I don’t give him a whole lot to work with, conversation-wise. It’s a lot of questions on his end and brief replies on mine.
“So, you have any siblings?”
“Yes.”
“Brothers, sisters?”
“Two brothers.”
“Older or younger?”
“Brian is fourteen and Elliot is twelve.”
“Oh, nice.”
Cue my nodding and eating in silence until he comes up with the next blandest topic to ask me about. Rinse, repeat.
Fortunately—for the purposes of getting through this lunch, not necessarily fortunate in general—Benny is good at talking about himself unprompted. Before long, he starts filling the silences I leave with stories about Italy and his family. He even talks about Seattle’s weather.
But the whole time, the facts are running through my mind on a loop: one fall semester culinary internship, two of us. Plus, of course, who knows how many other, random applicants who don’t have the leg up of already working at Friends of Flavor. All the descriptions of the fall internship, and even the onboarding materials for my current position, havestrongly impliedthat the semester-long program is intended for those with previous FoF or UltiMedia experience. In spite of us being very different people with very different responsibilities in our respective roles, it looks like Benny is officially my competition. And frankly, giventhat he currently occupies the summer version of the position we’re vying for, I’m not sure that I like my odds.
Taking another sip of water, I study the boy opposite me. He’s gesturing wildly, telling some story about his parents’ restaurant using his hands as much as his words. Is he preoccupied with thinking of me as his competition, too? Somehow I doubt it. I click buttons all day and generate pithy replies to comments. He pals around with the actual Friends themselves and is a natural in the kitchen. So far I’ve been banking on the hope that my range of talents will work in my favor, my well-roundedness outweighing whatever I lack in advanced culinary capabilities. But Benny’s already a good cook, and who knows what kind of other skills he’s hiding under that ball cap? His range might very well put mine to shame.
“…and it’s like, what kind of person pairs a red wine with scallops, you know?”
Benny pauses as if expecting a reaction from me. I haven’t even heard most of what he’s been rambling on about, but I have, like, zero thoughts on red wineorscallops. Never tried the former, might have sampled the latter once when my family took a vacation to Florida. Why am I such an uncultured swine?
“Totally,” I mumble. He doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss, though, and launches into another tale about his brother Enzo.
Temporarily freed from my conversational duties again, I sink farther into my seat and stew. Benny wassogood filmingour video the other day. We haven’t seen the final product, of course, but it was obvious that it was his comfort zone and not mine. I felt awkward, worried about how I looked and sounded and how I would be perceived by viewers. Will they think I’m a dumb blonde for not knowing enough about cooking, for messing up with the food processor? Will they think I’m uptight and no fun for not going along with all of Benny’s jokes and flirting? It seems inevitable that he’ll be the audience favorite, as he fell so easily into the role of the guy who is somehow both in control and laid-back, who has the whole situation in the palm of his hand.
What a blessing it must be to be a good-looking, confident dude.
On the other hand, even if I had been better prepared or more knowledgeable, I probably wouldn’t be accepted as easily as Benny. I’d be a know-it-all or bossy. If I laughed at all his jokes and went along with everything he said, I’d be a ditz or falling all over him. It’s just another one of what seems like countless situations in life where as a woman, you can’t win.
“…and what’s even the point in trying, right?”
Benny’s words and subsequent pause stir me from my thoughts. It’s almost as if he could hear me thinking, and the question feels like a challenge. Externally, I shrug noncommittally.
But internally, something is ignited. There’ssomuch point in trying, no matter how much I try to convince myself that he already has an advantage. I’m not going to give up that easily.
The viewers of our brush with internet fame don’t have to like me. Benny himself doesn’t have to like me. Actually, Benny in particular probablyshouldn’tlike me. Because my eyes are on the prize that is the fall semester internship. And that means doing everything in my power to make our bosses like me, respect me, and want to keep me around at least as much as they want Benny—preferably a whole lot more.
I’ve made the mistake before of letting my guard down too easily—letting the wrong people in and allowing them to see my vulnerable side, my weaknesses. I’ve been walked all over because I’m young and polite, naive and eager to please. But here, this summer, in the midst of the coolest opportunity I’ve ever been given, I won’t fall into old patterns. I’ll keep my focus on my goals. Make work a No Feelings Zone. I won’t give anyone reason to see me as less than capable. I’ll be so objectively good that they can’t count me out.
Especially now that I have this smooth-talking, good-looking foil as competition. I wonder if Benny can tell how far my mind is from the café by the time we’re finishing up and paying our bills. It’s a dozen city blocks away at the Friends of Flavor offices, planning how to be the best intern they’ve ever had.
And planning to never again go out to lunch with a certain boy with dangerous levels of charm.
He aims said weapon at me once more as we’re leaving the restaurant, sliding his hands in his pockets and giving me that one-sided grin. “Glad you decided to give me a chance, Reese’sCup?”
Oh, if he only knew how very quickly my feelings are running in the opposite direction.
“Sure, glad’s one word for it,” I murmur, letting my lips curve up in what hopefully passes for a smile. Other words for it include “remorseful” and “sorely-mistaken-but-won’t-let-it-happen-twice.”
Benny flashes a full smile at me then, one I can scarcely look at if I want to keep this newfound resolve of mine. We walk toward the dorms, and I repeat in my head all of the reasons I can’t let this guy any closer than he’s already wriggled in.
I have a feeling this summer is going to be a long and wild ride. Benny Beneventi had better buckle up.
