Francine
I’m still coming back to planet earth, nestled in his arms. We’re cuddling. I don’t care if he wants to believe it’s something else; that’s what we’re doing.
For a while there, I felt so connected to him and his vexatiously cogitating ways. It felt like we were being real together. I loved it. But then the next minute, he was Sexorator 2000, cool and smooth and uber-confident, the sexiest and most confusing being ever to walk the face of the earth.
Even so, it was hot. I’m still vibrating from the things he did to my body. And I pulled him off of it in the end. Sexorator 2000 is awesome, but Benny’s better.
I turn and look up at him. I slide my palm over his cheek. He seems so somber. “What is it?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he says.
He’s not big on introspection—James definitely had his number there. There’s clearly something on his mind, but you can’t pull it out of him. He likes to stay remote.
I’m glad he had a friend like James. There are not a lot of people in this world who can look past that resting annoyance face to see the true beauty of Benny, but James obviously did.
And the fact that Benny’s madly loyal surprises me not at all.
Will he ever find a home for Spencer? Maybe he doesn’t want to let that connection to James go. Maybe he plans to ride out his allergies. There was so much I wanted to ask him but I don’t want to push it and make him shut me out all over again.
“You want a snack?” he asks.
“Does it involve cheese and crackers?”
He’s off the couch, pulling on his clothes. “It does now.”
“Yay!” I say.
He disappears, and I reassemble myself, trying to put the least pressure on my knee, which is feeling nice and loose and nearly normal for once.