27. Benji
BENJI
YOU KNOW HOW TO MAKE ME WEAK
Never in a million years did I think I’d end up in the back of a police car with Sam and his Dad on the front seats.
I thought I had evaded that fate when I drove from Red Creek with my own car.
It took us a grueling five hours to get to the new apartment, only to have the building manager inform us that there had been a mix-up and they could let us in.
.. in an hour. So, since my car was packed to the roof with boxes and hitched to a tiny trailer, we decided to leave it at the complex and take Sam’s Dad’s car to grab food.
The police car. Because that doesn’t make people stare.
“How’s the view back there?” Michael—yes, we were now on a first-name basis—called over his shoulder, his eyes focused on the street.
“Can I say: thankfully not too familiar?”
They both laughed.
“I didn’t know you could drive these off duty,” I said.
“Plenty of departments don’t allow it,” Michael explained. “But our county’s pretty lax.”
“I wished they were less lax, quite often,” Sam muttered, the short sentence enough to let me picture him being driven around in this exact police car quite often when he was younger.
We turned into the parking lot of an Out&About Burger , which was only a few blocks away.
Since we had plenty of time now, we went inside, instead of using the drive-thru, only to find out that this was the fanciest and cleanest location of a fast food restaurant anyone could’ve ever imagined.
It was so civilized and quiet that I felt like I had entered an alternate dimension—a very expensive one, as I discovered when I looked at the menu.
I ordered the smallest meal—one hamburger with a small side of fries and a small soft drink—since the last weeks had already been far too expensive for my liking, but Michael leaned in.
“My treat. You can go for anything you like.”
After hesitating for a second, as he had already helped us so much these last few days, and I didn’t want to take advantage of him, I still upgraded to two burgers and a milkshake.
I couldn’t deny that driving all day had already left me hungry, not to mention the heavy lifting still ahead of us.
Based on my hunger alone, I could’ve ordered even more, but I also had one of Mom’s sandwiches buried somewhere inside my car and wasn’t about to let that go to waste either.
While we waited for our number to be called, we mapped out the rest of the afternoon. The plan was simple: Sam and I would tackle the big pieces that needed four hands, while Michael would start on the boxes.
We’d brought all of Sam’s old furniture, plus a new bedframe and mattress—the first piece of furniture we actually bought together—and some of my stuff too, even though I hadn’t been offered a full-time job yet.
This, though, felt like only a matter of time.
Mr. Farley’s reference letter had already landed me two interviews, and hopefully, at least one of them would come through any day now.
Before we could get into more detail, our number flashed on the screen over the counter. We grabbed our trays and found a neat little three-person spot in the corner overlooking a street lined with stores and restaurants that all looked too expensive for my taste.
“Quite the bougie place,” I stated, slurping the way too sweet strawberry milkshake.
“The flower shop looks nice, though,” Sam said, pointing across the street.
An all-glass front displayed a jungle of tall palm trees and an expansive arrangement of bouquets.
“Le Conservatoire Botanique” (how do you even pronounce that?) was printed in fancy letters on the glass, making the inside look like a photograph.
“Looks bougie, too, if you ask me.”
“Have you heard back from the two places in Juniper Crossing?” Michael asked.
“Any day now, hopefully.”
“Then you should go over there and see if they’re taking applications. Can’t be too picky in today’s economy.”
I glanced at Sam, who made a face that said I had that one coming.
We finished our burgers and fries, and I graciously gave half my milkshake to Sam, who enjoyed the sweetness a lot more than I did.
Before we drove back, I crossed the street to the flower store to follow Michael’s advice, but the moment the old woman in her stupid embroidered apron laid eyes on me, I knew I was in the wrong place. I asked her anyway.
“We’re not hiring,” she said in a tone that would’ve earned a harsh reply from me a couple of months ago. Now, I just thanked her and hurried back to the car.
As we rolled past the flower shop two minutes later, the old lady glanced out, her mouth popping open as she spotted me in the back of the police car. I couldn’t help but grin and wave at her.
Back at the apartment complex—a fifteen-story building that took up two blocks, and, by my guess, held at least five hundred units—the building manager was finally waiting with the keys.
Our place was on the second floor, which, funny enough, was one story below street level.
As the manager led us downstairs, he explained that the building was cut into a hill, and the residential floors are numbered from the lowest point up, meaning street level was technically the third.
(Confused yet? Me too.) We followed a long hallway, turned right, then left, then right again, and by the time we reached apartment 212, I had totally lost my bearings.
I hadn’t been here before, because I was working at the farm when Sam and his mom toured it, and maybe that was for the best—the bizarre numbering and layout might’ve made me hesitate to take it, even though it was the only affordable one we could find.
The manager unlocked the door, and Sam let me walk in first, so I could finally see my new home.
Right next to the entrance on the left was a coat-and-shoe closet.
The small entryway opened directly into the living room, with space for a dining table on the left, adjacent to the kitchen.
Three doors lined the far wall. The one on the left was another closet, the middle one led to the windowless bathroom, and the one on the right to a surprisingly spacious bedroom.
Thankfully, the windows in both the bedroom and living room faced a stand of trees that screened the parking lot behind the house.
I’d worried I’d be staring at concrete every time I looked out, but this felt like a good compromise.
“Quite the upgrade to your old one,” I said, amazed that it was three times the size of the place in Red Creek.
“Because you’re moving in, too?” Sam teased, sticking out his tongue.
A clap behind us made us turn around to Michael. “Alright, time to move in,” he said and nodded toward the door.
The next three hours were filled with sweat. We hauled in the furniture and set it roughly where it should go straight away, so the place would feel homey quickly.
“We should get you guys a couch,” Michael said as we carried in my old armchair, the only living room piece we owned. If he had known I was used to lounging in it with Sam sitting on my lap, he might’ve kept that thought to himself, but I certainly wasn’t going to tell him.
“Maybe I can ask around college if anyone has something free or cheap,” Sam said.
“Good thinking,” Michael agreed.
We set the armchair down in the middle of the room and took in the day’s achievements. Finally, everything was inside.
“Well, guys, good work,” Michael said, checking his watch. “And that’s actually my cue if I want to make it home before dinner.”
“Thank you for your help, Dad,” Sam said, giving him a quick hug.
I shook his hand. “Thanks, Michael, sir. We really appreciate it.”
He looked at me with a smile I couldn’t quite read, but then nodded. “Just... take good care of each other, guys. And don’t forget to bring the trailer to the compound by four, or you will have to pay a penalty. And call both your mom’s tonight.”
With that, he said his goodbyes and left us alone.
The moment the door clicked shut, Sam wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a kiss.
“I thought he was never going to leave,” he laughed, his hands already sliding toward my ass.
“Can you believe it? That we’re here now?
” I chuckled and kissed him again. “Damn, I don’t want to drive all the way back tomorrow.
” Not because of the distance, but because I had to do it without him.
“And those stupid guys from the tree nursery still haven’t called, even though they promised.
” I looked at the ceiling, raising my voice.
“If anyone’s listening, I don’t actually think they’re stupid.
They were great, and I fucking loved the place. Please hire me.”
Sam huffed a laugh into my neck and tugged me closer by the belt loop. “If they don’t want you, then we’ll find something else.”
“I know.” I melted into him. Our hips lined up, pressing into each other, my arms locking across his back. “It still sucks. I just want to fucking be with you.”
“Well, since we are finally alone, you could...” He mischievously glanced down and then flicked his eyes up at me, “... be with me , if you know what I mean?”
“I always know what you mean.” My hands wandered down to his ass. “But it’s my turn today, isn’t it?”
“Depends on how often we do it. It might be both our turns, twice.”
“I love where this is going.” I scanned the apartment, my eyes landing on the bedroom. The mattress still leaned against the wall, wrapped in plastic, with the unopened box containing the frame next to it. “But we don’t have a bed yet, and we still have to bring the trailer back.”
“We’ve got fifteen minutes. Not much, but fuck it.
” Sam let go of me and darted to the stack of boxes along the living room wall.
He skimmed the labels, yanked one open that read “Bedroom Six,” and pulled out a bedsheet.
Grinning, he headed for the bedroom. I followed, curious to see what he was about to do.