Page 51 of The Fear of Falling
This feels different from the way Eric told it, though I can’t put my finger on why. “So you decided to be roommates after that?”
He nods. “Yep. Stayed with his family a lot too. Best friends until I got a job out of state and we fell out of touch.”
Of all the questions I could ask to continue the conversation, I want most to ask about his family and why he spent so much time at Eric’s house instead of his own, but something tells me I shouldn’t push him too hard. He proved in Italy that he can be as stubborn as me, so I’m going to have to take a more delicate approach.
“Okay,” I say, keeping my voice light. “Now tell me about the time you almost got him arrested.”
The smile that breaks across Benson’s face lights the whole restaurant, telling me I made the right choice. “He told you about that?”
I shrug. “Briefly, and only because he accidentally let it slip one night when we were hanging out with some of his college friends.”
“That night was wild.”
I lean forward, matching his smile and loving the way he fully relaxes across from me when I do. “Tell me everything.”
I could talk to Benson for hours. When the subject is only marginally personal, he talks easily, like he did in Italy, and I think he’s glad to let out some frustrations when it comes to Eric. He doesn’t say anything outright about his thoughts on the conference nonsense, but I’m pretty sure he’s on my side of things, which boosts my mood significantly.
He tells me about all the stupid stuff he did in college and how often Eric had to bail him out of trouble, and he talks about how instantly Lynda accepted him as part of the family without asking questions. Now that I know what his job is, when we get on the subject of other places he’s traveled, he goes into a lot more depth than he ever did in Florence, talking about some of the companies he’s consulted for.
He’s kind of amazing, going places I never would have thought to visit simply because he found someone who wanted his help. I traveled whenever I could before Eric, but not the way Benson does it. I was a tourist. He’s an explorer.
No wonder he knew the best way to experience Florence.
When I buy him a slice of berry cheesecake, hoping he’ll keep talking for another hour or so, he finally shuts his mouth and narrows his eyes at me. “Are you plying me with non-chocolate dessert, Avery Grace?”
I put on an innocent expression. “Why would I do that when you’ve been blabbering just fine on your own?”
“Don’t you have enough dirt on your business partner to last a lifetime?”
I do, but that’s not why I want him to keep telling me stories. I’m learning so much about him, things I never could have guessed and things he probably doesn’t realize he’s been telling me. Like, now I know that he has a habit of including other people in conversations, especially when they’re on the edge of a group. Now I know he is serious when he needs to be and always honest, even when it’s to his detriment.
I put my chin in my hand, elbow on the table, and smile at him. “I can never have enough dirt on Eric, but I like the way you tell stories, Benson.”
His lips twist in a smirk that only sort of masks his surprise. “You do?”
“Of course. I thought the same thing in Florence when you were giving me fake history lessons.”
Snorting a laugh, he shakes his head at me as if he isn’t sure what to do with that admission. “Not all of my history lessons were fake.”
“True, but the fake ones were way more fun than the real ones. Which makes me wonder how many of these consulting stories of yours are exaggerated because you can’t help but flirt with me.”
“I haven’t been flirting with you.”
Sure he hasn’t. This man’s default setting is flirtatious. “So sitting and talking to me for three hours is something you do with all your clients?”
He swears, smile dropping as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He grits his teeth and starts typing while every ounce of happiness disappears from his expression.
I frown. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Obviously.”
“It’s…” He scowls as he finishes typing, then shakes his head. “I was supposed to meet with a potential client tonight, and I totally forgot.”
“This late?” It’s almost nine.
“The company’s in Australia.”
