Page 23 of Sour Candy (Sour Candy #1)

“I want to do something different for our next date.”

Benji fought back a smile, trying to focus on the soup simmering on the stove.

“Should I be excited or worried?”

“Excited,” Noah replied. “Just not in the way you think.”

“Ominous,” Benji muttered. “Okay, what should I prepare myself for?”

“Could you bring Max to Livingstone Theater at seven tomorrow night?”

Benji made a face. He snuck a glance behind him, checking if Max was watching him from the living room. But Max was on his phone, cackling at whatever someone was messaging him and not paying any attention to his big brother stirring a can of tomato soup.

“Uh,” Benji said. “I guess. Why?”

“You guys haven’t been getting a lot of quality time. Since I’m the main cause of that, I wanted to give you some time together.”

Benji’s stomach erupted in butterflies. He chewed hard on his cheek. Noah was so damn sweet . How was Benji supposed to handle it?

“You don’t have to,” he started, but Noah was already talking over him.

“So can you bring him?”

Benji considered. He was still uncomfortable with Max knowing too much about Noah.

He could put two and two together and work out why Benji was “staying late at work” so much.

But he could also get attached, and Benji didn’t want to put him through that.

It was going to be bad enough with just Benji getting hurt; he didn’t want to drag Max into that, too.

“Are you going to be there?”

“Only if you want me to be,” Noah said. “It doesn’t have to be a date. It can just be you and him.”

Benji gnawed on his thumbnail. He almost wanted to yell at him. You’re ruining me for other men, jackass! What am I supposed to do when you leave?

“Benjamin?”

“You can come,” Benji said. “If you’re prepared to sit through a twelve-year-old chatting your ear off until the security guard threatens to kick us out of the theater.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Noah said confidently.

Benji wondered if he was going to pay the movie people off. That sounded like him.

“You might kick him out yourself,” Benji warned, moving the pot off the stove. “Seriously, he gets so excited. Won’t shut up.”

“Looking forward to it,” Noah said easily. “See you tomorrow night.”

“Wait,” Benji said. He lowered his voice. “So, you’re saying I shouldn’t wear those panties you like?”

Noah sucked in a breath. Benji grinned. Noah was so unflappable outside of bed—pulling out any reaction was a triumph.

“Do me a favor,” Noah said. “If you wear them, don’t tell me until after the movie.”

They ate dinner on the couch in front of the TV. Benji waited until Max was halfway through his soup—bread already long gone, microwaved broccoli untouched—before he said it.

“Hey,” he said. “Want to go to a movie tomorrow night?”

Max looked up from the TV, brightening. “Sure! Which one? Can we get popcorn?”

“Yes to popcorn,” Benji said, stomach twisting as he imagined Noah trying to pay for it all.

Benji would pay for Max—that wasn’t Noah’s job.

But the generous bastard would probably insist. Benji didn’t want to argue with him in a theater, but realistically, that was what was going to happen.

Neither of them was going to give in easily.

“I don’t know which movie,” he admitted when Max looked at him pointedly. “My boss is treating us to tickets. He wants it to be a surprise.”

“Weird,” Max said brightly. “What was his name again? Nate?”

Benji dug his elbow into his side. “He carried your robot up eleven flights of stairs, dude. You should at least learn the guy’s name.”

“Right,” Max said, unconcerned. “What was it again?”

“Noah.”

“Nooooah,” Max said, sucking his next spoonful noisily until Benji glowered. “Your boss is cool. He listens when I talk. Unlike SOME people.”

“I listen to you, shithead,” Benji barked. “I wish I didn’t listen! Then I wouldn’t know the lore of all seven alternate worlds in RoboSpace!”

“It’s NINE,” Max yelled. “Which proves how much YOU listen.”

Dinner dissolved into a wrestling match on the living room carpet, the TV still on in the background. No soup was spilled, although they did lose a piece of broccoli down the back of the couch.

Max was still giggling as they did the dishes. Benji flicked bubbles at him and chased him around the kitchen, lost in his joy. Life was good. Even if this didn’t last.

The theater was surprisingly empty. Noah looked surprised when Benji mentioned this, looking around the vacant hall as they headed toward their theater.

“Weird,” Noah said. “I guess it is.”

He held out a piece of popcorn. Benji rolled his eyes and ate it off his fingers, making sure not to let his lips touch Noah’s skin.

Cool, casual. The way he might do with Daphne.

Max was right next to them, bouncing along and commenting on every single coming soon poster they passed and spilling the popcorn that Benji had bought him.

The popcorn argument had been over shockingly fast. Noah had agreed after one protest, “as long as he got to pay for Benji’s.” It made Benji suspicious. Noah was acting so damn nonchalant as they filed into the theater. Also empty.

Benji sat down in their assigned seats up top and leaned over to Noah. “Dude, this place is dead. Where is everyone?”

Noah shrugged. Before Benji could question him further, Max slung his feet up on the seat in front of him.

Benji kicked it off. “Hey! We’re in public . Get your dirty shoes off.”

Max pouted. “But we have the whole theater to ourselves!”

“There’s still the projector guy,” Benji pointed out. “And he’s trained to hunt down little shits who put their feet up on seats.”

Max rolled his eyes, slumping back in his seat. Benji huffed, then looked over to find Noah watching him, amused. Like he knew that Benji would one hundred percent have his feet up on the seat in front of him if Max wasn’t here.

The lights went dark. A logo appeared onscreen, a familiar robot with a gun.

Max whooped. “Robot Smashdown!”

A grizzled voiceover started over a nuclear wasteland. This wasn’t a trailer, Benji realized. They were going straight into the movie.

The voiceover continued, talking about a desperate battle across the stars that almost ended with the death of his second-in-command. Benji frowned. Max had dragged him to see that movie three times, and it didn’t start like this. Right? The second-in-command was alive until the last act.

Max bolted up in his seat. “IS THIS THE SEQUEL?”

Oh , Benji thought. Shit .

“Huh,” Noah said. “Look at that. I guess it is.”

Max leapt out of his seat and raced down the aisles. “IT’S NOT EVEN OUT FOR A WEEK,” he yelled as he ran. “WHAT’S HAPPENING? IS THIS ALLOWED? ARE WE GONNA GET ARRESTED?”

“No one’s getting arrested,” Benji said. “Noah, what’s going on?”

He looked over, the look on Noah’s face stopping him dumb. He was watching Benji with such tenderness that Benji thought he might be sick. The kind of sick you feel after gorging yourself after you’ve been starving.

Noah winked. Then he turned to address Max, who was alternating between speeding down the aisles and staring at the screen, stock-still.

“Everything’s fine, Max. And nobody’s coming, you can sit anywhere you want and talk as much as you like.”

“Noah,” Benji whispered. He could feel a stupid little smile on his face, even among that guilty voice that told him he didn’t deserve this. That he could never repay Noah for it.

But Max was still whooping, racing back to fling himself into his seat. “Who are you, man? How did you do this?”

“I know a guy,” Noah said simply.

Max slapped his chair excitedly, cheeks bright. He glanced over at Benji, who managed a shaky smile.

“This is the best boss you’ve ever had,” Max hissed. “Everybody shut up, this is the bit from the trailer!”

Noah shushed Benji, eyes warm.

Benji stared at him, the movie reflecting light over his beautiful face.

There was still that guilty voice in the back of his head, screaming that this was going to mess him up forever.

Noah couldn’t just… give him this. He couldn’t keep giving and giving when Benji had nothing to give but himself.

It wasn’t an even trade. Not by any margin.

He tore his gaze away from Noah, fixing it unseeingly on the screen. He wedged his hand under his leg and scratched anxiously at the seat leather. He thought he was getting away from it, but not even ten minutes had passed before Noah leaned over and whispered, “Are you feeling alright?”

“Fine,” Benji whispered back.

Noah’s finger brushed his knee. “Benjamin.”

Benji’s throat clicked. He couldn’t look at him.

If he looked at him, he would spill everything.

Noah had already taken enough. Already exposed enough.

It was wonderful while it was happening, but god , it was going to destroy him when it was over.

Noah was unzipping him, all his flimsy insides falling out.

He’d never be able to stuff them back in.

The brush turned into a press. Then a grip.

“Benjamin,” Noah repeated.

Benji gritted his teeth. “I need to use the bathroom.”

He burst into the bathroom, a laugh jolting out of him when he saw that it was empty. Of course, it was empty. Noah rented out a whole movie theater; who did that? What could he possibly do to deserve that?

The door creaked open behind him.

Benji didn’t turn around. It didn’t matter. He could see Noah’s reflection in the mirrors lining the walls.

Benji asked, “Is he?—?”

“He was annoyed we were going to miss his theory on an upcoming character death,” Noah said. “Then he shushed me. I think he’ll be okay.”

Benji laughed hoarsely. “No shit! This is the best surprise he’s ever had. I’m never gonna top this. Thanks for fucking me out of a good Christmas present.”