“What are your plans the rest of today?” he asks and slices his cinnamon roll apart with his fork.
“Nothing really,” I say. I have nothing planned for the whole weekend other than gaming and working on my costume. “You?”
“Nothing really either,” he replies. “I have a work thing tonight.” He makes a face. “I told you I go to events a lot.”
“You say that like you don’t like them.”
“I do and I don’t,” he explains then takes a bite. Once he’s finished chewing, he continues. “It’s work. I like selling paintings, of course, and getting recognized for it, but it’s all fake smiles and bullshit small talk. I didn’t start painting so I could go to things like that.”
It’s an honest confession, and I feel like I can see the real Ben right there in front of me.
“Makes sense,” I say. “I don’t go to many black-tie events though, so wearing a pretty dress and sparkly jewelry seems fun.”
“For maybe an hour,” he says dryly. “Then you’ll get bored, trust me.”
“How’s the food at those things?”
He chuckles. “Not too bad, actually. But I don’t get to sit down and eat. I’m busy walking around and talking.”
“Aww, poor baby,” I tease.
He nudges me. “Shut up. Yeah, yeah, I should be thankful and all that.” He raises an eyebrow. “But it’s still boring as fuck.”
I hold up my coffee cup. “Here’s to a non-boring-as-fuck night.”
“Thanks,” he says and picks up his own coffee mug. “If you were with me, it wouldn’t be boring.”
He’s referencing sex again. I think. Or maybe I’m good company to keep? Hell if I know.
He finishes his cinnamon roll and set his fork down on his plate. “Are you up for one more round of Mario Kart?”
*
Ben said he’d call me when he left an hour later. I didn’t ask when he’d call, even though I wanted to. It’s a legit question, after all. Sunday came and passed with no word from him. So did Monday. Tuesday morning I get up and think what we had was a fling. I’m feeling a little down as I drive to work, and stop at the McDonald’s drive thru to get something greasy that will kill my stomach later as comfort food.
Around eleven, I’m nodding off as I code a custom template for another client. My stomach grumbles and I can taste the two hash browns I ate earlier. I lean back in my rolly chair and rub my eyes, thankful I didn’t bother with mascara this morning. I’m thinking about what I should get for lunch when Ben texts me.
When do you get off work?
Five-ish, I type back. Why?
I want to see you.
I smile and read his two texts again, making sure I read his message right. Before I can reply he asks me when I go to lunch and asks if I want to meet with him somewhere. My smile broadens and we agree to meet at noon at a locally run cafe not far from my office.
The next hour drags on forever.
Ben is already in the cafe when I get there, absent-mindedly stirring his coffee with his straw, eyes down on a book. He looks up when I’m a few feet away and smiles.
“Hey,” he says and checks me out. A flash of regret over my outfit choice goes through me, but I quickly squish it down. I like my World of Warcraft Alliance Polo shirt. And Polo shirts are sexy … or at least they were in the early 2000s. Whatever.
Ben is wearing jeans and a light blue T-shirt that is covered in something dark, but looks too thin to be paint. The closer I get, the more I can smell the varnish. He doesn’t give a fuck how he looks, though to be fair, the messy artist look is working for him.
“Hi,” I say and take my purse of my shoulder. He puts his book down and stands, extending an arm, putting it around my waist and pulling me in for a quick kiss.
“How long do you have?” he asks me.
“Like forty-five minutes. You? Oh wait, it doesn’t matter, does it?”
He smiles and shakes his head. “Not really, though I try to set hours for myself or I’m at the gallery all night.” He shrugs. “Not that I mind.”
“Lucky.”
“I know. We should order food now so you don’t run out of time. What do you want?” He pulls his wallet out of his pocket. Is that a subtle way of saying this is a date? Fuck. Why is everything so awkward when it comes to dating?
“I usually get the veggie pot pie here,” I say.
“Sit down, relax,” he says. “I’ll get it.”
“Thanks.” I take a seat across from where he’d been sitting, and see that he’s reading a contemporary thriller. It’s a popular book, one that’s been on the lists for a while now, but hadn’t caught my interest. My phone is dinging like crazy from inside my purse. I had texted Erin on the way over to tell her that I’d heard from Ben, and she was already asking for deets.