Page 94 of From Now On

“Hey,” Ben greets.

“Hey,” I echo, keeping my hands shoved deep in my jacket pockets.

“You getting coffee?” he asks hopefully.

I glance at the door that leads into the campus coffee shop. “Yeah. You?”

“Yep. I’ve been editing footage for a few hours. Needed a break.”

“Funny timing,” I comment dryly.

Ben walks ahead to open the door for me. When I pass him, I notice the tips of his ears are pink.

It’s warmer inside—almost stifling—so I unzip my fleece and fiddle with the strap of my backpack as Ben and I join the line in front of the pastry display case.

“How was your break?” he asks as we wait.

“It was good,” I answer. “Great, actually. Was nice to go somewhere.”

Ben nods, visibly unsure what to do with that information. We don’t usually discuss our breaks from school. We either spent them together or spoke so frequently during them it felt like we did.

“Where exactly did you go?”

“Calaveras,” I reply.

“Never heard of it.”

I hadn’t either, but my voice is a touch defensive as I say, “It’s beautiful. Right on the Pacific.”

“Guess I’m partial to the Atlantic,” Ben tells me.

I glance at the line. Still two people ahead of us. “Right. How was Maine?”

“It was fine.” Ben averts his gaze, looking at the chalk whiteboard instead of at me.

I was expecting a more verbose answer. In the past, he’s told me about his family and his friends and his friends’ families.And the latest with the lobster shack, although I get why he’s not mentioning that now.

An awkward pause lingers as I try to come up with something else to say. I’m not sure when we stopped having meaningful conversations with each other, but I think it predated our breakup.

“They have blueberry muffins” is the best I can come up with.

Ben loves blueberry muffins.

“Oh. Great,” he says.

What feels like hours later, we reach the front of the line. Ben orders a cappuccino, and then the blonde girl at the register looks to me.

I wonder if she’s the one who gives Aidan free drinks, and smile at the memory of him bickering with Rylan.

I wonder if she’s ever given Hunter a free drink, and frown before ordering a soy latte.

“Are you paying together or separately?” the cashier asks.

Ben hesitates.

“Separately,” I say, handing her my student ID to swipe.

Ben doesn’t argue. Not the way he would when I offered to pay while we were together. And it’s a stupid thing to be bothered by—I should be relieved, assuming that means he’s accepted we’re over—but I immediately think of the way Hunter refused to let me pay for a single thing on our road trip when we’ve never been together. I don’t get the sense he grew up with money when he was talking about his hometown, either.

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