Page 67 of A Stealthy Situation

He clears his throat, suddenly looking confused about why he’s here. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to say that. I’m sorry. Everything I’ve said today was the truth. Em and I never played you. We didn’t even know the other knew you.”

“So, you didn’t tell him anything about me?”

“Of course I did! I talked about you constantly. I’m one step away from being obsessed with you, but you told him your name was Bowser, and I only knew you as Harrison.”

That makes sense. He randomly started to call me by my name that day we hung out after class. Was that the first time it was him?

“I …”

“Look, I shouldn’t have come over. I’m sorry. We’ll just … get the hell out of your life, I guess.”

I grab his arm as he tries to step by me, but even I’m not sure why. All I know is that I don’t want him to leave, but I’m not ready for this conversation.

“Look, I’m confused, and I’m hurt, and …”

He nods quickly.

“I don’t know, Benny. I don’t know what to say.”

“I get that.”

“You’ve just made it so hard to trust you.”

He sets his hand on my chest.

Before he can say anything, I lift it off and turn his hand over, revealing his completely clear palm. The solid proof that this is really happening. My face twists, and he snaps his hand closed again. This whole thing is just too much.

I step back, trying to arrange my thoughts in a way that makes sense.

When Benny walks out of my room, I let him go.

20

BENNY

This party blows.

I hate it.

The beer tastes like piss, and the music is too loud, and this guy grinding up on my lap is only making my dick softer. Not his fault I’m in a shit mood, but I’m getting irritated at him anyway.

He had one job. Take my mind off Harrison. But like my dick, my brain is doing the opposite of what it’s supposed to.

The guy runs his mouth along my neck, and it actually makes my skin crawl.

I tap his thigh. “I’ve had enough. Get off.”

“If you wanna get me off, you’ve gotta give me something to work with.”

“No. Get off as in vacate my lap. Now.”

He scowls and climbs off me. “You’re such a fucking dick, Dalton.”

“Duh.” I roll my eyes and watch him walk away. He’s hot, and it won’t take him long to find someone else who thinks I’m a dick, and then they can bond over blow jobs.

I, however, see no blow jobs in my future.

I pour the rest of my beer out onto the floor and toss the Solo cup after it. I’m in peak dick mode, but I can’t stop myself. Sure, I’m not the most pleasant person most of the time, but my bad moods usually pass quickly—Em helps with that—but this time, it’s clung on like herpes. Instead of distance from my fight with Harrison making things better, it’s only getting worse. I still feel like shit for snapping at Em over food earlier, and I’ve reached the point where I don’t care if anyone spots us both here together.

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