Chapter 11
Benji had forgotten his shoes, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as he sped down the hall toward Daphne’s room.
“Daph,” he hissed as he let himself into her room. “Daph! Where are you?”
Daphne leaned out of the bathroom. She had relocated to her own room after Max passed out, according to the text she’d sent while Benji was pelting down the hall texting furiously.
“Hey,” Daphne called, rubbing a towel through her wet hair. “Did you see this? I have my own hot tub!”
“That’s great,” Benji said dismissively. He closed the door behind him and marched over. “Daph—”
She cut him off, flopping down onto her bed excitedly. “This is the best thing I’ve ever slept on! Remember that memory foam from that mattress store in high school, and the owner kicked us out because we wouldn’t stop lying on it? This is better.”
“Sure,” said Benji. “Daphne—”
Daphne sat up again, tightening her robe. “Max said something about a spa treatment? Do you want to go at lunch? There’s this dolphin tour just before breakfast, but if you want—”
“Daphne,” Benji said over her. “He proposed again.”
Daphne blinked. He’d forgotten how young she looked without her eye makeup—like she was in high school all over again, waiting for the bus to come so she could apply it in the reflective window.
“Oh,” Daphne said. “Huh! I thought he wasn’t doing that for a while.”
“He said he wasn’t!” Benji sat down next to her on the bed, groaning into his hands. “I can’t keep doing this!”
Daphne rubbed his back uncertainly. “If you say you don’t want to right now, I’m sure he’ll back off.”
“That’s not the problem,” Benji spat. Then he winced. Daphne’s hand stilled on his back, her shrewd eyes watching him with a keenness he wanted to shrink away from.
“That’s not what I meant,” Benji started, but she was already talking over him.
“Ben,” she said. “Do you want to marry him?”
Benji spluttered helplessly. He was wearing yesterday’s jeans, which it was far too hot for, one sock, and one of Noah’s shirts since it was the first thing he saw.
But he suddenly felt naked under her gaze.
Like she could tell he’d been wearing Noah’s collar a minute ago, and that taking it off had felt like removing a limb.
“So what if I do?” Benji replied harshly.
Daphne’s lips flattened out. She gave him a disappointed look that he didn’t get very often—mainly because she was a massive people-pleaser during their first years of friendship, but then because his aunt was dying, and then again because his aunt was freshly dead and he was working a string of shitty jobs while still trying to succeed at community college and take care of his little brother.
She’d been letting the disappointment through more lately. He would be proud of her if it didn’t make his hackles go up so fast.
“Benji,” Daphne sighed.
Benji scoffed, pushing her hand away. “I can’t actually marry him, Daph! That’s not how the world works!”
“Why?” Daphne demanded.
“Because it’s not,” Benji snapped. “Okay? The sky is blue, at some point you will get your coffee confused and drink the paint water mug instead, and Benji Caulfield doesn’t marry a gorgeous BDSM billionaire!”
Daphne laughed, pushing herself off the bed with an almighty bounce. “Benji! We’re in Bali right now! For free! Sometimes good things happen!”
“Sometimes good things happen,” Benji repeated furiously.
It was an old argument: Daphne, the ever-present optimist, and Benji, the distrusting cynic.
Most of the time, Benji rolled his eyes and ignored her.
But sometimes her determined cheer rubbed him the wrong way, even to the point of pain.
Like she was being dense just to piss him off.
Suddenly, the retort he’d been wanting to say for years poured out of him, sharp and harsh.
“Nothing good happened for the first nineteen years of my life,” he barked. “My mom and dad both abandoned me, my aunt died, and I got stuck looking after my baby brother? What good thing fucking happened in that?”
Daphne’s smile dropped. Something steely and fed up appeared in her eyes, a look he hadn’t seen since she poured coffee over Dillion Thomas’s head last semester.
“You met me,” Daphne said fiercely.
Benji groaned. “Daph—”
“And you changed my life for the better,” Daphne continued.
Benji’s jaw snapped shut. That… wasn’t where he was expecting her to take this. When she got on this train, she usually spouted flowery shit until he gave up. But this wasn’t her usual cheery optimism. She wasn’t smiling one bit as she continued:
“You taught me that I can’t go through life letting people walk all over me.
And now, god fucking willing, I’m going to help you believe that sometimes you catch a break!
Sometimes you meet someone, and they’re everything you couldn’t admit you’ve been looking for!
And yeah, apparently sometimes they’re a billionaire CEO—”
“CFO,” Benji mumbled automatically. Then he remembered the promotion and corrected himself. “Wait, yeah, CEO.”
Daphne steamrolled over him, yelling, “—who’s crazy about you and really good in bed!
If you didn’t actually want to marry him, that’s one thing.
But if you’re telling me the only thing holding you back is your childhood trauma telling you that everything goes to shit when you’re in it, it’s time to move! The! Fuck! On!”
She grabbed his face, staring deep and furious into his eyes. “Stop trying to ruin your life,” she hissed. “If it goes to shit, it goes to shit. It happens. But let yourself be happy for once!”
It sounded a lot like the instincts struggling to get through to him when Noah proposed back in their room.
Benji wanted to protest all the old truths: it wasn’t a superstition, it wasn’t self-esteem, it was a fact that things went to shit around Benji.
That he was shit and everyone would one day see it and leave him, as they should.
Then he listened closer and heard, for the millionth time, who those instincts sounded like. And a strange realization crept over him, icy and still.
Everything out of his dad’s mouth was bullshit. Why the fuck had he been listening to it for this long?
Benji wet his lips. He still couldn’t shake himself free, not completely. But Daphne’s last words kept ringing through his head: If it goes to shit, it goes to shit. It happens. But let yourself be happy for once!
He couldn’t force himself to believe he could have good things. But he could try it. Noah had proved him wrong so far. Maybe he could keep that up.
“Okay,” Benji whispered.
Daphne let go of his face. “Okay?”
Benji nodded, dazed.
“Oh,” Daphne said. “Wow. To which bit?”
Benji touched his bare throat. “I’m—I’m gonna let myself be happy.”
Daphne’s eyes went wide. She stepped back, a huge smile growing on her face. “Like…?”
“I gotta go,” Benji blurted. He turned to run out the door. Then he paused, dropping a kiss on her forehead.
Daphne giggled. “Go get him, I guess!”
Benji shot her a nervous grin and ran out into the hall. His heart was racing, but for the first time since Noah proposed, there was no dread accompanying it—the dread of inevitable collapse.
Maybe they would fall apart. Maybe not. But Benji was going to give them a chance.
He was going to let Noah give him what they both wanted.
Finally.
He made it halfway down the hall before a thick hand shot out and dragged him to a stop.
Benji turned, his hands coming up automatically. He had never been formally trained to fight, but he’d been in enough informal fights to know to guard his face.
Then he saw who had grabbed him, and his healed cheek tingled in anticipation.
“Michael,” he said. “What the fuck are you doing in Bali?”
Michael hiccupped. He was wearing a rumpled suit with a dark stain down the front. A reluctant sniff revealed this not to be alcohol, but mouthwash. It was so minty it made Benji’s eyes burn.
“Here,” said Michael, only slurring slightly as he shoved a suitcase into Benji’s hands. Then he frowned, plucking at the shirt hanging off Benji’s thin frame. “Is that his shirt?”
Benji pushed him away. Then, for good measure, he dropped the suitcase at Michael’s feet.
“I don’t want shit from you,” Benji told him. “Now move, I’m busy.”
Michael scoffed. When Benji tried to move past him, he grabbed Benji’s shirt and held him still.
“It’s five million dollars,” Michael said, and the shock of it rooted Benji to the spot.
“It’s more than you’ll ever get with him.
Trust me, he’ll pull his head out of his ass soon.
He’s a useless fucking romantic, but he’s actually pretty smart.
So, take your money and leave my little brother alone. Alright?”
Benji laughed, incredulous. He gripped Michael’s wrist, thinking about Noah’s wrist inside his hole last night, about sun hitting glass and turning the room gold, about Noah scribbling orange juice onto a list festooned with cartoon robots.
Lastly, he thought about Mrs. Presley and her offer.
When he’d checked his emails after getting off the plane, she’d confirmed she had just sent him money for his first piece.
“I don’t want his money,” Benji said instead. “I don’t even need his money anymore. I’m doing just fine on my own, Mikey.”
“You don’t get to call me that.” Michael paused to burp, looking annoyed at his own stomach for putting him through it.
“I can call you whatever the fuck I want,” Benji said. “What are you gonna do, Mikey? Punch me again? Think that’ll get Noah on your side?”
He shoved Michael’s hand off him. He felt like he could fight a hundred Michaels without breaking a sweat. He could gut-punch a million Dillions. He could drag Chet away, no security needed.
“Look,” Benji said. “I’m sorry some girl fucked you over fifteen years ago, but I’m not like that. I love him. I don’t know why that surprises you so much! He’s easy to love! And you better get used to me because—”
Benji stammered, a triumphant grin spreading over his face. “Because you’re going to be my brother-in-law.”
Michael squinted at him. Then he groaned, his face creasing up in despair.
“Jesus Christ,” he hissed. “That idiot proposed?”
“You bet your fired ass he did,” Benji yelled. “And I’m saying yes!”
A familiar voice rang down the hall. “You’re saying yes?”
Benji whirled.
Noah stood behind him, staring at Benji with wary wonder. Waiting to see if Benji was only saying it to mess with Michael. Which was, Benji acknowledged as his stomach swarmed with butterflies, exactly the kind of thing Benji would do.
Then Benji ran to him, and Noah’s wariness faded to such gorgeous hope that Benji couldn’t do anything but kiss him.
Noah kissed him back hesitantly at first. Then his arms wrapped around his waist, holding him crushingly close.
“Hi,” Benji whispered. “Take me back to your room? I don’t want this to happen in front of your dipshit brother.”
“You can’t be serious,” Michael said. He kicked the suitcase Benji had dropped at his feet. “Noah! What the hell?”
“Shut the fuck up, Mikey,” Noah told him.
He took Benji’s hand and led him back to the room. Benji shot Michael the middle finger and let himself be pulled into their rooms, closing the door eagerly on Michael’s incredulous expression.
Noah turned to Benji and took his face in his hands. “Are you sure?”
Benji nodded. “Ask me again.”
Noah smiled disbelievingly. He was disheveled and sleep-rumpled and the most beautiful thing Benji had ever seen.
“I still don’t have a ring,” Noah started.
“You have a collar,” Benji replied.
Noah’s eyes went soft and possessive. He kissed Benji so deeply that Benji almost decided to put off the proposal and see if Noah could really fit inside him with no prep, and then Noah raced over to the bed and picked up the collar from where Benji had dropped it.
Benji’s vision blurred as Noah got down on one knee. He was still terrified, but it was hard to be too scared with Noah looking up at him like that.
“Benjamin Caulfield,” Noah began. “I told you months ago, anything I give you, you keep. I’ve given you my heart. Will you keep it?”
“Oh, holy fuck, I hate you,” Benji croaked, grinning tearfully. He dragged a hand over his suddenly wet cheeks, shaking with joy and excitement. “Nothing I say is ever going to top that, Noah!”
“Say yes,” Noah suggested.
Benji dropped to his knees and kissed him. The sun streamed in through a crack in the curtains, just a thin sliver. But Benji couldn’t help but feel the room was full to the brim with light.
“Yes,” he breathed.
Noah slipped the collar around his neck. It settled around Benji’s throat smoothly, easily, like it was always meant to be there.