a thing and it feels like it's becoming a thing.
"Too much sugar for this heat," I reason. Tank nods and his happy smile returns.
We take our big nacho across to an area between two ponds where there are big red clay rocks between the desert gravel. It's shaded by big palo verdes. It's quiet except for the bubbling sound of the waterfall brook that connects the lakes.
"These are spicy. You want them?" Tank uses a chip to push the jalapenos to one side as we settle into our rocky top picnic. I nod and take a chip stacked with the green devils.
We're both sweaty and gross, but sitting beside him on a sun-baked rock with only a flimsy plastic container separating us feels really good. He tells me about all the times his dad has brought him here and points out the children's train he loved riding when he was younger.
"So Thursday you're on stage!" he says as if suddenly remembering this fact.
"Performing? Oh! I dunno. It'll be all mormon kids, right? What if they aren't into my music," I ask. What I'm really thinking about is the fact that I haven't picked up my guitar since this whole nightmare started. Performing for Tank was not going to go well.
"You'll be great! They are so supportive and most of the talent is pure tragedy. The girl doing poetry before you is always really weepy. They'll be happy for anything that follows her!" He picks up a chip and shoves it into his mouth. It leaves a smear of cheese on his cheek that I fight the urge to lick.
"How many songs do I do? What do I sing? I haven't performed in months!" I take another chip.
"Whatever you want. It'll be great! You can practice on me!" he shrugs and eats another chip.
"I don't know, Tank." The thought of playing in front of strangers isn't nearly as terrifying as doing it in front of him. I go for another chip but then feel his hand on my wrist.
"Hey, no! What do you think you're doing?" He sounds angry but he's smiling at me.
"Getting a chip?" I ask like maybe this is a crime in Arizona.
"That's the King chip! It's the one with the most cheese! Look how beautiful it is! You don't just claim King chip without discussing it first. What kind of animal are you?" he laughs.
"You don't think I deserve King chip? I'm not King chip-worthy?" I like when he gets playful.
"I don't know! It's not something you rush into and decide on the fly." He spreads his hands in front of his chest like this is a life changing matter.
"You're silly," I tell him.
"I've got all the sills!" He laughs like it's a real thing.
"Fine. You take it. You earned it for that King chip-level coaching," I suggest.
"I did do a great job." He leans back and looks up for a minute as if thinking it over. He raises a finger and does some math calculations in the air then licks it and holds it up as if testing the wind. He cocks his head to the side as if double-checking his results.
"I will accept this honor," he says finally. He reaches for the chip and picks it up, careful not to lose any of the golden ooze.
"You are a true hero," I start to say but before I can close my mouth he shoves the chip in my face. The chip is limp from its heavy, wet cargo. It fold in half and smears cheese all over my lips and nose.
"I share this honor with my trusty sidekick!" Tank laughs as cheese drips down my chin.
I immediately grab another adequately cheesed chip and go to return the favor but he is too quick. He grabs my wrist and the chip falls onto his shirt. It lands a big glob of cheese right over his left nipple.
The war is on. He swipes a finger through the cheese and tries to swipe my cheek but I turn my head. My mouth lines up perfectly though and he makes it inside. I feel his cheese-coated finger against my tongue. I don't know why but my lips closed around him and I suck the golden dip from his digit.
He holds like that and our eyes lock. This food fight just got really gay and neither of us are sure what to do next. He takes his finger back and clears his throat but keeps his eyes on mine.
"Hey Tank," a voice calls from beside us and we both turn our heads slowly as if remembering we are in public and people can see us.
"Hey Aaron," Tank calls back feebly. This emo looking guy with cut-off jean shorts and a white tank top is staring at us from six feet away. He has bleached out hair with a streak of blue that matches his eyes. He smiles but it looks more like a smirk.
"Feeding nachos to your baseball buddy?" The kid asks, perfectly summing up what is happening here.
"Yup," Tank swallows and nods as if this is perfectly normal.
"Cool. Can I get one?" he asks. Tank lifts the plastic tray with both hands towards Aaron.
He takes the chip, looking disappointed that Tank isn't going to feed it to him.
"Um, Hayden, this is Aaron from my school. He lives in that peach house right there! Aaron, Hayden, my friend." Tank introduces us while I scramble to wipe my face with a napkin.
"A friend who sucks cheese off your fingers?" Aaron flares a bit of skepticism at us.
"Just goofing around. Where's Braxton?" Tank asks then explains "that's Aaron's boyfriend."
"We're on a break. Are you two...?" Aaron turns his head like there's some interesting gossip here.
"Nope. Not at all. Nope nope." I interject and slide away from Tank.
"Just friends," Tank adds with an icing of hurt. "Hayden's just here for the summer. Our moms are best friends."
"Cool. Laters," he says. He takes another chip then walks off towards the restrooms.
Aaron takes the energy with him and Tank and I just kind of look at each other not sure what to say. I'd tried to wipe all the cheese off my face, but I can feel that I missed some and it's hardening now and this isn't fun anymore and I need to... I stand up.
"Please," Tank says weakly because he knows exactly what I'm thinking.
"I can't say no to you. I really can't," I whisper with sadness. He nods.
Aaron's in the restroom when I go in to wash my face. He zips his pants and joins me at the sinks.
"You guys were getting pretty heavy out there." Aaron notes this like he's only slightly interested. I splash water on my face but don't look at him.
"Tank's not into guys," I tell him.
"And you?" He catches my eye while I'm scrubbing cheese out of my right nostril. His eyes bore into me like he has a strong fetish for nose cheese.
"I'm only into guys," I say. This makes him raise up like he wants to show off his chiseled thin frame.
"Me too. Wanna chill sometime?" Aaron puts his hand on my arm. I laugh and wonder what tank would think about this.
"Sure." I tell him this but then immediately leave the restroom before any information could be exchanged.
Tank is back where I left him only I freeze when I get closer because he's squatting beside the lake with his shirt off. He has his back to me, that pale toned skin stares me down. He has his t-shirt in his hands and is using the lake water to scrub the cheese off. His squat position forces down the back waistband of his white shorts and I can see the very top of his plumbers crack. But he's not a plumber, it is most definitely something I want to see more of.
I watch the muscles in his back work as he scrubs the shirt clean. He stands to lay it out to dry on a rock and then turns to check for me. He stops and gives me this look like I've caught him doing something. Then he notices the big, goofy grin across my lips and he smiles back at me.
His chest is not what I expected. Even with the compression shirt showing his outline, it doesn't capture the perfection that is Tank. His skin is milky white and his pecs are still pretty flat but the hint of definition shows a boy who swings that bat pretty regularly. His abs are etched, not bulging, but toned and cut with good definition.
"Hey!" He calls. He realizes I'm appraising him and he blushes, looks down and then nods his head towards the shirt to tell me this nudity is pure necessity. He's not used to being looked at like that and he shifts uncomfortably. He has a big adam's apple and it moves way up then down again like he's swallowing something unpleasant.
"You want to hit some more?" I ask as I walk towards him.
"Nah. Let's do something indoors," he says. He collects our trash and I grab his bag of baseball gear. He tosses his shirt over his shoulder. We head back to his car. It's over 100 degrees by now. He opens the car doors and a heat ghost flies out of it.
He puts his shirt back on before we get in. The wet spot is nearly dry and the cheese stain is gone. We ride in silence until I finally announce "So Aaron wants to hang out with me!"
"What? No! Dude not Aaron. Just no! He goes hard after any guy who looks at him. You are so much better than that... I mean he's cute. I can't tell you what to do I guess..." Tank looks at me with frustration.
"Just thought it was funny. I'm not into him...He's not your friend, is he? He sure didn't act like it." I shouldn't have said anything about Aaron. It was meant to break the silence, but it ends up making my stomach feel gross. I didn't want to upset him. It doesn't feel good.
"You don't have to date me, but... " He isn't sure how to finish that sentence.
"Don't date anyone else?" I laugh.
"Is that too much to ask?" He looks at me sheepishly. That smile slays me.
"Not at all... And for the record you're the only guy I like... the only one I've ever felt like this before." I admit too much. It relieves the ache in my stomach but builds a separate tension in my chest. He reaches over and puts his hand on mine. He squeezes it.
I don't understand how he makes me feel. Tank is smaller than me, shorter than me, just a few weeks older than me. He makes me feel small though. Maybe small isn't the right word. I feel vulnerable, like I can open up my insides and he is going to protect them. The rules are different with him.
"Me too. I always knew I liked guys, but not this much... I've never felt like I do with you. Why can't we just go for it?" Tank asks like it is a completely plausible and well-thought scenario.
"Sure. Hey Mr. and Mrs. Kempton! I am totally into your good mormon boy. You're cool with that, right? Oh... you aren't cool with that? And my mom and I can't live in your church housing anymore? We have to sleep in our car and go to a shelter? Oh ok, thanks!" I lay things out for him.
"They wouldn't do that! They're nice people. They wouldn't just kick you out like that," Tank defends but he doesn't sound so sure.
"Maybe not, but I don't want to find out. Your parents volunteered when my mom was out of options. They stepped in and gave us a place to live and groceries and the job at the thrift store. You really think it's cool if I move in on their perfect Christian son and ruin him?" I ask.
"I'm not perfect... and this isn't wrong. This doesn't feel wrong at all," he says and squeezes my hand.
He pulls off the road and down the back alley behind a shopping center. It's fresh new pavement sandwiched between the back of an AJ's market and a white stucco wall. It's back where they keep the dumpsters and accept deliveries. He pulls under the shade of a big tree and puts the car in park.
"What are we doing?" I ask.
"I don't know. I've never felt this confused. I've never felt this good either." Tank leans over the center console and I wrap my arms around him. He nuzzles his sharp nose into my shoulder and I inhale the sweat and hint of nacho cheese on his cheek. He slides his arms around my chest and I squeeze him tight.
"Is it this hard for everyone?" Tank's voice cracks like he's fighting tears.
"I hope not!" I laugh. Tank buries his face in my shoulder and he feels so good in my arms. I just want to take him away from here. If we were back in California and my parents were ok, it would be perfectly fine. I'd bring him home and they'd welcome him and make a safe place for us where he wouldn't have to worry about his parents finding out.
But we aren't in California. We're in Arizona and we need to figure out how we're going to survive this.
I want Tank.
Tank wants me.
No one wants that for either of us.