“No shit,” Max said. “I know you’re not some evil, scheming grifter pulling the wool over poor Noah’s impressionable billionaire eyes, or whatever they said. Also, BILLIONAIRE? Did not know that. Do you know how much a BILLION is? He could buy you a car this nice every day for the rest of your life and still afford takeout every night!”
He sat back against his seat, some of the shyness creeping back in. “But, um, wasallof it fake? Because it said he bought you this car. I don’t know any bosses who would do that. And he came over every day when you were sick. And youareout a lot. Like, overnight. And I know you’re not at Daphne’s. She posted an Instagram story about going swimming when you said you watched a movie. You guys need to coordinate your stories better.”
“Shit,” Benji muttered. He risked a glance over at Max, expecting more awkward nail-fiddling or even an accusatory glare. But Max was just… watching him. A little confused, but none of the judgment Benji had been expecting.
Benji sucked in a breath, turning the corner that he was pretty sure led back to the hotel. “What if some of it was true?”
“Depends which bit,” Max admitted. “Are you a two-faced con artist ensnaring the heart of a perfectly nice billionaire who cleared a movie theater for me to watch the Robot Smashdown sequel before it came out?”
Benji shoved him. “You know I can’t lie well enough to be a con artist.”
“Well, which part is true?”
“I’m, uh.” Benji braced himself, keeping his eyes on the road. He was glad they were in a car, so he had something to look at. He could never say it while looking him in the face.
“I’m a sugar baby,” he admitted, rushed.
Max was quiet. For about three seconds.
“How is that different to a hooker? Uh, I mean sex worker?”
“There’s more emphasis on dating,” Benji said desperately, trying to remember how Daphne had explained it. “I go to events with him. We talk a lot. It’s kind of like a relationship. But he gives me money.”
He grimaced. Daphne would have explained it better. He felt like he was missing bits. She definitely would have protested the relationship part. She was always adamant that even if she liked her sugar daddies, it was a business transaction at heart. If that was what a sugar baby was, Benji was doing it wrong. Noah, too. Unless all sugar daddies destroyed their brother’s careers for them, and offered their apartment when they got kicked out, and assured them they weren’t going anywhere with a look so intense that Benji was still recovering from it. He didn’t think he ever would.
“Okay,” Max said slowly. “And youreallylike him?”
Benji sighed at the emphasis on “really.” He shuddered to think how Max had seen him while he was sick, all groggy and out of it and probably clinging to Noah like a limpet.
“I do,” he admitted grudgingly.
“Huh,” Max said. Then he smacked Benji in the arm so hard Benji almost swerved the car into the next lane.
“Ow,” Benji yelled. “What the hell?”
“That’s like the perfect situation,” Max yelled. “Why doesn’t everybody do that? Being a sugar baby sounds awesome!”
“You gotta have a certain personality,” Benji hurried to assure him. “Like… charming. Hot. Easygoing.”
Max gave him an incredulous look.
Benji tried not to be offended. It didn’t work.
“That’s what most people are looking for, okay? Noah’s just… weird.” He shifted in his seat, trying not to think of Noah’s piercing gaze and his kind smile and how gentle his hands were as he washed impossibly silky shampoo out of his hair.
“Must be.” Max paused, considering. “If you’re really nice to him, do you think he’d buy me a VR headset?”
Benji shoved him again.
Max rocked with the motion, giggling. Then he gasped, shooting up in his seat to stare out the window. “Oh shit! It’s that good Chinese place! Let’s go there! Benji!”
“I got it, stophittingme,” Benji said, twisting the wheel to turn across a mercifully empty lane of traffic and into the parking lot.
Two days later, Noah took him to yet another restaurant so expensive that the prices weren’t even included on the menu.
Benji watched him over the priceless menu, trying to shove down the absurd fondness in his chest. Noah wasn’t even doing anything, just examining his wine before taking a sip. And yet it made Benji want to kiss him. To ask about his day. To do that every night that Noah would let him. He’d worried that Noah would be mad after his repeated refusal to move in with him. But Noah was his usual self, pulling the chair out for Benji and brushing a stray eyelash from his cheek.
Noah looked up from his wine, smiling when he saw Benji staring. “What?”
