Page 42 of Candy Hearts
Fuck. Now Benji was writing poetry in his head over William O’Dare.
“Need coffee. And to charge my phone. Can we take your car to Starbucks?” Benji asked, interrupting the moment.
William laughed. “We can drive to the gas station, get to really experience all that the Kum & Go has to offer: pizza, brownie, coffee. You can charge your phone in my car.”
“The gas station is not called Kum & Go.”
“It is, and it’s spelled K-U-M.”
“Shut up!”
“Okay.”
“No, don’t actually shut up. I like your voice,” Benji said.
William let loose a shy, happy grin. Benji watched the sunrise in William’s eyes—the light reflecting off the lenses of his glasses and the sun a spark in his dark pupils.
The last day had presented so many things Benji had never done before: watched a sunrise with a lover, fucked on a bed of flower petals, made love in candlelight. It was a Valentine’s Day crash course. Maybe that was why this was so intense between them. They’d been dressing it up with romantic fixings, like an amorous baked potato. But what if all they had was butter and chives? Would this be jumbling Benji’s brain if they hadn’t been pretending to be valentines? Would he feel like he was very quickly falling for this man if they didn’t have these accouterments screamingromance me, bitch?
What would happen when it was just Benji and William—no rose petals, no candlelight, no winter sunrise? Just them. Would Benji still have this weird unnamable energy pinging around his stomach?
William scooted a bit closer, eliminating the space between their hips and shoulders. Then, with their backs to the lake house, William took Benji’s hand in his, sending a zing up Benji’s arm. William studied Benji’s fingers for long seconds, examining each knuckle and nail like it was special.
Holding hands was such a sweet way to start a morning. Second only to frotting. William’s thumb swept up the back of Benji’s hand and over his knuckles. Their fingers were cold but quickly warmed from touching. Everything felt exaggerated to Benji, like he could discern each ridge and bump and groove of William’s thumbprint as if it were etched into his own skin. He wanted that thumb on his Adam’s apple, on his cheek, holding him steady and secure.
“You know,rutandgrooveare synonyms,” Benji said into the charged silence between them.
William’s lips tipped into that shiny, crooked smile. “I did know that.”
“But if I said that I was ‘in a rut,’ that would be the exact opposite meaning of ‘in a groove.’”
Benji wasn’t sure why this point was so essential to make, but he liked the way his words lit up William’s face.
“I’d never thought of that.”
“Maybe you’re not as smart as me,” Benji said with a bit of a lilt.
“Probably true. I’m tired of being in a rut. Ready to get in a groove instead.”
“Me too. Exactly.”
William lifted his thumb to Benji’s chin. Gah, this was all … a lot. He was feeling … a lot.
“Benji?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t want this to be fake. It’s not fake to me.”
Benji’s heart slammed an uneven tattoo in his chest. He didn’t want it to be fake either. He was tired of that excuse. He liked William. He really liked William, but it was scary.
“Cool. I agree.” Benji had no idea what admitting that meant. Did this make them not-fake valentines? Benji stood abruptly. “Coffee. Phone.”
William peered up at him, looking (again!) like a model for WASPy pajamas, sitting temptingly on a wooden dock in the thin light of dawn.
Motherfucker.
He didn’t wait to see if William followed him back into the house. William did.
