Page 27 of Sour Candy (Sour Candy #1)

Benji groaned. Suddenly, it was all spilling out, every pathetic thing he’d been holding onto since he started seeing Noah all those weeks ago.

How he always cleaned Benji up after sex and checked in whenever he noticed Benji looking uncomfortable.

Learned Benji’s coffee order. Cut a sandwich into triangles instead of squares when Benji mentioned he preferred it that way.

Asked after Max and actually seemed to give a shit about the answer.

Actually seemed to give a shit about Benji , a fact that was starting to sink through all of Benji’s beeping bullshit alarms.

Daphne was beaming by the end of it, hands clasped under her chin. “Ben! I’m so happy for you! You guys sound like you really have something!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Benji sucked on his cigarette and frowned as he realized it had burned to the filter while he was ranting. He ground it out under his boot.

“And he’s so generous ,” Daphne continued. “Remember my last one? Stingiest daddy I ever had. Ugh .”

“You should’ve dumped him after that gift voucher to Crab Shack.”

Daphne giggled. “Seriously, though. I’m really happy for you. To be honest, I thought you’d last three dates and tell the guy to go fuck himself.”

Benji stared at her. “You’re the one who told me?—”

“You don’t have the sugar temperament! You said it yourself! You needed money fast, that’s the only way I know! And I don’t know, I thought it could finally get you out of your own head about sex.”

“I don’t know if I could’ve gone through with it if it wasn’t him,” Benji admitted in a rush. “If it was some guy I had to fake laugh for. I did need the money, but… I don’t know. I would’ve sworn at someone else. They couldn’t make me… easy.”

He swallowed, nicotine and vodka and shame and excitement all tangling together on his tongue.

He’d given it up so fast . Barely even put up a fight.

He’d let Noah do everything he wanted—he’d been eager for it.

When Noah told him, “Come here,” Benji did.

When Noah said, “Don’t come,” Benji didn’t.

When Noah said, “Say you’re gorgeous,” Benji did.

Offering himself up, every single piece.

The bar door swung open, slamming off the alleyway wall loud enough to make them both jump.

Heather Michaelangelo Freak leaned out. “Daph! There you are! Come on, they finally let us put the pinata up.”

“One second,” Daphne called back. She turned to Benji, eyes big and pleading again.

Benji sighed. “I’ll be there in a second.”

Daphne took it as the dismissal that it was. She kissed his cheek, then darted for the door. She’d learned pretty early on that Benji needed a lot of alone time at parties, or he turned into even more of a dick than usual.

“Hope your daddy boyfriend texts,” she called.

“Not my boyfriend,” Benji yelled back.

The bar door closed. Benji rested his head against the alley wall, wanting another cigarette. Remembering why he quit after his first pack at fifteen: because he liked it so much. He’d finished that first one and thought, huh. I could get addicted to this.

A smug voice echoed down the alley. “Yeah, that really didn’t sound like a boyfriend situation.”

Benji spun around with a swear.

Dillion Thomas stood at the end of the alley, hands in his pockets. His frat boy hair was even bigger than usual, and his shirt collar popped. There was a dark stain on his shirt, and his eyes were glazed. Whatever he was on, it was hitting hard .

Benji glowered. “Fuck off, Dillion.”

Dillion laughed. He stepped forward. “Just hanging. No law against it. Unlike what you’re doing, sugar .”

Benji’s hackles went up. He planted his feet, adrenaline already surging through him. He knew what a guy looked like when he wanted to cause trouble. Dillion was trouble in a too-tight polo shirt.

“Fuck off,” he spat.

“Jeeeesus. Calm down ! I don’t know how he puts up with you. So growly.” Dillion kept walking toward him, too steady for Benji’s liking. He was tipsy, sure, but Benji would prefer him floppy and wasted. Wasted guys were easier fights.

Dillion whispered, “So what does it take to tame Benji Caulfield?”

Benji hadn’t fought anyone since high school. But the predatory look on Dillion’s smarmy face made him think this might be the night.

“Don’t make me beat the shit out of you,” he warned.

Dillion sniggered. He leaned on the wall, close enough to reach out and touch him. “I gotta say, I really want to see what that looks like.”

“Me beating the shit out of you?”

“You being easy .” Dillion grinned. “Does he slap you around? Is that what it takes?”

Benji growled. Properly, like a cornered dog. “Do you think I’m kidding?”

“No,” Dillion continued, stepping so close that Benji’s skin crawled. “Wait, what am I saying? He’s nice to you. That’s his thing. Mr. Nice Guy, making you sandwiches. Pretending to give a shit so you’ll give it up.”

Dillion bit his lip, gaze dropping down to Benji’s lips.

Benji went cold. He hadn’t felt this small in a long time.

Helpless . Then, just as fast as the cold fear entered him, it was flooded out by a white-hot rage.

This asshole thought he could corner him and say this shit?

Like hell. People avoided Benji for a reason , and it wasn’t because he lay down and took shit.

Dillion continued, “Really didn’t expect that from you, man.”

Benji shoved him up against the wall, an arm braced over his chest.

Dillion grunted, the noise punching out of him. For a moment, he just stood there, mouth open, the drunkenness finally showing through. Then he blinked, his smile crawling back.

“Okay,” he crowed, delighted. “Is this what he likes?”

Benji shook him. “Shut the FUCK up. You don’t know me. I will kick your fucking teeth in before you can say?—”

A second voice echoed down the alleyway. The voice that had taken Benji apart. The only voice he’d be easy for.

“Benjamin.”