Page 52 of His Every Move

“Bathroom?” I asked as I shot up to my feet.

“First door on your left,” Benji answered me with clear concern written all over his face.

I bolted in the direction he pointed me to. I barreled into the bathroom, yanked open the toilet, dropped to my knees with a crack against the bathroom floor, and threw up everything in my stomach. Tears slid down my cheeks. The porcelain was cold and smooth against my hands. I heard footsteps behind me and considered closing the door, but Benji stepped inside before I could.

“I’m good,” I said, clearly sounding

He crouched down next to me and started to rub my back. It was equal parts comforting and embarrassing.

“Sorry,” I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my forearm. I avoided Benji’s gaze as I stood and moved to the sink. “Mind if I borrow some mouthwash?”

“Not at all,” he said. He leaned against the doorframe, head turned down toward his feet. “And please don’t feel guilty about any of this. This is far,far, out of your control.”

“Is it, though? I’ve been such an irresponsible fuck. I put everyone—including you—in danger at that theater tonight. I should have known better. I thought…”

I thought since I was with you, I’d be safe.

“You can’t lock yourself up in your bedroom and stop living your life because of this sicko.”

“I just feel so fucking helpless. And scared. And so fucked. This person basically has a tracker on me, and I have no idea—Damon. Damon was at the theater… I think it was him, at least. The flashing lights kind of threw me off.”

“Damon is that other performer, correct?”

“Yeah, he’s usually on cam whenever I’m on. I don’t pay attention to the rankings or anything, but I know he does. He’s messaged me before about how jealous he is that I always pull in the most viewers.”

I turned to face Benji. He had his arms crossed as he chewed on his bottom lip. “What do you say we pour another glass of wine and put on our investigative caps tonight? Would that help?”

“You mean work together?” I asked, a flicker of hope breaking through the cloud of fear and nausea that still clung to me.

“Yeah,” Benji said softly. “Let’s figure out who this asshole really is. We’ll put all the clues together and get a clearer picture. You don’t have to do this alone, Eli.”

My heart jerked. I knew he meant that. He wasn’t just saying it to be comforting or polite. Benji genuinely wanted to help me. It made my chest feel too tight, and I realized it wasn’t fear or anxiety. It was the warm, overwhelming feeling of being cared for.

“Okay.” I nodded, my voice steadier now. “Let’s open that wine and get to work, Detective.”

Benji’s lips curved into a faint smile. “I like the sound of that.”

We exited the bathroom and went back into the living room. He poured us each a fresh glass of wine, and we settled onto the couch, Lucky curled up on the soft rug beneath our feet. I took a long sip of my drink, letting the alcohol settle in my system and chase away the lingering dread. It was a tasty pinot grigio, crisp and slightly fruity. It mingled with the mint left over from the mouthwash.

“So,” Benji said, propping his laptop on his knees. “Let’s start with what we know. You think Damon might have been at the theater tonight?”

I nodded. “I can’t be sure, but I swear I saw him. He was in the crowd, and then he disappeared when everything went to shit.”

“Has he ever threatened you before? Or crossed any serious lines?”

“No direct threats,” I said, chewing on my lip. “But he’s made it pretty clear he resents me. He’ll send these passive-aggressive messages or leave comments on my streams like ‘Some of us have to work twice as hard for half the attention.’ Stuff like that. I always just ignored it.”

Benji’s fingers flew across the keyboard as he pulled up Damon’s social media profiles and linked accounts. “I’ve already dug around for info about him, but it never hurts to search again… Looks like he’s pretty active in a few performer forums.”

I leaned closer, our shoulders pressing together as I skimmed through the posts. “Yeah. This is one of the main places we all network and talk business things. I’ve seen him on here a lot.”

Benji clicked on one thread that Damon had started. The subject line read: When Some People Get All the Luck. It was a long, bitter rant about how “certain cam boys” were only successful because they got lucky or sold out. The responses were all telling him that his turn would come, that he just had to put in the work to attract viewers, that he couldn’t compare himself to others.

“Jesus,” I muttered. “He was really spiraling, huh?”

Benji scrolled down to a comment from Damon: It makes me sick. Some people don’t deserve the success they get. I’d do anything to take them down a level.

“Could be nothing,” Benji said, frowning. “But that’s a hell of a lot of anger.”

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