Noah kissed Benji’s curls. “Are you sure you don’t need to safeword?”
Benji shook his head. His fingers tightened in Noah’s shirt, rumpling it horribly. Noah hoped he left sweat prints.
“No,” Benji said. “Just… stay here.”
Noah stayed. By the time they were decent enough to head back out, they were almost cool.
Desmond had several buttons undone by the time they got back. There were two empty glasses in front of him, both with the same pineapple wedges as Benji.
“Hey,” Desmond said as they sat down. “Bartender said you’d been ordering a bunch of weird drinks. These blue ones are really nice.”
“I know,” Benji said.
Desmond chewed the last of a pineapple rind and stuck it into an empty glass. “Anyway, as I was saying. We need the public to see you guys as a big ol’ love match. And a crucial part of that is changing their perception of Benji. You can start with interviews?—”
Benji cut him off. “I don’t want to be a public figure.”
Desmond looked at Noah. Noah stared impassively back at him.
“Oookay,” Desmond said. “Fine. We can make up some wholesome shit for Noah to say in his interviews. And you can get strategically papped doing cute things as a couple.”
“Cute things,” Benji repeated. “Like… what? Farmers’ markets?”
“Things that people can root for,” Desmond said. “Things that let them know you’re serious, and they should like you.”
“Like what?” Benji asked.
“Farmers’ markets aren’t a terrible idea. We could get you two volunteering together, or doing something schmaltzy the people can coo over.” Desmond paused, and for a horrible, thrilling second, Noah knew exactly what he was going to say.
“Or,” Desmond continued. “You know. You could get married.”
CHAPTER 5
Benji charged into the lobby, shaking with rage.
“Benjamin,” Noah called after him. He paused to hold open the door for an elderly lady, shooting her a distracted smile that Benji wished he could be mad at. Why did Noah have to be so goddamndecentall the time?
“I’m fine,” Benji called back, stalking into the elevator. “Stop coddling me. Everything’s fine.”
Noah followed him into the elevator. “You hardly said a word in the car.”
“I don’t have to talk every second of every day, Noah!” Benji stabbed their floor number and then the Close Doors button, his mind bubbling with all the thoughts he hadn’t wanted to say on the drive home. Then the doors slid closed, and he realized that he was, yet again, trapped in an enclosed space with the guy he wanted to yell at. And Noah wasn’t leaving it alone anymore.
“Benji,” Noah said.
Benji whirled on him. “Did you put him up to this?”
“No, of course not.”
“Are you…” Benji swallowed, stepping back until his back hit the wall. “Are you not letting me come to punish me for not saying yes?”
Noah stared at him, appalled. “No.”
Benji sagged against the wall. He hadn’t seriously believed it, but he still had to ask. That stubborn little voice was still in the back of his head, hissing that everything was gonna go wrong and he had to get ahead of it before it crushed him.
“I’m not marrying you for aPR stunt,” Benji said. “I’m—I’m not?—”
He faltered. He couldn’t say it. Especially not with Noah looking at him like that, hiding his hurt under that faux-impassive expression.
