Page 12 of Benji

“I know,” Fitch said. “Just keep a low profile.”

Benji nodded. “I will.”

“Oh,” Fitch said, opening the backpack and dumping the contents onto the sofa between them. “I got your essentials. Everything you’ll need for a week.”

There were a few things: a notebook, his old broken-looking phone charger, some old hand-held game console, three boxes of condoms, lube, and a box of PrEP.

Oh, dear god.

“Jesus,” Benji said, shoving them back into the backpack. “Essentials my arse.”

“Exactly. Essentials for your arse. I know you, Benj. You’ll be climbing the walls soon. And Nolan’s a top. I already scoped him out for you.”

Benji looked at him, horrified, and I barely managed to put my hand out in a defensive manner, shaking my head, but before I could speak, Fitch kissed Benji’s hair. “Oh, that shampoo smells so good. Goddammit, sure you don’t want to swap places with me?”

Then, before anyone could say anything else, Fitch laughed, waved a cheery hand at us, and was gone.

Benji sighed. “I’m sorry about all that.”

I tried to appear unruffled. “It’s fine. I like him. He has a certain... charm.”

Benji looked at me and chuckled through another sigh. “He does, yes. The kind of charm you can’t help but like, as much as you try not to.”

That made me smile. “He’s a very good friend.”

“He is.” Benji met my eyes. “Thank you, for everything. For what you bought for me. Or, I should say, what Fitch made you buy for me.”

“Think nothing of it,” I said. “Are you feeling better after your shower?”

He nodded. “Much. My back is still a little sore. It’s just a twinge though. Muscular, that’s all. It’ll be fine in a day or so.”

Not if he slept on the couch . . .

“Uh, this is...” I cringed. “This is going to sound bad, please don’t misunderstand. But you should probably sleep in my bed.” His gaze cut to mine, so I quickly added, “There’s a TV in there, you’ll be more comfortable. The mattress is one of those Posturepedic ones. It’ll be better than the couch.”

“This couch is a hundred times better than my bed,” he replied.

“And I’ve slept on that couch more times than I’d like to admit. It’s fine,” I allowed. “But if your back is sore, the bed is better. I can take the couch for a night or two. I didn’t mean to imply anything.”

He laughed. “I didn’t think you were implying anything.”

“Well, the offer is there,” I said, then realised how that sounded. “For the bed, not the offer for implying anything...” I shook my head. “God, I’m sorry.”

He laughed again, his whole face lighting up. He looked younger and carefree when he laughed, when his dark eyes lit up, shining like his beautiful black curls.

I had to wonder how he’d got to this point in his life. What led him to be a rent boy, as Fitch had called themselves. I doubted it would be a happy story and that made me sad for him.

This bright and beautiful boy should be living his best life, not as a sex worker and hiding away in a stranger’s apartment for safety reasons.

And given he was staying with me for a week, I figured some general conversation and basic information wouldn’t go astray.

“So,” I began. “How old are you, Benji?”

“Twenty-one.”

“I’m thirty-six,” I volunteered.

“And you said you can’t be involved in anything illegal,” Benji said. “This place is far too nice for you to be a cop, so I’m going with something professional. And you did tend to my cut, and you seem more concerned about my well-being than most, so maybe something medical?”

---