“Benji,” I warned, my voice close to a growl.
“Different how?” Skyler asked, curiosity winning over caution.
“Oh, where do I begin? He smiles at his phone. He hums while he works. Yesterday I caught himstaring off into space with this Disney-esque expression while washing glasses.” Benji clasped his hands to his chest. “It’s like watching a princess discover love at a bazaar.”
My face was on fire. “Idon’thum.”
“You hummed ‘Can’t Help Myself’ for twenty minutes straight last Thursday.”
“That song was stuck in my head.”
“Because you were thinking about someone who makes you feel like you can’t help yourself, perhaps?” Benji waggled his eyebrows at Skyler. “This is what you’ve done to our stoic, emotionally unavailable barback. You’ve turned him into a romantic comedy.”
Skyler was grinning so widemycheeks ached. “Is that right?”
“Don’t encourage him,” I muttered.
“Oh, but there’s more!” Benji was just getting started. “He bought new cologne. And not any cologne—expensivecologne, the kind that says, ‘I’m trying to impress someone.’ He also started doing push-ups in the back office during slow periods.”
“I did not—”
“Finn caught you. We have a witness.”
Skyler turned to me, eyes bright with mischief. “Push-ups in the back office?”
“It was one time. I was bored.”
“And yesterday,” Benji continued relentlessly, “he spent fifteen minutes arranging the garnishes in perfect little rows. Fifteen minutes. For limes and cherries. Like he was expecting a very important inspection from someone with extremely high fruit standards.”
“The garnishes were messy—”
“They were fine, but suddenly they needed to be perfect.” Benji leaned closer to Skyler, dropping his voice to a stage whisper. “And don’t even get me started on the hair.”
“What about the hair?” Skyler asked, clearly delighted.
“He’s been using product, actual styling product. Our beautiful, naturally curly-haired boy has been taming his locks with pomade or mousse or whatever it is you people use to make hair obey physics.”
I ran a hand through said hair, which had indeed been the victim of recent styling attempts. “It’s a little gel—”
“AHA!” Benji pointed triumphantly. “He admits it! Gel! For a man who hasn’t used anything stronger than shampoo in the years I’ve known him!”
Skyler burst out laughing. “Anything else?”
“Oh, I’m just getting warmed up. He’s been—”
“Benjamin.” Finn’s voice cut across the bar like a blade through butter. “Kitchen. Now.”
Benji’s shoulders slumped. “But I was getting to the good part about the cologne shopping trip.”
“There was no cologne shopping trip,” I said.
“There absolutely was. Macy’s. Last Wednesday. You came back smelling like a department store sample counter.”
“Kitchen,” Finn repeated, his tone suggesting this was not a request.
Benji sighed but pushed away from the bar. “Fine, but this conversation is not over. I have lots more stories.” He pointed at Skyler, then at me, then back at Skyler. “Stories that will make your pretty little head spin.”
He disappeared toward the kitchen, leaving blessed silence in his wake.
