Chapter 5 #3
“I was a Cave Troll called Dud who joined a party of adventurers,” I admitted. “My intellect was zero, and, surprisingly, my strength was, too, but I maxed out my luck.”
Bennet laughed without restraint for the first time since I’d met him. “God, you’re a nightmare.”
“You should have seen the DM slapping her face every time I rolled the dice,” I said, laughing with him.
Bennet folded his lips and let the silence return between us. “You’re a nerd,” he said, his voice light with surprise, but the pleasant kind. “You don’t belong in the Bel House at all.”
“I just told you,” I said. “We’re more than those old stereotypes.”
He nodded. “You’re right. Sorry. But you’re still a very popular athlete who couldn’t pass Stats if his life depended on it.” Was that teasing?
“Would a popular athlete volunteer to bring a cheese platter to your next Dungeons & Dragons night? Dud’s probably still living somewhere deep inside me,” I said.
“Did you just invite yourself to our game?” Bennet asked.
I shrugged. “With cheese.”
“Half of my roommates are lactose intolerant, so take that however you want,” Bennet said.
A laugh broke out of me, and we started walking back to our houses again. “You know what? I’ll come with a six-pack of beer, and you’ll see that our worlds can meet in the middle.”
“If you think you can get me to drink out of a keg upside down by the end of the year, you’d better quit right now,” Bennet said.
“I’ve never been a quitter,” I assured him. “And I’d quite like to see you upside down.”
I didn’t think that was an innuendo of any sort until Bennet looked at me, eyes glassy and wide, lips parted enough to let him draw a shallow breath. Fuck. I’d said the wrong thing, but I just couldn’t stop myself.
Bennet tore his gaze away and focused very hard on the sidewalk. “You are insufferable,” he said. His voice had no bite at all.
“In a charming way,” I suggested.
“In a way,” he conceded.
We walked in silence for a few steps. Fallen leaves scraped under our shoes. The air had that sharp bite that meant winter was creeping in, and our breaths fogged a little. Streetlights flicked on one by one and painted Bennet’s face in warm pools of light.
I tried not to stare. Failed.
The frames of his glasses sat neatly on his nose, catching the glow.
His cheekbones cut clean lines across his face.
I had registered him as cute at first. Now the angles looked fierce.
The corners of his eyes tilted just enough to make his gaze seem sharper.
His mouth drew my attention more than it should have, soft and full and pink from the cold.
It hit me with a quiet thud that he was actually hot.
Hot in that dangerous way that snuck up on you. No warning. No mercy.
I shifted my duffel on my shoulder, hoping it would distract my body from the restless energy building in my chest. It didn’t.
“You’re doing it again,” Bennet said.
“Doing what?” I asked.
He glanced at me, then away. “You have that look like you’re making up an entire scenario in your head.”
“Is that right?” I asked. “What am I imagining?”
“That you march into the Thinkers’ House with a cheese platter and seduce my roommates into forming a fan club,” he said. “You’ll probably charge membership fees.”
A laugh burst out of me, clean and bright. It loosened something between us. “I would make a killing.”
“You’d have to make a spreadsheet,” he said. “And come up with projections based on the averages, taking into account standard deviation factors.”
The idea of me with a spreadsheet was so wrong that it tipped into funny. I laughed harder. “Wow. Bennet Marlowe, comedian.”
“Do not spread that rumor,” he said. “It’ll ruin my brand.”
The tension in my shoulders eased. The heavy heat in my chest did not.
It changed shape instead. The more he relaxed, the more I noticed the tilt of his head when he looked at me.
The way his lips twitched before he let himself smile.
The way his hand brushed mine for half a second when we stepped around a puddle.
He didn’t pull away as fast this time.
We fell quiet again. The silence sat between us in a different way from our first lesson.
Charged. Expectant. Every time our arms swung a little too close, my skin prickled.
I kept catching myself wondering what it would be like to hook a finger through his belt loop and tug him closer.
Stupid idea. He had made it clear enough that football wasn’t his thing.
Football guys were probably not his thing either.
And while I might have nursed a strong crush on the nerdiest of Doctor Whos, so did Bennet.
In this, it seemed, our type was the same.
I knew what that felt like, though. To want someone you had no business wanting. To feel that warm, jittery buzz in your veins that didn’t have an outlet. My body recognized the pattern long before my head wanted to name it.
Crush. That was the word. I hated it a little.
We reached the spot where the sidewalk split. One side toward the Bel House, the other up the slope toward the Thinkers’ House.
I slowed. “So. Friday. Adventurers and lactose-free snacks.”
Bennet stopped beside me. The lights from my house cast a soft halo over his hair. “You are very stubborn,” he said.
“It’s a gift,” I replied. “I can bring fancy chips if cheese is a war crime in your place. Or hummus. I hear nerds like hummus.”
“We like quiet and preparation,” Bennet said. “Also hummus.” His mouth curved. “You really want to come?”
“Yeah,” I said before I could pretend otherwise. “Feels like it’s time Dud returned to the party.”
He huffed a laugh. It looked a lot like delight he tried to wrestle into something cooler. “Fine. I will warn Rowan. He guards the campaign like his life depends on it.”
“Tell him I bring good vibes and terrible dice rolls,” I said.
“Perfect. We can statistically model how often you ruin everything,” Bennet said. “For science.”
My chest squeezed. I wanted to lean in and bump my shoulder against his, maybe a little more than that. Instead, I nodded toward his house. “Get home safe, Professor.”
“Good night, Jason,” he said quietly.
He turned and walked down the street. The wind caught his jacket and tugged at the hem. He pushed his hands into his pockets and hunched against the cold. I stood where I was, watching him grow smaller.
Warmth spread through my ribs, slow and deep, like the afterglow of a good run. It felt nothing like the rush of scoring. Softer. Stranger. More dangerous.
I didn’t know what to do with it. I only knew it wouldn’t go away because I told it to.
Bennet reached the Thinkers’ House and disappeared inside. I sighed, shifting the duffel on my shoulder, and finally turned toward my own front door.
Fine. If my brain wanted a side quest so badly, it could have one.
On Friday, I would dust off Dud the Cave Troll, walk down this same street, and knock on the Thinkers’ door.