Page 16 of Smart Ass

“Evan’s my best friend.” The words sounded flat and dumb.

What was he supposed to say now? “We met in middle school.” He huffed. He could still remember Evan, all awkward with his nerdy bookbag, braces, and terrible haircut, and that made it hurt more. “I was sitting alone at the cafeteria table and Evan was the only one dumb enough to sit down next to the punk goth kid without any friends. I called him farm boy, ’cause he’d just moved to the city, even though he was from the burbs.” Ben shook his head. “I thought I’d scare him off but he kind of… stayed.”

God, could he sound any more pathetic?

And was this even working? Was Max feeling anything, or was Ben just stupidly talking to himself?

Max didn’t speak, so Ben tried to think of something else. “Did you know he was the first person I came out to? He knew I was trans for a whole year before I told my parents. I finally had to when I started growing hips and chest bumps, and I threatened them into getting me on hormone blockers. But Evan was the one who went with me to the thrift store to buy clothes.”

Ben sniffed. Fuck, he was more pathetic than he thought. He just wanted Evan to be alright. “He’s like… the angel sitting on my shoulder, you know? I tutored him every night because I knew where I wanted to go to college, and I wanted him to go with me. We roomed together. We used to get so wasted together. Well, mostly I got wasted and Evan dragged me home before I could do anything stupid. He was always stupid about men, but I was stupid about everything. He’s been to all my graduations.”

Ben knew he wasn’t making any sense, but he was trying.

“Did you date?” Max asked, almost robotically unemotional.

Ahhhh… Ben was going crazy. Was that curiosity? Jealousy? Or just the logical next question?

Ben still answered. “God, no! He’s like my brother. We tried kissing once and it was Twilight Zone weird. Do-do, do-do, do-do, do-do… Or like, the butt of some bad joke about two subs without a Dom. I’m just glad he has Quincy now. That’s the first decent guy he’s ever dated, and he deserves the best boyfriend ever. Oh, god, I hope they’re both okay.”

Ben wrapped his arms around himself. Usually he was the chillest dude on earth—at least externally—but he was way out of his depth here.

Jumping off the school roof in high school? Easy. Rigging the football captain’s locker with an open bucket of paint after he’d called Evan names? No problem. Hacking into the college database to change a friend’s grade after a professor screwed her over? It was a thrill. Bar fights? Fuck yeah.

The difference was that in all of those situations, Ben had been the one in danger. He didn’t know what to do when it was someone else.

“Do you think they’ll be okay?” Ben asked, not really expecting an answer, but hoping for one anyway.

“I have news,” Max replied. “Evan’s file has been updated. His kidneys are bruised, and they expect him to have blood in his urine. They’re checking for a concussion, so he’s only allowed over-the-counter pain medication. They’re going to keep him in the hospital for observation for at least two days, or until his urine is clear. He doesn’t appear to have any broken bones, but they’ll do x-rays to confirm.”

Ben collapsed forward. “Oh, thank god.” It was like his lungs could expand again. His muscles could relax. Bruised kidneys and a concussion sounded sucky, but totally survivable. Ben would just hang out at the hospital twenty-four/seven and bring Evan contraband food until he could go home.

“I’m having trouble getting a report on Quincy,” Max continued, “since the police haven’t filed anything yet. Oh… wait. I found a different access point. They’ve removed the takeover mod, and he seems to be alert and aware. They’re waiting for someone to get there to question him.”

Ben felt himself nodding, bobbing his head after each new piece of information, like he was sucking them into his soul. “Alright, alright. That’s fine. Parts can be replaced. I’ll get him the best of everything.” Something he could do, at last. He’d get Quincy the best fucking parts on the market.

But he still heard himself asking, “So they’re both going to be okay?”

“They’re both going to be okay,” Max echoed back, but with conviction. His voice was like a warm blanket, wrapped around Ben’s shoulders.

Although… Ben’s back actually was warmer. Which meant… the seat warmer was on, cozy and comforting. Had Ben turned it on accidentally, or was that Max?

Fuck. Ben was going insane. “Did you turn on my seat warmer?”

“Yes.”

Well, that helped. “Why?”

“So your body would be warm.”

Fuck a duck. “How are you doing on that data collection, Maxy? Any progress?”

“Results remain inconclusive. You should call Wally to tell him you’ll be coming in late.”

Well, that was a diversion tactic if he’d ever heard one.

Almost like, say, a spark who wanted to manipulate someone instead of just answering the damn question.

Or an AI whose programming was less predictable in a new setting, and was prioritizing different commands at unexpected times.