Page 69 of The Gaybor War

"I like you," he says simply. "That hasn’t changed.”

My pulse kicks.

"And I'm happy to let you move at your speed." Benji's smile softens. "But I'm not great at pretending I don’t want what I want, and I’m not interested in chasing someone who's already standing right here."

The words land sharper than lawn darts.

I swallow. "Benji⁠—"

He shakes his head. "I'm not asking for an answer tonight."

Which immediately tells me I was about to give him one.

"I'm just being honest." His gaze holds mine. "You get to decide what you want, Carter. I just figured you should know what I want." He winks and slides his sunglasses back into place. "You'll figure it out."

His tone is easy, but there's something steady underneath it. A confidence I don't have. Then he takes a step backward.

"I'll see you around."

And just like that, he walks away. I stand there like an idiot, watching him go.

The thing is, I expected pursuit. Banter. Pressure disguised as charm. I expected Benji to keep pushing until I decided what this was.

Instead, he handed me the decision and walked away. The safety net was imaginary. And for the first time since I met him, I realize Benji Stewart isn't asking me to choose him.

He's just asking me to choose.

The next day, the universe decides to pile on.

An email hits my inbox mid-morning: URGENT—Food Truck Rodeo Vendor Issue. Apparently one of the trucks double-booked and Eunice is beside herself. I’m CC’d because I’m a block captain now. God help me.

The meeting is at the clubhouse. When I walk in, Benji is already there.

He’s standing at the whiteboard, sleeves rolled, hair styled back, focused as he neatly rewrites the vendor roster in sharp, precise handwriting.

Professional. Efficient. Distractingly attractive.

He doesn’t look surprised to see me.

"Carter." He nods. "Thanks for coming."

His tone is so measured I’m irrationally disappointed by it.

We sit on opposite sides of the table while Benji runs the meeting with crisp authority, assigning tasks and resolving the vendor issue in under twenty minutes. He’s good at this. Better than I would have guessed.

When Eunice asks for vendor recommendations, I glance down at the attendance sheets.

"The Thai truck had significantly higher attendance and better resident feedback," I point out. "It makes more sense to prioritize them over barbecue if we need a replacement."

"Interesting," Benji says.

I glance up. He’s watching me with perfect composure, one elbow resting on the table.

I continue, ignoring him. "The resident surveys specifically cited menu variety and shorter wait times."

"Interesting."

He doesn’t sound dismissive, exactly. Just detached enough to make me wonder if he’s even listening. I keep talking, partly because the data matters and partly because I want his attention badly enough to resent it.