I look at him and plant a light kiss on his cheek so abruptly it stops him midsentence. “You didn’t do anything wrong, promise. But thank you for understanding.” I shift so I’m lying beside him and rest my head on his shoulder, letting my arm drape over his stomach that—my screwed-up sense of self and sexuality aside—is still really, really nice to look at. “You’re great, you know. I mean, I hope you know. And I appreciate you a lot.”
Benny brings his arm up to rest over mine. “Right back at you,” he says. There’s a hint of something like confusion or maybe self-consciousness in his voice. Which, given the events of the past two minutes, is understandable. After another moment, he adds, “I’m gonna, um, put my shirt back on now.”
I smile at him and try to think of something reassuring to say as he pushes his arms and head through the shirt’s sleeves and collar. I don’t want him to freak out or feel like he messed up or to leave with us on questionable terms. The issues are mine entirely, and I don’t want him to get hurt because of my baggage.
Unfortunately, what comes out is, “I, uh…Slow. I need slow. Issues. Challenges. You know.”
Excuse me, Reese Camden, do you even speak English? He definitely does notknowwhatever it was I just tried to convey.
But because Benny continues to be the greatest, he just clears his throat and says calmly, “What was that?”
I cover my face with my hands and blow out a long breath. “I’m a mess,” I say, the words muffled.
I feel his fingers wrap around mine and pull my hands down so he can see me. Pretty sure I’m a brighter red than I’ve ever been, flushed head to toe with both embarrassment and residual hot-for-boyfriend feelings.
“You’re not a mess,” Benny says, placing a soft kiss on my forehead. “But do you want to tell me what’s going on in your head right now, maybe with actual sentences?”
I do my best to pick out a few thoughts that have been dredged up from deep within me by today’s events and explain them to him—about double standards, scrutiny in the comments I’ve read, and creepy guys at the meet and greet. He listens attentively, concern evident in his eyes as I tell him it wasn’t his fault that I went into system shutdown at the least convenient time. It’s hard to turn off all the noise, even when nothing feels better than being in the moment with my very attractive boyfriend.
As I talk, I’ve been picking determinedly at my cuticles because everyone knows how well anxiety-induced, DIY manicuresturn out. Fortunately, Benny reaches over and stills my hands before I make myself bleed.
“Reese,” he says, shifting so that he’s facing me. I look up and his gaze is warm. Understanding. Relief rushes through me. “I don’t blame you for that at all. I get it and it’s okay—we’re okay. This is all new to me too, all right? I thought we’d established already, I may talk a good game, but I’ve kissed, like, two girls before you. Ever. And one I missed and went full nose-kiss. You can’t imagine what an improvement this is.”
I let out a snort of laughter, and he smiles, but it falters. “Hey,” he asks as if it’s only just occurred to him, “what do you mean, ‘creepy guys at the meet and greet’?”
Without really thinking about it, I pull my marked wrist to my stomach. Do I really want to open this additional can of worms? What good would it do now? The damage is done. He’s not about to go track down my harassers and demand retribution. I think I’d rather keep this one to myself. Then it’s only on me to let it go.
“Nothing,” I say with a wave of my hand. “Just a lot of…enthusiastic fans. It was fine, really.”
Benny does not look convinced, his eyes stormy. “Reese, if anyone did anything to make you uncomfortable, or—”
“Hey, I’m fine,” I repeat, reaching up to place my hand on his arm. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. No need for you to go Hulk-smash on anyone.”
I give his bicep a squeeze with a teasing smile. It’s true—today wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. Of course, my version of “handling it” is letting people pass me around like a rag doll without saying a word while internalizing a whole mess of feelings. But that’s my choice.
“If you’re sure,” Benny sighs, and I nod decisively. He continues. “Listen, we can go as slow as you want and need. You set the pace forever for all I care. I just want you to tell me what’s happening when you shut down so I can be here for you, because you don’t have to work through it all on your own and worry yourself sick. I’m on your team. I’m the head of your fan club, the guy making all the ‘Go Reese’ posters. I should probably act cooler about it, but I like you so much and just want you to know it.”
What started as a small, relieved grin from me is now a full-on, cheesy, toothy smile. I nearly can’t believe that this guy is my partner, that he’s really here right now, working through our first issue that could have turned into a whole awkward mess, not letting it get weird or tense.
This is what it should be like, when it’s good. And this thing with Benny is so, so good, regardless of all the other voices hollering nonsense in my head.
Lunging forward, I throw my arms around Benny’s neck and hug-tackle him so he falls back on the bed, letting out anoof.
“You’re amazing,” I murmur into his neck.
After his surprise wears off, Benny wraps his arms around my waist. “Back at you, Camden.”
We stay like that for a bit, a mass of intertwined limbs, not kissing or talking, the only sound our breathing and Benny’s hand making slow circles on my back over my T-shirt. Eventually, my neck gets uncomfortable at its funky angle, so I sit up and suggest we find a new movie to watch. Benny agrees and we land on a stupid buddy comedy, settling in under the covers and relaxing against each other to laugh at the dumb jokes and ridiculous plot. But the laughter gets more sporadic as we grow sleepier. Benny clicks off the lamp and I tug the sheets up higher under my chin.
Long before the credits roll, I’m conked out with his hand running through my hair and my drool running onto his shirt.
If most of the people in my life are right and there is indeed a higher power, then she must not be too mad at me for letting a boy sleep in my bed. Because in spite of us stupidly passing out without setting any alarms, Benny wakes up before the crack of dawn, which leaves plenty of time for him to get back to his room and for both of us to get ready for the day. If that’s not divine intervention, I don’t know what is.
Sorry, Mama.
I walk him to the door, unable to resist giving him a final peck before he leaves and I shut the door behind him. I go back to sleep for a few minutes, though I set an alarm this time. When it goes off, I roll over and grab my phone, tapping at it with eyes half-open till it stops blaring. But my eyes pop fully open when I see that I have more than a few unread messages from Benny.
Benny:Hey, so don’t freak out but as soon as I left yourroom, I saw a couple other people coming downthe hallway who may or may not have seen us kiss goodbye
