“Sorry! Sorry!” I hear Benjamin’s voice ring out—breathless like he ran here. We turn to look at him and Josh whistles loudly.
“Fuck, Aaron. Your little Button sure is something.” I ignore him—instead I take in Benjamin and his adorable littlecostume.
Benjamin is a tennis player. He has a green tennis racket in his hand, a green-and-white striped sweatband on his forehead—peeking out from under his hair with every move. His thick-strapped tank top is white with some obscure green logo on the front, tucked into a pair of tiny green shorts with a white stripe up the side. They stop right above my scar—leaving a good stretch of his legs bare before the thigh-high socks start right above his knee. White base, green stripes horizontal at the top—and some white sneakers.
When he gets close enough you can see a bit of green glitter on his cheekbones. His eyes are popping against the color palette, and I think I’m going to pass out. I can see my button jumping off of his chest and falling right back down with every leap he takes. Then, he screeches to a stop in front of us—grinning like an idiot, but his eyes are a bit red.
“Husband,” Felix greets. “I would star in a tennis porno with you one hundo.” Kayla and a couple of the others laugh.
“I don’t know how to play tennis.” Benjamin responds, face extremely serious—still catching his breath. “Teach me and I’ll pay you with my body.” Josh chokes on his spit and Amber says something about being a great teacher. But all I can hear is,
“Teach me and I’ll pay you with my body.”Tonight will be interesting for sure.
“Where’s your keeper, sexy tennis god?” Josh asks, and my skin prickles a little. He’s starting to push itjusta bit. Benjamin scratches the back of his head—then the inside of his wrist.Uh oh. I know that tick. And so does Felix, who exchanges a knowing glance with me.
“He might join us later if he feels up for it.” Benjamin grins, but it’s not as bright as it was a moment ago.
“Let’s hit the road!” Amber yells, moving toward the flashing lights and thumping music.
“Button.” I curl my finger at him—beckoning him to me. And like he always does, he comes right to me.
“Yes?” The picture of pure innocence. As if he doesn’t know what he’s doing to me. We follow the group.
“Now how did you convince Dad to let you out looking like that?” He laughs at my calling Drew his dad—but come on, get real.
“I told him it was this or I’d go as a high school swimmer.” I turn and peer down at him—confused. He grins up at me. “In a speedo.”
A startled laugh bursts out of me—my eyes widening at his evil little smirk, the blush on his cheeks.
“You do like causing trouble now. I thought you were kidding.” I reference the pool when he told me he was a good boy—and his face reddens further.
“Correction, Aaron: Ilovecausing trouble. Mostly because I’m cute enough to get away with it.” My brow raises at him.
“Well, it might work everywhere else—but it wouldn’t work with me.” Benjamin’s face crumbles just slightly, his eyes moving back to the direction we’re walking in.
“Why not? Don’t think I’m pretty anymore?” His voice is snarky and he’s very clearly hurt. Like my opinion of him matters that much to him—that it’d ruin his night if I said no.
“No, I do. You’re very pretty.”
“Then why?” His gaze is curious and wary when he looks back up at me.
“Well, as much as I like looking at you—I like punishing you more.” His sneakers stop abruptly, and I stop a few steps in front of him—turning around.
“Aaron.” It’s breathless, soft—and it sayseverything. I smile.
“I know. Come on.” We continue walking.
I can’t remember why we’re doing this—this running in circles. Seeing other people, resisting each other. I had reasons, right? Why did I practice such great discipline for so long?
“Your costume isn’t really working if I’m honest.” Benjamin says after a moment.
“And what is that supposed to mean, asshole?” He gives me a loud, obnoxious laugh—one of his real ones—and my heart is so warm I start to sweat.
“The point of the costume is you’re scaring me and it’sPurgetime, right? Well, unfortunately—if I saw you through my window, I would let you right in.” He clicks his tongue at me, swinging his racket between us. My heart is pounding in my ears.
“Such a glutton for punishment, Button.” He says
nothing—doesn’t look at me, doesn’t even breathe too loud. He’s a scared little bunny watching a wolf circle. He makes no sudden movements. Which is all for the best—I’m ready to rip his little tennis shorts right off of him.
