Benny Rodriguez

The air was thick with melted chocolate, roasted marshmallows, and smoke from the little campfire the boys had rigged up inside the treehouse — probably the worst idea in recorded history, but it somehow worked.

Everyone was crammed into the wooden walls like sardines — bare knees knocking, flashlights dangling from nails, comic books tossed in the corner. You sat with your back against the wall, Benny’s arm lazily draped around your shoulders, his fingers tracing soft circles on your sleeve like he wasn’t even thinking about it.

You could feel the heat of his body next to yours, warm and steady, as Ham stood front and center in the glow of the firelight like he was hosting his own cooking show.

“Okay, pay attention,” Ham said, waving a graham cracker dramatically in the air. “Smalls. You want a s’more?”

Smalls looked up from where he was struggling with a marshmallow skewer. “Some more of what?”

Ham blinked, face blank with disbelief. “No,” he said slowly, “do you want a s’more?”

“I haven’t had anything yet,” Smalls answered, looking genuinely confused. “So how can I have some more of nothing?”

The treehouse groaned. Squints slapped his forehead. Yeah-Yeah whispered “Oh my God” under his breath.

Ham stared at him like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.“You’re killing me, Smalls!” he shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “You’re straight up killing me!”

You laughed into Benny’s shoulder, and he looked down at you with a crooked smile, shaking his head. “Poor guy,” he whispered. “I think Ham might actually explode.”

You both watched as Ham assembled the smore, graham cracker, half melted chocolate, toasted marshmallow, and another graham cracker on top to finish it off. He took a huge bite, marshmallow oozing out of the sides.

Benny chuckled softly beside you, his voice low. “Want one?”

He was already reaching for a graham cracker with his free hand, assembling it carefully — but this one was for you. He handed it over gently, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Thanks,” you said, the s’more already starting to fall apart in your fingers. He smiled. “You’ve got chocolate on your face.”

You licked your lip, missing it entirely.

“Nope,” he said, leaning in. “Here.”

He wiped it off with his thumb, then kissed you. Like it was normal. Like you were his.

Until—

“WHOOOOAAAAA!!” Ham shouted, pointing.

“OH MY GOSH!” Squints gasped, practically choking on his s’more. “They’re kissing! They’re actually kissing!”

“Dude!” Yeah-Yeah yelled. “In the treehouse? That’s sacred ground!”

Timmy and Tommy both yelled “Ewwwww!” in unison.

Smalls just looked stunned. “Are they—uh… are they allowed to do that?”

Squints took their attention back “Quiet! Quiet! This is the story of The Beast.”