“Shut up,” he said instead.
Daphne blinked rapidly. “Um.”
“Shit. Sorry. Just ignore me.” Benji avoided her eyes as he ducked into the classroom after her, typing out a reply:i’m fine. talk later.
He pressed send, heart racing. He wanted to be angry again. That hot, clean rage he’d felt when he stormed out of Noah’s apartment. But even as he filed into the classroom and sat down in his usual seat with Daphne, he couldn’t deny it: he was more pissed off at himself than at Noah. Noah was right; he should’ve told him. No matter that Noah saw him better than anyone else could—he wasn’t a mind reader.
Still, it didn’t stop a wave of tangled emotions swarming over him as he sat down in the circle of chairs next to Daphne. He held back a hiss as his tender asscheeks settled onto the plastic. It had been a few days, but his ass still hurt. For a moment, the pain was delicious, deep and throbbing, just like the bite marks Noah gave him to hide under his shirts. Then the shame washed in, deep and drowning as he remembered running out of the apartment, face wet, feet still bare. He liked Noah’s little reminders—but not this one. He didn’t need another reminder of the latest addition to Benji fucking his own life up.
Daphne leaned over. Benji covered his phone in a panic, but she just asked, “What’d I miss last week?”
“Other than Dillion being a psychotic little shit? Not much.” Benji twisted to watch the rest of his classmates trickle in. So far, Dillion wasn’t among them.
“No, I mean, did we learn anything?” Daphne picked at a piece of shiny nail polish around her thumb. “I’m so mad I slept through my nap alarm. This is one class I actually trynotto miss.”
“He reminded us about the exhibition hand-in,” Benji said. “And he, uh, he said he liked my stuff.”
Daphne looked up. “He said what?Ben! You know how stingy he is with compliments!”
“It’s not a big deal,” Benji insisted, but it was too late: Daphne was leaning over to hug him, making a delighted noise that sounded not unlike a bird.
“Like hell it isn’t,” she hissed. “I told you those paintings were a good idea! Experimenting with style isalwaysworth it.”
“Get off,” he said, batting half-heartedly at her.
She pecked his cheek and leaned back into her seat just in time for Mr. Jervais to come in, adjusting his ever-present turtleneck.
“Alright, everyone,” he said, not bothering with a greeting. “Grab your paintings from last week. We’re still going.”
Benji eased up out of his seat and headed over to the drying rack. Daphne followed, grabbing a sheet of paper from next to it.
“I bet it was the colorwork,” she whispered as she pulled a new sheet out of the pile. “He’s so good about colors. I wanted to ask him what I should do about my new…”
She trailed off. She was staring at Benji’s painting, frowning.
Benji swallowed. When he put the painting away last week, it had been the first touches of Noah’s tie resting over his nightstand. Soft morning light, crisp black, and buttery browns. Now he couldn’t even see the tie. It was buried under a coat of red, the thick paint taking over half the paper.
“Interesting choice,” Daphne said faintly.
Bitterness crept into his voice as Benji snapped, “It wasn’t a choice, Daph. Obviously, someone wants to fuck with me.”
A throat cleared behind him. Benji whirled, the ruined painting creasing in his grip.
“That doesn’t look like a spill,” Mr. Jervais agreed.
Benji snorted. His painting was four down from the top. To spill this, someone would have had to take it out, splash it, and then slide it carefully back in. He twisted to look around the room: Dillion’s seat was still empty.
Benji let the useless painting drop to his side. “This isn’t going to affect my grade, right? I can do another one. I can start it right now, then come in tomorrow to finish it.”
But Mr. Jervais was already waving him down. “As long as you get it done.”
Benji blinked. He thought he’d have to grovel more.
“Thanks,” he said. He grabbed a new piece of paper and went back to his seat. He was so distracted by his sabotaged painting that he didn’t remember his sore ass until he sat down and the pain bloomed back to life, so deep and hot it made him gasp.
Daphne looked over. “What?”
He shook his head, telling his half-hard cock to calm down. He’d just realized that the first thing he’d wanted to do after discovering Dillion had ruined his painting was to tell Noah about it. He wanted Noah to soothe him. To ask if he was okay. To lay him out and rub the sting away, drown out his whirling head with incandescent pleasure. And all Noah asked for in return was that Benjiopen upto him. Like that wasn’t the most terrifying thing he’d ever said. Noah had been prying him open for months. Wasn’t that enough? Why did Benji have to do it himself?
