“Please don’t call me that. Benny. Please.”

“Benny. Cute.”

“Benny Gorga, at your service.” He bows.

“Gorga? As in Melissa Gorga, sister-in-law to Teresa Giudice from Real Housewives of New Jersey?”

“Ohmygod, they are true queens” Benny says. “No relation, but could you even imagine? Also, can I just say, I was like, ugh, I have to be all masc-for-masc, but you are just a queer lil delight? Ohmygod, I’m making a horrible first impression.” He shakes out his arms, and he looks a lot like those inflatable tube men at car washes flailing in the wind. Then he closes his eyes and whispers to himself, “I am centered. I am blessed. I am the master of my own fate. I am thankful for all of life’s bounty.”

Wide-eyed, I stare, not really sure what to do.

This is the person I’m going to be sharing a room with.

At least he’s gay.

Taking in one last breath, his eyes open. “Is this our room?” He points to the space behind me, and I nod. He pushes past me. “It’s like Disney threw up in here. This is truly the gayest thing I’ve seen in a really long time. And I looked in the mirror this morning. Who is Tim?” He points to Mom’s decal job. “Ohmygod, is that for the hot RA because, let me tell you something …” A moan escapes his lips as he turns back to me. “Have the other guys seen this?”

“Yep.”

“And they’re cool?” he asks.

“Yeah, and I get vibes from Xavier. Not Aaron, though. At. All.”

He lets out a sigh of relief, and I realize the whole sports-loving, masc-texting Benigno was just an act of self-preservation. I feel that in my bones.

“Ohmygod, really? Is Xavier hot?” Benny crosses his arms and leans in like I’m about to spill the hottest tea ever brewed.

“Beyond.”

“And all the parentals? They’re not mildly homophobic?”

“I didn’t clock anything. But it could go either way with Aaron’s parents.”

Benny nods. “Well, this suite is certainly the Gay Agenda we all want. Here I was psyching myself up for a straight frat house.” He links his arm with mine and pulls me toward the door. “Can you help me with my bags?”

“Yeah. No parents?”

He groans. “Single-parent mom couldn’t get off work, so I had to bus it across state lines from Massachusetts with all my bags. It was beyond tragic.”

It takes us an hour to lug all his shit upstairs from the dorm lobby into our room and tuck it away. He has a few posters that I help him hang—one of Ariana Grande that he had planned to say he jerked off to if any of the guys questioned him (then do the sign of the cross so she’d forgive him for such blasphemy), and two of his favorite movies, Clueless and The Godfather. He’s a music theory major who plays the saxophone and wants to “make albums of smooth instrumental music that straight couples have vanilla sex to.” The more he talks, the more I get him. He’s pure gay chaos. I love it.