“Of course you can have a workshop,” Noah said smoothly.
Benji sighed. “Fine. Workshop. Whatever.”
He watched Max bounce against the booth, unable to stop a fond smile as Max started going on about all the stuff he was going to make. Then he looked over at Noah and found him with the exact same expression.
Benji’s heart fluttered. He hardly even noticed Max picking the pineapple off his pizza, something he would usually go on a triumphant rant over. Noah’s eyes were so soft and warm, nodding attentively as Max’s excited gestures got bigger and bigger.
A camera flashed. Benji’s heart flutters vanished, whirling around to look at the well-dressed paparazzi from the restaurant. He was standing next to the nearby table, his phone aimed at them.
“Max, was it?” the paparazzi asked, camera flashing again. “Could I getyourtake on this recent development? What do you think about your brother’s new job?”
“What doyouthink about shutting the fuck up?” Benji snapped. He stood, rage rushing through him in an unstoppable tidal wave. “He’stwelve, you fucking asshole.”
The paparazzi’s eyebrows hit his hairline. The flashes came faster, and Benji’s hands tightened into fists. Nobody screwed with his little brother but him.
But before he could do anything, a large hand landed on his shoulder.
“Wait here,” Noah said, edging out of the booth.
Max swallowed his pineapple-less mouthful of pizza. He looked uncharacteristically shy, shoulders hunched as he watched Noah go over and talk to the asshole, his voice low and calm.
“This feels weird,” Max said with an uncertain smile. “Like I’m in a movie.”
“Yeah,” said Benji. “Well.”
He didn’t know what to say to that. He always thought that if his life were a movie, it would be one of those American tragedies where a guy tries his best and gets kicked in the stomach for it.
Benji chewed his thumbnail anxiously. Noah was leading the guy to the door, a hand on his back. It didn’tlooklike they were going to devolve into a fight. Noah wasn’t the guy to start throwing punches. But Benji thrummed with adrenaline, ready for the worst.
Max asked, “Wouldn’t it be funny if I just told him a bunch of lies? Like you’re actually a prince in some weird country. Or a duke.”
“What? Don’t do that.” Benji craned his neck, watching Noah speak to the guy in hushed tones. “What evenisa duke?”
Max gave him a look like he was the biggest idiot in the world. Which Benji thought was pretty dumb.
“Name any situation ever where I’ll need to know what a duke is,” Benji said snippily.
Max rolled his eyes. “Firstof all?—”
Noah slid back into the booth. He squeezed Benji’s knee under the table, giving them both a reassuring smile.
“They won’t bother you again,” he told Max.
Benji twisted toward the window. The paparazzi was making a very quick exit across the road, looking dazed.
Noah gestured at the heap of picked-off pineapple on Max’s plate. “Are you going to eat that? I love pineapple.”
“Incorrect,” Benji said automatically, still coming down from the endorphins that always arose when he thought he’d have to fight someone.
Max groaned. “They’re fine on their own! I’m saving it until the end!”
“Sure. You didn’t regret your pineapple pizza choices atall.”
“I’mgoingto eat them,” Max insisted. He looked pleadingly at Noah. “When we move in, can we have takeout every night? You can afford it, right? Benji will besupernice.”
“I willnot,” Benji said, so shrill that his voice broke. He kicked Max under the table again. “Everynight? Did our hands fall off? Did we forget how to use the stove? I’m not letting you turn into one of those sad adults who don’t know how to cook anything beyond Pop-Tarts! Noah’s rich, he still knows how to cook!”
He shot Noah an urgent look, suddenly aware that he didn’t know if this was true or not. As far as Benji had seen, Noah’s cooking expertise stopped at slicing cheese and tomatoes to go on crackers.
