Chapter 25

HARRISON

My Benny is a fucking genius. I have a list of the weird and wonderful as long as my arm, and now that I have some direction for my capstone project, I'm jumping into stage one. Seeing if this idea holds water before I begin my project next year.

The excitement buzzing in my veins tells me that I'm on the right track. Learning about plants stimulates me, interests me, and I can never shut up about them. This idea though, it's next-level, and I can't wait to put it into practice.

"Okay, so." I pace my area of the greenhouse, loving that Benny is hanging on to my every word. That's a good first sign. "How do we test this hypothesis? I'm going to need some kind of sample audience. A control group and a test group …"

Benny's eyes glaze over.

"Don't judge me!"

He holds up his hands, clearly trying to look awake. "No judgment. I'm super interested."

I walk over to where he's sitting on the table next to my laptop and step between his legs. "Thank you."

"For?"

"Being fucking incredible and interested enough to try and help me with this?"

A little of his snark melts as he wraps his hands around my neck. "You're cute when you're being nerdy."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Why would it be anything else?" He smiles so innocently I pinch his side.

"You know, I can tell the difference between you and Em, but sometimes …" I hesitate. "I might need to start checking your hand whenever I see you as my insurance policy."

"You really think we'd switch places on you?" He looks hurt, so I hurry to clarify.

"No, like, if I want to just walk up and kiss you or grab your ass or something, I don't want to accidentally get the wrong guy. That's all."

"You mean you don't want to be the meat in a twin sandwich?"

My face twists. "What? No. Do you do that?"

Benny snickers. "Never. But we've been asked a lot, and I wanted to make sure that wasn't on your mind."

"Ah. Well, no. You're safe." I lean in, brushing my mouth over his before pushing my tongue inside. Fuck, it feels good to be able to kiss him when I want to. I'm still waiting for that moment to hit, the one where I realize being in a relationship isn't for me, but thankfully, nothing yet. Every day I'm more excited to see him than the last one. With our class work, and Benny's frat duties, and spending time with our friends, we don't get to catch up every day, and on the days I don't see him, it makes me grumpy. Full days like this are rare.

"As soon as we're done here, you're coming home with me," I tell him.

"Finally!" Benny goes to jump off the table, but I hold him firm.

"Not now. When we're finished. I'm not finished."

Benny makes a sound of protest before giving in. "Fine. What are we doing?"

"Figuring out a way to test your sex-sells theory."

"Isn't me being a thousand percent more interested proof enough?"

"Nope. Sorry, babe, but it's a thing in science. You need a decent sample size, otherwise it could be a fluke." Still between his legs, I slide my laptop around to face us, then type in "group research ideas."

Benny looks around the room instead. "Why don't you do something here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's a greenhouse. Sure, pictures of those things are cool, and you could show people a slideshow all day long, but imagine having them actually here?"

"The plants?"

"Yes! Those ones that smell like a decaying body would be a real draw card."

I laugh into his shoulder. "Or make everyone evacuate the scene."

"Come on. Seeing them in person would be so much cooler."

"You have a point." I rub my jaw. "I'd have to source them all though, then organize the event—what kind would I even do? Like an expo type of thing?"

"A dinner."

I blink at him. "That sounds like a lot of work."

"Maybe, but people love them. The NHL does it all the time. A charity dinner to get people in the door, charge them a per-plate cost, and then get them to empty their pockets."

That sounds … ambitious. "I was thinking more two groups, one shown everyday plants and one shown the kinds we looked up today?—"

He makes a buzzer sound. "How do you measure that?"

"A simple ‘does this interest you' quiz."

"While that sounds sufficiently stiff and boring, you're better than that. Your whole appeal is your personality?—"

"Thanks."

He waves me off. "You're hot too, obviously, but you're the kind of person people are drawn to. You want people to care about plants? You need to be the one making them. And how better to make people pay attention to what you're doing than by money? Money talks. I see it in hockey all the time. They plaster dollar figures all over their social medias, like those numbers mean anything."

"So, I have a dinner for an environmental charity?" I'm not really asking, just talking through it. "I could reach out and see if anyone is interested in helping. Try to get plants here. Hit up Professor Nottering to see if I can hold it in the greenhouse. Maybe I can get a not-for-profit on board …"

"See?" Benny squeezes me. "You're way too much of a personality to do some basic test."

"Only problem is that for this to work, I'd have to throw two dinners. Otherwise, the results are inconclusive."

"You're telling me there have never been charity events for the environment before now?"

He's right. Maybe if I can match up what I'm doing with one of those, it'll hold enough weight for passable results. After all, this doesn't have to be a perfect experiment. It's preliminary, a way for me to test whether this is the thing I want to be completing my capstone project on.

"This is good," I say. "This is really good."

I want to ask him if he'll help me with it, if he can be a part of my team with getting this organized, but I hold off. Benny has more than enough on his plate with his schoolwork, and that was before he had to take statistics for himself.

If I'm honest, it's something I do feel bad about. It's clear he struggles with it and isn't happy, but it's not like I could pretend not to know while he gets a degree thanks to his brother's hard work. It's unethical. Even if I really, really hate seeing him struggle in class and want to fix it all for him.

I move toward a pad of paper and a pen to jot myself out a list before I forget it all.

"How long have we been here?" he asks, looking toward the wall at where the sun is sinking in an orange display.

"Not sure. What's the time?"

"My phone's died." Considering he only got it back from being fixed a few days ago, I'm not surprised he forgot.

"Clock's over there." I point toward the far wall behind me.

Benny doesn't answer, and after a couple of moments, I glance up to find him staring toward where I pointed. He looks confused, but when I follow his gaze, the clock is right where I thought it was.

"You okay?"

He snaps out of whatever that was and grins. "Be better if we were back at your place already."

As much as that distracts me, I also can't shake that something … isn't right. "What time is it?"

Benny points at the clock. "Right over there, remember?"

My gaze swings from him and over to the clock again. Is he … No. There's no way Benny doesn't know how to tell the time. I'm torn between pushing him to read it out for me and letting it go, but it all comes down to the fact that I don't want to make him uncomfortable.

"Silly me," I say, trying to shake the feeling. But the clock reminds me of the baking soda spray and the measurements for our dinner. I know Benny said he struggles with math because he's never had to do it, but that much? Time is something you learn in, like, second grade, right?

Benny's behind, but he's not that behind. I can't imagine there were a lot of opportunities to switch classes in primary school.

Most likely scenario is that he zoned out.

"Past seven," I mutter, and Benny nods like he knew that all along. I can't shake the feeling that I don't believe it though. "We got here around two."

"Cool."

"Then we've been here …" I don't know why I do it. Trail off like that. Like I can't do a simple subtraction, but I wait for Benny to fill in the blanks.

He doesn't.

Just gazes at me like he's waiting.

I swallow, feeling like I've taken a wrong step somewhere. "Five hours. We've been here five hours."

"Oh, shit."

The genuine surprise in his tone doesn't help things.

"I had no idea it had been that long." He jumps off where he's sitting on the table. "I've gotta study for this stupid test tomorrow."

"The one in statistics?"

"Yep." He doesn't sound like he's dreading it, so that's promising.

"Want some help?"

"Nah, you have your own stuff to do. Em will be home, so he'll help me go over it all."

I hate that I took up all of his time though. "Fuck, I'm sorry. You shouldn't have been here helping me when you have your own stuff going on."

"Yeah, no." He steps closer, wrapping one of his hands around mine. "I like helping you."

"That sounds like a lie."

"Normally it would be, but if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't know about the vagina plant."

I beg for patience. "For the last time, it's called a Hydnora."

"I can guarantee if you call it a vagina plant at your dinner, the men will suddenly develop deep pockets."

"And now I'm picturing someone trying to stick their dick in …" I shudder at the imagery.

He pecks me on the lips. "My work here is done. Enjoy."

"You're really going to leave me like that?"

Benny rubs his hand over where my dick is, shamefully, a little hard. "You really do love plants."

"What do I see in you?" It's a rhetorical question, but of course, he answers.

"A hot guy with a big cock."

I catch him before he can leave, feeling all fluttery with him beside me. "You are so much more than that."