Some Assembly Required (21 page)

“Drink the milk, Patrick. You have more than enough for one more bowl of cereal.”

He watched her smile finally fade as her body dematerialized into trails of vapor, vanishing through the ethereal breeze.

Patrick remained in the silence and savored the solace.

His body tingled with the cooling tranquil salve of the mending energies on his soul. Spitting an infantile chuckle like a fourteen-year-old boy, he got the joke.

The Impression had been his lucky charm, reminding him Benji was magically delicious.

Kissing Patrick left Benji breathless, which was interesting in more ways than one. Most intriguingly, he didn’t need to breathe, not really. So how could he be breathless? The same principle held for the way Patrick made Benji’s heart race. A curiosity, to be sure, because his heart didn’t actually beat in the first place. It could be a psychological thing, some remnant of his humanity so ingrained that he felt the sensations even though it wasn’t actually happening, simply because he was used to his heart racing and his breath going funny when he was kissing someone.

Except he’d never felt anything quite like this. His lungs burned and his heart raced as he focused on the soft slide of Patrick’s lips over his own. Patrick’s tongue sweeping into his mouth felt far more intimate than any kiss had before. Even Charles hadn’t been able to make Benji’s knees weak and his breath catch with just a kiss, and he’d loved Charles more than he’d thought possible.

Patrick dipped his hand below Benji’s waistband, and Benji’s breath hitched again. As their make-out sessions grew more frequent, it was getting harder and harder—pun intended—to keep things strictly above the belt. Benji was starting to think he’d severely underestimated Patrick’s stubbornness and his own willpower.

Patrick had told him a little bit about Alec since their movie date. Enough that Benji could see that Patrick was trying, but not enough to make Benji comfortable with playing out any of Patrick’s increasingly filthy suggestions. It turned out that Patrick not only had a talent for dirty talk, he also had a lot of interesting and sometimes concerning ideas about the role different CASA furniture pieces could play in their lovemaking. Benji was only sure he was joking half the time.

Patrick teased his fingers lower, dipping under the edge of the Under Armour boxers Benji had chosen for today. He’d never actually worn any in life, but they’d looked comfortable and sexy in the ads he’d seen. He had no idea if that was actually true or not, but his mental approximation of them was plenty comfy.

He let his hand slip away from where it had been caressing the skin between Patrick’s shoulder blades, trailing his fingertips down the warm, firm skin of Patrick’s back and leaving goose bumps in their wake.

He closed his fingers around Patrick’s wrist and tugged gently, dislodging his hand. Patrick groaned in frustration and let his head thunk against Benji’s chest. His temple caught Benji’s collarbone, sending a sharp-sore ripple of energy up Benji’s shoulder and down his arm. He shivered. It was almost as good as an orgasm, and Patrick was wickedly good at inciting it.

“You have to stop doing that,” Benji said when he’d gotten his breath back.

“Stop cockblocking me and I will,” Patrick said, his signature smirk firmly in place.

It was quickly becoming an old argument, and Benji fell into the rhythm of it easily.

“Tell me all about Alec, then.”

Patrick stuck his tongue out. “He was a guy. His name started with an
A
and ended with a
C
,” he said flatly.

Benji watched as Patrick rolled off the GORZENTE they’d been lying on and starfished on the short-fibered SFOCATO rug underneath it. The store would be opening any minute, so even if Benji hadn’t called their make-out session quits because of Patrick’s wandering hands, they’d have had to stop soon anyway.

Patrick liked to tease him about his discomfort with fooling around in front of customers who couldn’t see him anyway, but Benji didn’t care how illogical it was. It just felt wrong. Besides, once the doors opened and the customers started pouring in, the Impressions would start materializing too. And they actually could see them, and that was some messed-up shit.

Benji heard the telltale squeak of a poorly oiled cart wheel making its way down the aisle. He rolled to his side and watched as Patrick blinked one eye open and glared in the direction of the noise.

“I love the smell of CASA in the morning,” Patrick said as he sat up and rolled his neck, stretching.

Benji was starting to regret introducing Patrick to Netflix. In addition to burning through a good portion of the movies he’d missed out on, Patrick had started watching older favorites too. They were going to have to start torrenting things soon if Patrick didn’t slow down. If Benji didn’t kill him for his new propensity to speak in bad movie quotes, that was.

“Okay, Lieutenant Kilgore, let’s go,” he said, hauling himself up.

They didn’t save a customer’s life every day, but Benji liked to spend at least a few hours a day out with the crowds. It helped him remember what it was like to be alive, back when his biggest problem might be CASA not having enough PULITO boxes in stock in the color that coordinated with his classroom.

But between helping Impressions get their messages across to the living and helping lost children find their parents, Benji was able to keep himself pretty busy. But by far the best part of his day was hanging out with Patrick in their new morning ritual. They’d part ways in a bit and go about doing their own thing, but for the next hour or so, Patrick was his.

Patrick stood up and stretched again, revealing a sliver of belly that was deliciously sprinkled with hair. Benji couldn’t tear his eyes away from Patrick’s treasure trail, something that definitely didn’t escape Patrick’s notice from the way he winked at Benji.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” Patrick said with a lascivious smile. “You just say the word.”

Benji smiled sweetly. “Alec.”

Patrick’s nose wrinkled in annoyance. “Not that word. So I take it you don’t want to join me for a shower before our date, then?”

God, did he. But the thought of Patrick naked and wet was more than Benji could handle this early in the morning.

“Coffee,” he said, shaking his head.

“Spoilsport,” Patrick teased. He pulled his borrowed CASA shirt up to his nose and sniffed. “I’ve got to hit up Lost and Found at the very least. This is rank.”

“Why don’t you just materialize something for yourself?”

He changed his own clothes to illustrate the point. The jeans were modeled after a pair he’d seen on a customer a few days ago, tight enough that they made Patrick’s eyes linger on the man’s ass as he’d walked by. From the strangled sound Patrick made, he liked them just as much on Benji.

Patrick heaved a put-upon sigh and scrunched up his face again, with an expression too overdone to actually be taken for concentration. Nothing happened.

“Can’t.”

“Won’t,” Benji countered. He’d heard Patrick’s reasoning for his inability to change his clothes at will, and it was bullshit. Patrick had a complicated explanation that involved conservation of matter and the frequency that particles vibrated at, but really it came down to belief. He didn’t believe he could do it because it was counter to the laws of science. Laws that had been the most important thing in Patrick’s life before, well, his death. “You can eat, and that doesn’t make sense. You can teleport.”

“Different things, darling,” Patrick said, his voice singsong. “If you’re not joining me for that shower, then I’ll go help myself to some new clothes. Maybe Tommy finally washed his uniform shirts and restocked his locker. I like his stuff better than Lost and Found. He uses Tide. Meet you in ten.”

He was gone before Benji could reply, leaving Benji standing alone and shaking his head.

The day was in full swing, CASA shoppers filtering through the store with rapidly filling carts and eager expressions. He’d seen three people in Santa hats and Ugg boots a few days ago, but today everyone was wearing tank tops and flip-flops. He looked down at his feet, frowning. He’d never tried to change his shoes. A blink later he was wearing the comfortable pair of Havaianas he’d last seen in his closet. They were molded to his feet perfectly from years of wear. Even though he knew they were just a manifestation of his ghostly energies, part of him still believed they were the real thing. He lifted his foot, grinning when he saw the splash of orange paint that had never fully worn off the bottom of the left sole.

Benji listened to the reassuring slap of the familiar shoes against the tile as he made his way to the employee lounge. He could teleport, but it was a room off the locker room, and he didn’t want to chance popping in and seeing Patrick naked. Not with his blood still thrumming from their early morning make-out session and the teasing banter that felt a lot like foreplay these days.

The café was the obvious choice for their morning coffee dates, except for the fact that they couldn’t actually drink coffee there. Not during business hours, anyway. The living could see objects they picked up, so it made sense that they’d probably be able to see coffee cups hanging in midair. And now that Benji could actually drink it, he wasn’t content with just sitting there and smelling it like Patrick often did when he spent hours on end up in the cafeteria doing God only knew what with the strange old man who was there almost every day.

So that left the employee lounge, where a pot of burnt coffee was almost always on the warmer. They timed their dates for an hour or so after the morning shift started, too early for any employees to be on break or for the next shift to be milling around, killing time before hitting the floor.

And if anyone did happen to walk in while they were there—well, it wouldn’t be the worst thing. Benji was starting to feel sorry for Tommy, who Patrick tormented mercilessly. Benji had overheard more than a few of the employees talking about how crazy he was, since Tommy insisted the CASA was haunted. Maybe someone else walking in and seeing two coffee cups floating in midair would help him. Despite being a nervous kid, HR sure did promote him quickly. It seemed just last week was his first week, now he was among management. It was a little sad that he was the manager
every
employee talked about for his… eccentricities.

“…but they only have it in the pine color, and everything else in her room is white.”

Benji tripped over his flip-flop, startled by the sound of a voice he hadn’t heard in months. A voice he’d assumed—hell, more like hoped—he’d never hear again, and that was before he’d died.

“Well, whose fault is that? I wanted the cherry crib, but you insisted on the white finish.”

Benji didn’t recognize the other voice, but he couldn’t help himself, inching forward toward the children’s furniture department. He doubted Charles had ever set foot in a CASA before, let alone the children’s department. He’d hated all of Benji’s CASA furniture, and he also hated kids.

“White is timeless. And the cherry was too heavy for her room. We agreed.”

The defensive lilt to Charles’s voice was so familiar that Benji didn’t have to be close enough to see his face to know that Charles’s lip was curling upward. Still, Benji sneaked closer, popping his head around a hanging display of puppets so he could peer over the aisle divider.

Charles looked tanned and healthy. Even with the unmistakable look of annoyance on his face, his classic features were gorgeous. He looked like he’d gained a little weight, and his glossy dark hair was flecked with gray, but the overall effect was distinguished. Benji snorted, wondering if Charles had dyed his hair to make himself look more professorial. It was definitely something his vain ex-boyfriend would do.

But shopping in a CASA? Out of character for the man who’d insisted on an $8,000 sofa that had been as ugly as it was uncomfortable. The same went for arguing in public. Charles was nothing if not obsessed with his image, which meant biting condescension in public, not fighting. That always came later, after they’d gotten into the car, when he’d unleash on Benji, criticizing him for whatever social faux pas or imagined misstep he thought Benji had made. So who was this guy he was with, and why were they arguing in the middle of a bunch of pint-sized dressers?

Benji nearly had a heart attack when Charles looked up. He ducked down, hiding behind the puppet castle before realizing that even if he looked directly at him, Charles wouldn’t be able to see him. His slouching and covert creeping had been totally unnecessary. Though some habits, like assuming people could see you, were hard to break.

He straightened and walked into the aisle, coming as close as he dared to Charles and the other man. They were dressed almost alike, button-down shirts rolled up, exposing tanned and strong forearms, and tailored khakis with pristine boat shoes. No flip-flops or form-fitting jeans for them.

Benji studied the stranger curiously. He was about Charles’s height but definitely younger. Probably closer to Benji’s age than Charles’s, which stung a bit. Charles had sworn up and down that he wasn’t leaving Benji for one of his students, and apparently that had been true. Thinking Charles had left him for a younger man had hurt, but he’d been able to deal. It was so…. Charles. But finding out the other man he’d been thrown over for was a little older than himself? That was harder to digest. And shopping for furniture, which must mean they lived together. Or at least were going to be soon. That seemed insanely fast, unless they’d been seeing each other before Charles had left him.

“Are we really going to be one of those couples that fights in CASA?” the stranger asked, the anger that had been so apparent only moments before bleeding into amusement.

Charles laughed. Laughed. Benji nearly swallowed his tongue. Was this really the same man he’d dated for so long? Benji had never heard Charles make a sound like that, chagrined and self-effacing.

“Gay cliché,” Charles said, and then the two of them were kissing, right there in the middle of CASA. Public displays of affection? Humor? It was like being in bizarro land.