12. Benji
BENJI
...LIKE A LIFE I WANT TO LIVE.
I plead guilty.
No. Wait. INNOCENT .
I plead innocent ... damn. Is it too late to plead the Fifth?
Not that I would need to, or at least, not with Sam, I think. Even though I don’t really know what to think anymore.
I’d been to that grove a hundred times, sat on that stone just as often. I’d listened to the crickets before, watched the moon’s reflection appear on the water before, and yes, I’d even kept Gordy warm with my body heat—twice.
It was a trick I saw on some survival show, and I already had the chance to prove it worked not just with Gordy, but also Chelsea and my other ex-girlfriend, Sarah, whom I won’t mention again except this once. (Sarah, you know why. Sorry, and thanks again.)
So, I swear—no, I plead —that I had no ill intentions when I offered Sam the same deal.
But nothing could have prepared me for him.
When I wrapped my arms around him, everything felt normal and innocent.
But two seconds in, I had to breathe—because people have to breathe, I was no exception—and Sam ( I probably shouldn’t even think this) smelled so.
.. incredible: like the ocean, like a warm, lazy beach day you never want to end, like I didn’t know what was up and down anymore.
His smell was unlike anything I had experienced before; it scrambled my brain. Sarah, Chelsea, even Gordy... none of them had that effect on me.
But that didn’t have to mean anything, right?
It only meant I liked him.
And if people want to talk shit about me because of that, fine. That’s actually something I would go to jail for. Liking someone shouldn’t be a crime.
Yes, he smelled amazing. Yes, I enjoyed talking to him. And yes, holding him, feeling his back pressed against me, the bare skin of his arms brushing against mine, felt good, as in it-had-never-felt-like-this-before good.
If that makes me guilty, then lock me up.
“Benji?” Sam breathed, pulling me out of my thoughts. His neck stiffened as if he didn’t dare turn his head to me. “I guess it’s my turn to ask if you’re okay. I’m sorry if anything I said upset you.”
“Huh?”
“You’ve been huffing pretty hard for the last thirty seconds.”
“Huffing?”
“Like a bull getting ready to charge.”
“I was just breathing.” Breathing him in , more like. Getting all tangled up in my head. Realizing I probably had to stop holding him soon, but not fucking wanting to. Because what were the chances of being so close to him ever again? “So, stop worrying. You didn’t upset me or anything.”
“Okay.” His voice cracked a little. His shoulder blades pulled together, almost as if he was thinking about breaking free of our embrace, but then he eased up instead, pressing into me a little more.
And it was almost scary how I didn’t mind that at all.
“This really works,” he said, probably not realizing how it worked on me. “I’m not cold at all anymore.”
“That’s... good to hear.” I dipped my head forward, staring at his neck.
A few fine hairs stood there, tempting me to press my nose in and breathe deep until my lungs exploded, to make sure I would never forget his scent.
I wanted to run my fingers through his short brown hair, maybe slip them under his shirt.
Each time he inhaled, his chest rose against my arms. Each time it fell again, I was left wanting that feeling back.
The crickets chirped, still locked in rivalry with the lone frog that had been calling out ever since we got here.
I could’ve bottled this moment and stuck it in a snow globe—until a branch cracked on the path behind us, followed by laughter that wasn’t ours.
Sam’s head snapped up, froze, and when another laugh, closer, louder, made it crystal clear that someone was approaching, we both jumped up, no words needed. We both knew that it wouldn’t be good for either of us if we were caught in a moment like this.
Sam got on his feet. I scrambled up right behind him, but slipped, catching myself against the tree just as a voice I knew way too well ripped through us like a wolf’s teeth.
“No. Fucking. Way.”
Peter Riggs—or Pee-Pete as I call him—pushed his crooked nose through the branches, his mouth twisted into the smirk of the month, the one he only brought out when he felt like he had the upper hand. He was a real pain in the butt, and unfortunately, also my cousin.
He puffed himself up and squared his shoulders as if to show off his stupid leather jacket.
Behind him, the leaves kept rustling. Two other guys stepped out, one with hair that gleamed in the last scraps of daylight, thanks to way too much gel, the other with fiery red hair and a spray of freckles, carrying two bottles individually wrapped in brown paper bags.
I might’ve laughed at how ridiculous the goon brigade looked if it weren’t for the fact that every time Pete and I crossed paths, it ended in a brawl. Not to mention that they shouldn’t even know about this place.
“What are you doing here?” I growled, keeping my voice as low and unfazed as possible.
I wouldn’t have minded fighting Pete—out here, his asshole of a dad wouldn’t be swooping in to save him—but I did mind Sam getting involved.
He probably wouldn’t stand a chance even if it were only against Mr. Freckles.
And I definitely couldn’t take on all three of them at the same time, if things went south.
“You thought you could keep this place all to yourself, didn’t you?” Pete replied, raising his chin high. “But someone here wasn’t as selfish as you.” His grin widened as he tilted his head, forcing my eyes behind him.
A hand pushed through the branches, pulling them aside, and I did a double-take when I saw who stepped through. That long, golden hair spilling over narrow shoulders—I would’ve recognized it from a hundred feet away in a burning wheat field.
Pete fixed his eyes on me. “Isn’t that right, Chelsea ?”
I glanced at her, but she didn’t look back. Why would she hang out with a sleazebag like him? Not that it mattered. She could hang with whoever she wanted, but even I knew that she deserved better.
“No one owns a lake,” I muttered, shooting a glance at Sam, who stood beside me like a slightly cracked match.
“And still, you acted like it was your personal property.”
I sighed and crossed my arms behind my head. It was always the same with this fucker. Wherever he went, he had to stir shit up and make everything about him. Why everyone else put up with it was beyond me, but I wasn’t about to.
“Think what you want, Pee-Pete .”
That wiped the grin off his face.
“I told you not to call me that,” he snapped.
“You get what you give.”
“Don’t play innocent, you stupid asshole.” He stepped toward us, and while I easily held my ground—because Pete always pulled meaningless stunts like this—Sam immediately took a step back.
“Why is he calling you Pee-Pete ?” asked Mr. Freckles, but the glare Pete shot at him in return made him clamp his mouth shut.
Pete turned back to me and began closing the distance, taking every step deliberately, like he wanted me to imagine his boots crunching my neck instead of the stone.
“You think you’re so amazing, don’t you, Ben?
” he sneered. “Let me clue you in. Everyone knows you’re a piece of shit.
That’s why no one wants to hire you, no one wants to be your friend, and no girl’s interested in you.
” His eyes flicked to Sam, his brows curling as if he felt sorry for me.
“It must be pretty bad if you now have to date?—”
“If I were you,” I cut in, lowering my arms. “I’d really think about what to say next.”
I didn’t want a fight. Not with Sam around. But Pete’s face told me to be ready. I needed a plan, quick. I had to take a more intimidating approach, scare at least his friends off so they wouldn’t all come at me at once.
“Oh, would you?” Pete said. “But you know what they say, don’t you? Birds of a feather flock together.”
I lunged forward. Only three steps, enough to make Pete’s shoulders shoot up to his ears and his goons shuffle back. “What do you want to say with that?” I shouted, loud enough to make some birds flutter from the trees.
It didn’t shake him like I’d hoped. Pete’s shoulders sank, and his smug grin slid back into place.
“Why are you so worked up, Ben?” He puffed out his chest, stepped closer, and pressed it against mine. “That wasn’t an insult. Just an observation .”
“Benji,” Sam said behind me, bringing all the attention to him. “Let’s leave.”
“See, this guy gets it, Ben- ji .”
The grin on Pete’s face stretched so wide my fists ached to wipe it off. Hearing my full name used like that, twisted into a taunt for Sam and me, pushed the heat into my head. But I couldn’t let him get under my skin. Pete wasn’t worth it.
Sam was.
Sam was worth protecting. And the best way to do that was to walk away, like he had suggested.
“You’re right, Sam.” I let out a breath, keeping my fists ready just in case, but turned to him. “Let’s go.”
Sam’s left hand clung to his right arm as if he wanted to actually cling to mine. He pressed his lips together, nodded slowly, and walked past the group. I kept my eyes locked on Pete and his goons the whole time, a silent warning not to try anything funny.
Chelsea stepped aside, clearing the only way out. I glanced at her briefly, but she stared at the ground, hiding behind a strand of her hair.
Sam pushed the branches away, holding them, and motioned for me to walk through first.
“Thanks,” I muttered as I stepped past him.
“That’s right,” Pete yelled, his voice sharp. “You better listen to that faggot. ”
I stopped in my tracks. The silence that followed hit like a snapped wire. It was as if the world itself held its breath. I didn’t move at first, but Chelsea and the two other guys took a few steps back, as if they knew Pete had crossed a line he couldn’t uncross.
Slowly, I turned. Pete glared at me, his chin high, daring me to lose it. He knew I would, that I couldn’t let this one slide. He was right.