Chapter Seven

Ben

“Ben, can I talk to you for a minute?” Professor Donnelly asks as I pack up my stuff after Thursday’s class.

“Sure. What’s up?”

Donnelly nods good-bye to a student, then turns back to me. “That was good work you did on the Osborne this week. Very reasoned arguments and well supported by the text.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Have you given any more thought to your plans for next year?”

My stomach twists, and I rub the back of my neck. “A bit.”

Professor Donnelly smiles. “Is grad school a possibility for you?”

“Um… I have a lot to consider.” Like law school.

“I’d like you to consider pursuing your MA. You’re the best student I’ve had in many years, and I think our graduate program would be a great fit for you.”

Holy shit. I told Hannah about this weeks ago, but in that things-you-want-that-never-happen-in-real-life kind of way. But here’s Donnelly, the head of the department and the professor I admire the most, telling me he wants me to stay on. I can’t believe it. “Thank you, sir.”

“The deadline for the application is coming up soon, so don’t wait too long.”

“I won’t.” I hadn’t even seriously considered applying, but now? The idea is unfurling in my brain, so alluring and perfect. Could I really do this? Could I get into the grad program, get my master’s, and keep studying what I want to study?

“See you next week, Ben.” He slips the rest of his papers into his battered leather bag and leaves.

Fuck.

Working on my master’s under Donnelly would be a dream come true. But the reality is there’s no way my parents will go along with grad school when they’re so against my major. It’s law school or nothing.

I haven’t crunched the numbers on what a master’s program at Arlington State runs, never mind a PhD, but I’m guessing it far exceeds my shitty bank account. I spend all my waking hours at Prometheus because I love it there, not because Ralph is lining my pockets with a fat salary.

Of course, there’s my trust fund, which isn’t a ton of money, but it’d be enough. But I don’t get access to that until I’m twenty-five, which does me no good right now.

A couple hours later, I’m squinting at the computer screen and working my way through pricing a stack of books at Prometheus, and I’m still no closer to any kind of insight.

Last time I saw my dad, he gave me some crap about how living out your dreams is kid stuff. Adults choose a sensible path and stick to it. He’s probably right, but hell, that dream is so damn appealing. I can’t shut it down, no matter how much I try.

The bell rings as the door opens, and Hannah sweeps in, bringing a gust of cool, crisp fall air in her wake. Something thrums inside me as she meets my eyes. The breeze has turned her cheeks and lips pink. Her eyes sparkle like she’s about to burst with her latest literary revelation. I can almost hear every dusty, aged page in the store ruffle slightly with her arrival. It feels like I do, too.

I smile. “Hey.”

She plants her palms onto the counter and leans toward me. “You have to tell me Joe comes back.”

“What?”

“Joe. He just found out his brother died and he left. He comes back, right? He’s not gone gone.”

I’m still so distracted by her wind-bitten lips that it takes me a second to remember what she’s reading right now, but it comes back to me: The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay.

“Ben!” Her eyes widen.

She’s so cute when she gets caught up in the story. “Guess you’ll have to keep reading and see,” I tease.

“But what about Rosa?”

I shrug. “What about her?”

“He just left her.”

“His brother died.”

“But he loves her. Tell me he’s coming right back.”

“Keep reading, Hannah.”

“Ughhh. You’re no help.” She circles around the counter and flops down onto the stool that I leave for her visits. Her backpack slides down her arm and hits the ground with a thud. Her despair is almost comical.

I chuckle. “Where’s the fun if I just tell you what’s going to happen?”

“Okay, fine. Don’t tell me. Now I’m going to be up all night reading.”

“Call me and I’ll keep you company, even if you’re tucked up in bed.” Whoa, hold up. Where did that come from? But Hannah just smiles— Maybe it didn’t throw her?

“You know I will. If I’m awake, so are you.” Then her gaze drops to my chest and she laughs. “What the hell happened to your shirt?”

“What?” I glance down—oh, right. I ran out of decent clothes this week. This is my pink splotchy shirt. “Ah… I had an incident in the laundry room. Some of my white clothes look like this now.”

“Did you seriously not separate the red clothes?”

“I always forget. I’m terrible at this stuff. Anyway, you’ve been in college for what, two months? It’s not like you have loads of laundry experience yourself.”

“I’ve been doing laundry since I was ten.”

My face goes hot. Shit. Her mom. I forgot. “I’m so sorry. I forgot about your mom.”

“It’s okay. I’m pretty sure I’d have been doing laundry even with both parents around. Your parents never made you do laundry at home?”

I shrug. “We had a maid.”

Hannah sputters out a disbelieving laugh. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve never known anyone who had a maid before. I guess that investment stuff your dad does pays pretty well.”

I grimace. “It did for him.”

“Lucky you. So how’s your day going, rich boy?”

“I’m not rich.” Then again, I do have that trust fund. In Hannah’s eyes, that probably makes me rich, even though I don’t have any control over it. “My day is fine, I guess. Just…”

Her eyebrows furrow and she straightens up. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not wrong. I don’t know yet.” I push my glasses back up my nose. “One of my professors wants me to apply to the master’s program.”

“Wow, that’s great!” She touches my arm, and I feel it in my stomach. My gaze flies to hers, but she’s smiling, hand still on my forearm, oblivious. Did she feel it, too? Her face is so calm; it’s hard to say. “I mean, that’s great, right?” she presses.

“I…don’t know.”

Hannah laughs and runs her hand down to my wrist, squeezing gently. My pulse races, and the room goes hot. Does she realize what she’s doing? She must. I should pull away, but… It feels kind of nice.

“Ben, it’s like you were made for this.” She smiles. “What is there to decide?”

This is so easy for her, a freshman with years ahead of her to figure it all out. I stare out the storefront, watching pedestrians walk past, enjoying the weather.

“I don’t know.” I sigh. “I’m supposed to go to law school. Actually, my dad really wants me to work in finance like him and my brother, but he gave up on that dream ages ago. Law school is an acceptable second choice, though.”

She bursts out laughing. My stomach sinks. Yeah, I don’t think I’m a natural for law school, either, but nobody’s ever laughed at the idea of it before.

“I’m sorry, law school?” She struggles to catch her breath. “You?”

“You think I can’t do it?”

“Ben, you’re brilliant. I know you can do it. I don’t think you want to do it.”

And that makes Hannah the only person to figure it out. My family certainly never cared that my heart isn’t in it, and whenever I talk about law school with Alex, she just gets excited and starts chattering non-stop about all the programs I should look into. Still, as right as Hannah is, people don’t always get what they want. I sure don’t.

“My dad’s got a point, though. Maybe it’s stupid to spend all these years in college just reading books and shit.” I shove the pile I’m currently working on off to the side. Books. My whole damn life is about books, and for what? “Maybe I should think about what I’m going to do with the rest of my life. At least law pays well.”

“Who cares about money?” she asks quietly. “You’d be an amazing teacher, Ben. I know you would.”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure—”

“This is just like Sam.”

I frown. “Who?”

“Sammy Clay, in the book.”

Oh. She’s talking about Kavalier and Clay. “In what way?”

“Him and Tracy,” she says, referencing Sam’s closeted relationship with Tracy, the Hollywood actor. Seriously?

“I told you I’m not gay.”

She laughs again. “I know. I meant the way Sam is denying himself and who he really is. How long do you think he can manage that? I haven’t finished the book yet, but you have, and I’m betting that part of the story doesn’t work out well.”

No, it doesn’t. It doesn’t work out well for Sam or anybody around him. “It’s complicated.” That’s kind of a cop-out, but I can’t figure this out today. “And what about you, anyway?”

“Me?”

I give her a pointed look. “You’ve been having mixed feelings about your major, too. What are you going to do about it?”

Hannah looks away, fidgeting with the zipper on her jacket. “I’ve been working on it. I’m sure I’ll do much better on the next test. It was just first semester jitters, like you said.”

“Sounded like more than that to me.”

“I told you, this is about so much more than a major. It’s about my mom, too.”

“I know, but Hannah, you can’t do something you hate just for her sake. You know that, right?”

“It’s—”

“Complicated. Yeah, I know.”

She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Look, let’s forget all this stuff. I just came by to see if you wanted to go get some hot chocolate with me. Want to?”

Alex isn’t working today—I already checked—but… “Yeah, sure. Why not?” I turn toward the shelves. “Hey, Adele? I’m going out for a minute.”

“Okay,” her voice answers faintly from the back. “Hi, Hannah!”

“Hi, Adele!” she calls back.

We head out and cross the street to Coffee Oasis.

“This weather…” Hannah closes her eyes and tips her face to the sky. Her light brown hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes explode with gold when the sun hits them. She’s almost glittering; it’s startling, the way it transforms her. She’s beautiful. “I’m going to miss it when the snow starts.”

I clear my throat and force myself to look away. “Me, too.”

Alex isn’t working, but Marc is, and I know him a little. Oasis is quiet, so he chats us up as he makes our hot chocolates.

“So what are you guys up to today?”

“Oh, I’m working at Prometheus. Hannah just stopped in to visit.”

“You go to Arlington State, Hannah?”

“Yeah, this is my first year. You?”

“Now and then.” Marc smirks. He’s been a part-time student for nearly a decade—if you can call auditing one class a year part-time. The rest of the time he scrapes by working at the Oasis and selling weed. The girls seem to find him charming. I don’t get it. “Whipped cream on these?”

“Umm…” Hannah hesitates. “I’m not sure.”

Marc grins at her over his shoulder. “Oh, come on. Indulge a little.” I scowl at him— He’s looking at her like she’s the whipped cream. What an asshole.

But I need to relax. Hannah isn’t my girlfriend, and this isn’t a date.

She laughs and nods. “Okay, sure. Whipped cream.”

“Thatta girl.” He piles it on thick, like his bullshit. I’m glaring at his back, but the fucker is oblivious. I mean, come on, Hannah’s cute, but she’s also way too young and sweet for a washed-up burnout like Marc.

“Okay, two hot chocolates. Six fifty.”

“I got this.” I pull out my wallet without thinking. It feels like one-upping Marc, somehow, but I doubt anyone notices.

“Thanks.” Hannah sips hers and looks at me over the rim of the cup. Her eyelashes are so long they cast little feathery shadows across the tops of her cheekbones. I take a long sip of my hot chocolate before I say something inexplicably stupid.

Mistake. It’s piping hot and burns my tongue. While I’m breathing in and out, trying to cool the burn, Hannah chuckles.

“You have whipped cream on your lip.”

I swipe at my upper lip, the obvious culprit, but she shakes her head.

“No, here.” She reaches out and slides her thumb against the corner of my mouth. Her finger is soft and warm on my lips, then on my cheek as she drags her hand away. My skin tingles long after she stops touching me.

“Got it,” she murmurs, and then she slips her thumb, slicked with whipped cream, into her mouth. Something flips over in my stomach as her pink lips curve around her finger. I’ve just wandered into someplace dangerous.

“I should get back to the store.”

“Oh. Sure,” Hannah says. “I have class in half an hour. I better get going. I’ll call you later, once I know if Joe comes back.”

“Joe?”

Hannah rolls her eyes. “The book, silly.”

Right. The book. I almost forgot.