Page 18 of A Stealthy Situation

Me:

I’d offer you dinner, but my roommates just ate it all. And you call me an animal.

Benny:

Well, did they wipe their faces on you when they were done? No? Then you still win. Also, good point. You owe me a meal.

Me:

Fair, but I’m poor, remember? So, it’ll either be something I cook or the school dining hall. Your call.

Benny:

Well, most of the home-cooked meals I’ve had over the years have been burned, so I’m interested in seeing what you can do.

Me:

Deal, I love cooking.

Benny:

What a coincidence: I love eating.

Me:

Match made in heaven.

I read over my words for a second before I think through what Marshall and Felix said. This doesn’t feel flirty to me. We’re just talking, and he’s an easy guy to talk to, but I guess there’s more than one way that could be taken.

Me:

Having friends you click with is the bomb.

I’m happy with that. It doesn’t sound too “sorry about the last message, I’m definitely straight” type of correction, but it lets him know he’s in the friendship category. That’s the main thing.

Benny:

So, what are you going to cook for me?

I let out the bated breath I’d caught when his reply dots had started on the screen. See? Zero weirdness. Thank fuck for that.

Me:

Risotto is my favorite, but I can do casseroles, fried chicken, anything with seafood …

Benny:

Considering I live off pasta all of those sound fantastic. Surprise me. Make my mouth water, big guy.

I snort a laugh because that’s maybe the flirtiest thing he’s said all day, and I wonder if he knows it can be taken more ways than one. I might have questioned shit if he’d sent a message like that before we’d established the friends thing. Instead, I just get to be buzzed that I’ve made a new friend.

Even if he is a DIK.

6

BENNETT

I cruise through the party, marveling again at how easily we’re able to pull something like this together. The house is full, and we only opened the doors ten minutes ago, but I can pick out my brothers by the random hoots and hollers coming from various rooms. It’s gotten clammy inside with all the body heat filling the space, so I’ve taken off my shirt and tucked it in my shorts—it has nothing to do with wanting Harrison to see my abs the second he steps into the house.

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