Page 63 of The Gaybor War

"That's not what I⁠—"

"No, no. Don't ruin it. Let me have this."

Carter closes his eyes briefly, inhaling a deep, patient breath. "I'm serious, Benji."

The teasing fades from my smile. "I know."

He studies me for a moment, waiting for the punchline. There isn't one.

"Okay," I say quietly. "No spectacle."

Some of the tension leaves his shoulders.

"Although," I add thoughtfully, "we should probably define spectacle."

Carter points at me immediately. "No."

"Because my interpretation and your interpretation could vary wildly."

"Benji."

A reluctant smile threatens the corner of his mouth. I watch it happen, the way his body relaxes before his mind catches up. That, right there, is my favorite thing about him. The reckless streak that breaks free from the staunch, organized part of him that always dominates his personality. The part so opposite of me.

"No announcements," he says.

"Fine."

"No hinting."

"Rude."

"No letting Candace 'accidentally' find out."

I place a hand over my heart. "The fact that you think I'd manipulate Candace is honestly insulting."

Carter just looks at me.

I sigh. "Okay, that's fair."

"Benji."

"I'm listening."

His expression softens. "I just want a chance to figure this out."

The honesty in his voice steals every smart-ass response I have. "You have one."

Something warm settles between us. Not the frantic spark from before.

Better. Steadier. Like we're finally standing on the same side of something.

We finish what we pretended we were doing. The shirt. The stain. Domestic nonsense as a lifeline. I pretend not to watch the way his forearms tense and flex, highlighting every vein and tendon. He pretends not to notice me pretending.

He reaches for the door, then hesitates. "Hey, Benji?"

"Yeah?"

His eyes meet mine. Warm. Certain. A little terrified.