Benji

I was exhausted. For the past three days I’d been working 9 – 2 and it had been completely chaotic. There was always a continuous stream of people in the door, all ordering coffees and asking for food, and at times it was really overwhelming. I mean, I was still fairly new to this job, so it wasn’t surprising that I messed up. A lot. And often.

If I wasn’t making peoples’ coffees wrong, I was spilling everything – sugar jars, coffee jars, milk, somehow I even poured boiling hot water over my hand, resulting in four rather sore, burnt fingers. It was a complete mess, and every day I’d get home and lock myself in my room and just sleep.

Thursday rolled around and I was so happy when, by lunch time, we’d only had a handful of customers.

“This is more like it,” I commented, leaning against the counter and surveying the empty shop.

Priscilla laughed. “Most definitely. I mean, heaps of customers mean heaps of money, but then most of that money is used to replace what you spill.”

I scoffed. “I didn’t spill that much.”

“Yeah, you did,” she replied, before asking, “how’s your hand?”

I shrugged, holding it up. The backs of all four fingers on my left hand were red and stung when I moved them. It wasn’t that bad, it was more of a hassle than anything else.

“That looks sore.” She reached out and took my hand in her smaller one, attempting to pull me closer to examine it.

I immediately froze up. Priscilla is a good friend of mine and we’ve known each other for a while, but I just didn’t feel comfortable with her holding my hand. It was too intimate, and the way she was looking up at me through her eyelashes just didn’t seem right.

I winced and pulled my hand away, pretending that it hurt so much more than it actually did. I felt guilty, especially when I saw the look on her face as I moved away, but I couldn’t bring myself to apologise or explain. It was easier to have her think that my hand just really hurt rather than have to delve into how uncomfortable I felt, which would probably lead to an awkward atmosphere.

Priscilla apologised, immediately and profusely.

I told her I was fine, and I told her my hand was fine, but she insisted that I take the rest of the afternoon off anyway, which I really wasn’t going to argue with.

*

As soon as I saw Benji and Kyle walking out of their school, I knew there was something wrong. Kyle was walking slowly, dragging his feet and hiding his face with his hair. His shoulders were slumped and he was practically ignoring Benji, who trailed along behind him. When they reached the car I was surprised to see that Kyle got into the back, leaving Benji to sit in the passenger seat.

When nobody spoke, I turned to Benji.

“What’s with him?” I asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” Benji replied, whispering so that Kyle wouldn’t hear.

I shrugged and began to drive home. A small part of me was worried about Kyle, but at the same time, he was my brother, and I knew that it was most likely something silly that he’d get over pretty soon. Another part of me was preoccupied with the fact that, if Kyle was sulking, he’d probably go straight up to his room, leaving me alone with Benji.

When we got home, as predicted, Kyle rushed from the car, storming inside and slamming the door behind him.

I turned to Benji with my eyebrows raised.

He giggled. “It’s not that bad,” he said as we got out of the car.

I hurried over to him and took his backpack from his hands before he could put it on his back. He looked up at me with a blush on his cheeks before continuing.

“Uh… This girl, Melissa. He asked her out and she said no.”

“Really? Just flat out said no?”

“Well… She actually said ‘I don’t know you’, but Kyle took it as a no.”

I laughed and put Benji’s bag at the bottom of the stairs, before going through to the kitchen and offering him a drink.

“Just apple juice, please,” he requested, seating himself at the table.

I watched him as I got his drink. He had his hands on the table in front of him, fidgeting with his fingers. His blond hair hung in front of his eyes and every so often he’d peer up at me through it.

“You alright?” I asked, sitting down opposite him.

He looked up at me and his blue eyes were shy as he nodded. “I’m good,” he said, a dusting of pink on his cheeks.

I chuckled and continued to watch him as we sat there. There was something so childlike and pure about him, in the way that he played with his fingers, and bit his lip after taking a sip of his drink. In the way that he blushed and looked away whenever I caught him looking at me.

He was absolutely adorable.

After a while, I realised how creepy I was, and I looked down, playing with my own fingers as my insecurities got to me. Really, what was I doing? It was so inappropriate for me to be pursuing Benji, if you could even say that that was what I was doing. He was my brother’s best friend, not to mention younger than me. I really just had to stop.

“That looks sore.”

My head shot up to see that he was gesturing toward the burnt fingers that I was absentmindedly rubbing at.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” I stuttered, as he reached across the table to stop me from irritating the burn further. “I spilt some hot water.”

He frowned. “Do you have any aloe vera gel?”

“Nah, it’ll be alright.”

Benji stood up suddenly, only just taller than me even when I was sitting. “No, come on,” he said forcefully. “We’re putting some gel on that.” He took my unburnt hand in his smaller, warmer hand, and dragged me from my house.

“Benji, it’s not that bad,” I protested, at the same time tightening my grip on his hand.

“I don’t care,” he muttered as we ran down the road, and I thought he added, “It’s still hurting you,” but I must have heard him wrong.

We got to his house and he screamed a hello to Carl as he pulled me upstairs and into the bathroom. I leant against the sink as he rifled through the cupboard. When he found what he was looking for he held out his hand, a pleading look in his eyes.

“Please may I see your hand?” He asked, and how could I refuse him when he asked so sweetly.

I placed my burnt fingers in his hand and he squirted some clear gel onto them before beginning to rub it in. It was cold and soothing, but what was even more comforting was the simple feeling of Benji’s skin against mine. His hands were small and soft, and his touch set my stomach aflutter.

I looked up to study his face as he massaged the gel into my skin. His inky lashes were long, almost femininely so, and I longed for them to lift so I could catch even just a glimpse of his gorgeous blue eyes. I can’t even explain how his eyes made me feel, how he made me feel. And it wasn’t anything sexual, nothing like that. It was butterflies in my stomach, a tingling whenever our skin touched, and an intense need to just wrap my arms around his small frame and hold him forever.

“Benji.” I wasn’t even aware that his name left my lips until it had already been said.

He finally looked up at me, his blue eyes wide with interest. A light pink dusted his cheeks and his lips were slightly parted. His hands stopped their movement on mine but he didn’t let go, and for that I was grateful because what I was going to do next would be ruined by distance.

I moved closer, my mind racing as his breath ghosted across my skin. I ignored the thoughts begging to be heard, choosing instead to focus on the adorable boy in front of me. He dropped my hand, his fingers moving to grab at the front of my shirt.

I leant down to overcome the difference in height, grasping him by the hips.

He was so close. Blue eyes surrounded by inky lashes, pink cheeks and pink lips. All I could see, all I could smell was Benji. He was pressed flush against me, his warm breath hitting my lips and my God, I just wanted to kiss him.

“Benji!”

I froze at the sudden voice and footsteps, internally cursing whoever had ruined the moment. Benji untangled his fingers from the fabric of my shirt, his hair falling into his face as he peered around me.

“Uh, Benji, your mother’s on the phone.”

His head bowed, Benji shuffled around me and whispered his thanks to his uncle. I heard his footsteps move off down the hall.

I stood there, frozen, for a few minutes. Either I’d just completely ruined everything or… no, I’d definitely ruined everything. There was no way we could be friends without it being completely awkward, and Benji’s reluctance to make any moves told me that he wasn’t interested. Which I knew. I knew that. I’d always known that he wasn’t interested, and yet I’d acted upon my urges anyway.

With a groan of frustration, I turned and punched the wall. Unfortunately, I was in a bathroom, and the walls were tiled.

“Motherf – !” I started to yell when the hard tile bruised my knuckles, but was stopped from finishing my curse when someone cleared their throat behind me.

I turned to see Benji’s uncle, Carl, standing in the doorway with his eyebrows raised. He chuckled at the no doubt surprised look on my face.

“Uh… sorry, about that,” I stammered. “I should, um, probably go.”

He just watched with an amused smile as I sidled past him and made my way out of his house. I paused at the top of the stairs, however, and turned back, muttering a few words before fleeing.

“Could you please tell Benji that I… Just, tell him I’m sorry.”