Page 20 of Bold

“That man needs a good woman in his life, Noah. He’d be the perfect boyfriend for the right girl. Hell, he treated the completely wrong girls of his past like queens. Imagine how he’d spoil a nice girl like you.”

“Wrong girls?” What was it I said about gossip earlier? I seem to have forgotten.

“Yeah, he has a history with girls who sucked him dry. His picker is certainly off.”

“So . . .” I pause, wanting but not wanting to ask the question. “He’s not with Sunday?” My curiosity wins out.

“Girl, is that what you thought? Why the hell would I be telling you to go after my friend’s man? No, they aren’t together. No way! In fact, Sunday’s been calling me nonstop since she found out you were my roommate to try to see if I knew whether you were into him or not.”

Relief. I’m not caught in a strange love triangle between my bosses.

“I wrote to Anderson Cooper about the chemtrails I’ve been seeing in our neighborhood, but he didn’t bring it up on his show. It’s really important. They have to be stopped.”

Madison and I both turn to look at Benson, but his eyes are fixed on the television. I look to Madison, who just shrugs.

“Maybe it’s the Russians,” Madison pokes.

“Please, don’t bring them up. I know you’re only teasing, but that’s a whole different kettle of fish,” Benson explains.

“Kettle of fish?” I ask. Of course I do.

“It’s something my dad always says. He likes to fish.”

“How can you watch so much Bravo, Benson?” Madison, who’s completely unaffected by Benson’s tiny rant, is staring at the television with a clear look of confusion on her face.

“How could you not? Those housewives are out of control. Don’t even get me started on Vanderpump Rules. Those guys are my favorite. Jax is so stupid. I love it.” Benson gets all excited as he speaks.

Housewives? Is this a television show?

“Your reality-television obsession is out of control,” Madison tells him. “Please, let’s not talk about this for another minute. It’s bad enough that I can’t take my eyes off those big statement necklaces they all wear.”

“But you asked.” Now, it’s Benson’s turn to look confused.

“You both are nuts,” I tell them.

“You could have done a lot worse in the roommate department.” Madison crosses her legs and turns from the show. “Admit it!” She tosses the pillow I threw at her earlier back my way.

“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.” I roll my eyes, pretending to be annoyed. “Benson, are you happy yet about me being here?”

“Yeah, as long as you believe me when I say the Illuminati is real. The New World Order is out there and extremely scary. We can’t let them attain their goals.”

Benson has the wrong girl. I have no idea what in the world anything he’s brought up in the last fifteen minutes even is. Anderson Cooper, Bravo, Housewives, whatever phrase that was Benson said about fish, Vanderpumps, and Illuminatinever made it within the walls of Golden Heights. Still …

“I’m on your side, Benson,” I pledge my very blind loyalty.

“Good, as you should be.” He nods admittedly.

“Guys”—I hesitate—“do I stick out like a sore thumb? Give me the honest truth.”

“What do you mean?” Madison asks.

“I’m a little younger than you two. I don’t know a lot about pop culture. I’ve never had a drink. I could keep going. I don’t know. Sometimes, it just feels like I don’t fit in anywhere.” I mindlessly rub my forearm, feeling uneasy.

“You fit in right here. Who cares that you have no idea who Benson is following on Instagram? In fact, I like that about you.”

I add Instagram to my list of things I don’t know about and turn to Benson. “You’re a man. How do you see me?” I think I’m totally barking up the wrong tree, but I need some feedback.

“Noah, I’m gay. I’m not the one to ask about men’s perception of you.”

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