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“Most of my languages are archaic or dead,” Ben said, “so it’s not as useful as it seems.”
“I might have to call on you if I ever need a translator,” Mark said.
Ben managed a tight smile and a laugh. “Uh. Sure. Anyway…that pretty much sums me up. I don’t have a lot of hobbies, but I’ve done some baking in the past, and I like podcasts. I’m writing a book like almost all professors do, but nothing anyone wants to read. And,” he hummed, tapping his chin. “I get along with my family.”
“Big one?”
“Small immediate family, huge extended,” Ben said. “Most of them are either Orthodox or Chasidic Jews with a bunch of kids. My parents apparently carried the black sheep gene, though my brother has a more impressive and very lucrative career than I do, so it gets him out of more lectures than me.”
Mark hummed. “Is he single?”
Ben’s eyes widened. “You’re…joking?”
Mark’s lips stretched into a smile. “Of course I am.”
Ben didn’t believe him. “Aaron’s not single, and he’s straight. But apparently, he has enough time on his hands to make me one blind date for each night of Chanukah.”
Mark sat back with his drink. “Interesting. What number am I?”
“Two.”
“And you said I’m much better than number one?” There was something about Mark’s tone that Ben didn’t like.
“I’d say definitely.” The food showed up right then, and he quickly grabbed a couple of fries before saying, “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”
At that, Mark lit up like an eighth-night menorah.
six
Ben had never been sobored and so full of regret as he was forty minutes into his conversation with Mark. Though, conversation was a loose term, considering Mark hadn’t stopped talking about himself and his film career since Ben gave him the green light.
Ben now knew how he got into film—a senior project in high school that “spoke to his soul”—and how he’d slept with his film professor as a freshman. It was something Mark presented as a point of pride, which made Ben cringe.
He’d had colleagues he knew in passing who had rumors going around about them, but the very thought of dating one of the boat-shoes-wearing frat boys who strolled into his classes ten minutes late with a smirk and a laugh like the world lived to accommodate them? He’d rather die.
Literally.
But Mark didn’t seem to notice or care that Ben was ready to fall asleep in the pile of mozzarella sticks he hadn’t touched.
“…and that was how my ex and I ended up becoming friends with benefits.”
“Mm,” Ben said.
Mark opened his mouth to continue when he visibly startled, then pulled his phone out of his pocket. He stared at the screen, then shoved it back and put his hands on the table. “Excuse me for a minute.”
He was gone before Ben could wave him off, and thirty seconds passed before a figure was looming over Ben’s shoulder.
“Okay, it doesn’t seem like an emergency, but it also doesn’t seem like it’s going amazing.”
Ben groaned, leaning back to look up at Nova, whose face was full of pity. “He fucked his professor during his undergrads.”
Nova winced. “Yikes. That’s a yikes, right?”
“Big yikes. Luckily, it was on the West Coast, so I don’t have to pretend like I don’t know the guy.” Ben stared at the plate and sighed. He suddenly and profoundly missed his mom’s Chanukah dinner. There would always be some sort of braised lamb, and little challah knots dusted in cinnamon sugar, and so many latkes he’d swear off potatoes for the entire month of January.
He poked one of the sad, fried cheese sticks.
“Not my best work, is it?” Nova asked.
