“Coffee, with cream please,” I say.
“I’ll do the same.”
“Great, I’ll be back to take your order in a minute,” she says, walking away in her Keds.
I flip open the menu, even though I don’t need to look through it, knowing exactly what I want. Ben doesn’t open his, just plants his elbow on the table and rests his head on his hand.
So it looks like I have sweet Ben today. I’m not sure which side of Ben is more appealing to me. Both have me absolutely fucked up.
“You already know what you want?” I ask him.
“I’m in no rush,” he says, taking out his phone and shooting off a text, placing it face down on the table.
“I’m sorry that I assumed you were married with kids and a piece of shit,” I say, hiding my face with the menu I’m currently not reading. It’s at least useful as an emotional shield right now.
“I don’t blame you. I can see how it might have looked. I would imagine with your history, it would have been triggering.”
“The idea of being lied to is a soft spot for me,” I say, glancing over the menu and he swallows thickly, his eyes flicking back down at his phone.
Our server comes back and we place our orders, my figurative shield being carried away with her, but at least I have coffee now. I add two packets of sugar and a splash of cream.
Ben just adds cream as we both take sips, staring at each other on opposite sides of the table.
Okay, so, I can tell him what to do when we’re naked and he can blindfold and spank me, but we can’t have a normal conversation.
“How has your summer been so far? Do you have any trips planned?” he asks.
“It’s been good. I’ve spent time with friends. I started painting again,” I say, but don’t mention that he was the muse for the piece I’ve been working on. “As far as travel goes, not really. I usually wind up tired and with a stomach ache,” I say. I’m relatively independent, though the idea of traveling alone scares me. Will never wanted to go to the places I wanted to, either. “What about you? Any trips?”
“I’ll probably head down to the Bahamas once or twice. My family has a place down there. But getting the club up and running has been a lot lately, so not much time for much else.”
“Do you have a timeframe on when it’ll be done?”
“Hoping for mid-August. When do you go back to work?”
“August twentieth.”
“Are you looking forward to it? Do you like teaching?”
I smile, taking a sip of my coffee. “I actually really enjoy it. Having tenure and only working at one university makes it more enjoyable.”
“People teach at multiple? Sorry, I got through three semesters and realized it wasn’t for me.”
He seems shy or embarrassed by telling me that, and I just shake my head.
“Yeah, a lot of teachers are adjunct, making shit money and working their asses off. Others are staff professors and are working their way to tenure or headed in another direction.”
“So, what exactly do you teach?” His neck is blushing red.
“I don’t teach the process of creation. Like my friend Savannah, she’s in the photography department. I teach the study of art, the social and cultural impact of art throughout history. I have a few classes I teach that start from the Renaissance to the twentieth century, another that is solely contemporary art. I also teach a class about women in art starting from the sixteenth century and beyond.”
“You love what you do,” he says softly. It’s not a question.
“I do. I love my students. Besides the few classes that meet the art requirement to graduate, they’re all very passionate.”
“Did you always know this is what you wanted to do?” he asks.
I take another sip of coffee and think over my answer. “Not always. When I moved here to live with my aunt, it became clear. She was brilliant, a research professor in biochemistry. She had so many patents, she made a ton of money, but more than anything, she was passionate. She showed me art, introduced me to a world beyond my own. I’m sure she would have preferred if I became a scientist, but if she was disappointed, she never showed it. When she saw art was my passion, she fed it. She was my greatest teacher, and I wanted to be just like her,” I say, my eyes watering slightly and I blot them with a napkin.
