Page 26 of Devilry

“Has anyone even come close?”

“No.”

“Exactly,” she deadpans. “The perfect person is unattainable, because your standards are ridiculously high.”

“Not at all,” I scoff. “There is nothing wrong with wanting to be with someone who can turn you on in more ways than one.”

“Yeah, otherwise known as mouth, fingers, dick.” She puts three fingers up in the air. “One, two, three.”

I almost choke on my beer trying to stifle a laugh. “I meant conversation, Beauty.”

“So, you don’t want to date anyone dumb?”

“Now I sound like the perfect catch,” I mutter before taking a long pull of my drink.

“I’m kidding.” Harper’s voice loses its humor and is replaced with a tone of understanding. “I get it. I think on some subconscious level everyone seeks a partner who is similar to them in more ways than not. Intelligence included.”

Wanting to steer the conversation away from myself, I take the plunge and ask Harper something that’s probably a bit too personal. “What about you? Nothing to keep you back in…” I rub my hand over my forehead trying to remember if she’s ever said where she was from.

“California.”

“That’s right,” I say, now remembering her mention it once before. “So, nobody there?”

I watch as she bites the inside of her cheek, stalling her answer.

“There was,” she finally responds.

Choosing not to probe, I subtly put my hand up in the air to get the waiter's attention. When he notices, I motion for him to come our way, giving Harper space to get lost in her own memories.

“Can I help you, sir?” He stands there attentively waiting.

“Yes, do you have a dessert menu we could look at?”

“Of course.” He looks down to the huge pocket that’s embroidered with the restaurant’s name, at the front of his apron, and pulls out two small menus. Handing one to each of us, he runs through the specials and tells us he’ll be back in a few minutes to take our order.

I put my arm up to stop him. “You can take the order now, we know what we’re going to get.”

“We do?” Harper chimes in.

I wink at her and point to the tiramisu on the menu. “We’ll have one each, thank you.”

“No worries, sir.” He picks up the menus and puts them back in his apron. “Any drinks?”

“Another round of the same, please.” Nodding, he writes it down on his notepad and heads back to the kitchen.

“So, how’s school going?” Harper asks, the inflection in her voice a little too high considering how pensive she looked only moments ago.

Internally I groan, knowing exactly where this conversation is going to lead my train of thoughts. “It’s been really good.”

Her face scrunches up. “Why does it seem like you’re lying?”

“I’m not,” I say defensively, “The students,”One student.“Are really attentive.”

“Really?”

“Okay, maybe not all of them,” I admit. “There is this one kid, though.” Wistfully, I think of Elijah and I hate myself. “He’s going to do great things, I’m sure.”

“Having one student really love the content makes all the difference.” She closes her menu and looks up at me. “I know a lot of people don’t think there’s the same sense of achievement for a college professor as there is for a middle or high school teacher, but this is like the last stop in their journey, where you can still make a difference. They’re open to change and opinions, and they’re much more adventurous and willing to explore before they take the final leap into adulthood.”

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