Chapter 3
“I’ve heard there was some… trouble in London,” Doctor Langton, the head of the Department of Mathematics, eyed her from under the ridge of his glasses.
So this was what it was about. Having been back to work for a few weeks, things had been rather smooth for her. Being summoned in the big boss’ office had been unexpected, to say the least, but now she understood why.
Madison took a small, shallow breath, then forced a polite smile on her lips. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re talking about, Doctor Langton.”
“Some rumor about inappropriate behavior.”
“I think the proper term is sexual harassment. At least that’s how they preferred to qualify it, even though based on my knowledge of the law, which I will admit isn’t as extended as my expertise in Math, it held all the attributes of what is qualified as sexual assault.”
That seemed to catch the older man off guard. “Well, Doctor Guggenheim told me it was all a big misunderstanding.”
Keeping a straight face was hard when she heard the name of her mentor. Marisol Guggenheim had always been someone she had looked up to. A smart, driven, ambitious woman in STEM, respected by her peers.
“Listen, Miss Goldstein, I don’t want any of this to reflect badly on you or on our institution, or on our good relations with the London School.”
It’s Doctor Goldstein, you old crouton.
“That was never my goal,” she said in a calm tone rather than scold him on his lack of decorum when it came to the hard-earned title that should now be attached to her name. While she might have only gotten her Ph.D. a year ago, it still didn’t change the fact that it was something she was proud of, and she deserved the recognition as much as anybody else.
“I know, I know,” Doctor Langton placated her with a slightly condescending wave of his hand. “It is what it is, and I have to say it was a good call for you to ask to be transferred back before the end of your assistantship there.”
“I didn’t ask. I was strongly encouraged. What exactly has Doctor Guggenheim told you?”
“It’s all details. I mostly wanted to make sure that we could all leave this story behind us, start afresh. You’re a valuable member of this faculty, and I’m sure you understand your responsibility toward our reputation. After all, as Doctor Guggenheim said… it was all a big misunderstanding.”
The patronizing smile he gave her made her skin crawl. Pushing her glasses back up her nose, she took a shaky breath. Until a few weeks ago, she had never realized how easy it was to make someone feel guilty about something that was not their fault. How easy it was to create self-doubt, and erase chunks of confidence. She had played by the rules, trusted her direct boss, adhering to the hierarchy in place for handling this type of thing.
She had been awfully naïve.
Understanding that she was being dismissed, she stood up and grabbed her messenger bag. It wasn’t her most professional look, but today was supposed to be paperwork and lecture-prep day, so she had aimed for comfort, not realizing it would make her feel like a student being summoned to the headmaster’s office, instead of a staff member discussing a delicate matter with a superior.
“I’m glad we got everything sorted out,” Doctor Langton said as he walked her to the door.
She shook his hand, her eyes wandering to the giant family portrait proudly exhibited on a cabinet by the door. “I’m glad you feel that way. And I really do hope that your granddaughter will never have to face this kind of misunderstanding in the future.”
She turned around, barely seeing the obvious shock on his face. Even his mustache seemed shaken by her bold, direct statement.
To be honest, she was a little impressed, too. Confrontation had never been her strong suit, but her emotions had been running wild lately, like she was in a permanent PMS-ing state with no chocolate in sight and no painkiller to deal with the cramps. Maybe making a comparison with her menstrual cycle was counter-productive considering the topic discussed, but it was the closest analogy she could come up with.
When she headed back to her small office, she was relieved to see it was empty. She shared a workspace with a few other teaching assistants, with a common room to welcome students whenever they would visit. She could also work from home whenever she wasn’t needed for an appointment or her usual office hours, but she enjoyed the atmosphere of the old building. It was comforting.
Or at least, it used to be.
She wasn’t so sure anymore.
It soon became obvious that she was still too worked up about her encounter with the head of her department to be productive. She hadn’t had the chance to buy her favorite candy bars since she had gotten back home, and seeing her empty drawers didn’t help her mood. Sometimes, a girl needed her milk chocolate, no matter how clichéd that sounded.
“Two scoops of chocolate ice cream, two scoops of cookies and cream, topped with hot fudge sauce and chocolate sauce, grilled almonds, whipped cream, brownie bites aaaaand crushed Oreos, is that right?”
Madison smiled, pretending to ignore the slightly dumbfounded look on the clerk’s face. “Yes. In a cup.”
“Well, yeah, I don’t think all of this could fit in a cone,” the employee mumbled as he grabbed their bigger cup and scooped chocolate ice cream into it.
“Please, make it two spoons,” a deep voice said behind her, startling her.
“Ben?” she said, turning around with a frown. What the hell was he doing in her safe space? The ice cream parlor was her guilty pleasure, the place where she would head if she needed a break from life and adulting.
“Madison,” he said with a little wink, taking out his wallet. He was wearing a dark grey suit, with a black silk tie and an impeccable white button-down shirt. In short, he was totally out of place in the small shop.
“What are you doing here?”
She let her eyes travel down his body. He was well-built. Like lean muscles well-built. He was not the kind of person to frequent ice cream parlors. Not like her.
“Aren’t we all supposed to meet for drinks at O’Malley’s? Spotted you walking down the street. I called out to you, but you didn’t hear me.”
Damn. O’Malley’s was the Irish pub where they met most of the time, and also how she and Harper had found the small ice cream parlor one day. She just hadn’t expected anybody else to be done with their day too, least of all Ben. “Yeah, sorry. I was a little focused.”
“On the sundae to end all sundaes, I see.” He chuckled, eyeing the mountain of deliciousness the employee was currently building.
“Hey, what did you mean by two spoons?” she suddenly asked in horror. She didn’t share her sundaes. Ever.
“I am not the kind of guy who refuses to help a lady in distress, and there is no way you’ll be able to finish this monster.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “You really don’t know me at all, do you? That’s my super late lunch you’re talking about. Go grab the protein powder mix thingy you probably use.”
“First of all, my protein powder mix is for breakfast, and as you know, only on weekdays. I have normal lunches. And by normal, I mean they involve a variety of foods, not just dairy, with more dairy, topped with extra dairy and sugar. And I usually take them around noon, not-” He paused to lift his arm and check his watch. “Not at 4:30 in the afternoon.”
“I’m just making sure my bones get plenty of calcium, and I’ve had a busy day.”
He grinned, shaking his head. “God forbid you have weak bones.”
“That will be $18.93.”
“I got it,” Ben said, stopping her with a hand on her arm when she reached inside her purse. She didn’t even have the time to protest before he was handing over a few bills and guiding her to one of the small tables outside.
“You didn’t have to pay for me. And I meant what I said. I don’t share my sundaes. It’s a hard rule.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. I only get this kind of treat like once a month, tops. I don’t hold back either, and-”
“Well, yeah, that’s obvious,” Ben murmured, his eyebrows raising as he stared at the cup in her hand.
“Listen, I’ve had a shitty day, OK? If I need to deal with ice cream, I’ll deal with ice cream, fuck you very much,” she snapped, sitting down and grabbing her spoon, digging it furiously into the creamy goodness.
“Wow. Sorry. I was just teasing you,” Ben said slowly as he took the seat next to her.
She closed her eyes, guilt creeping up at the way she had snapped at him. He had just bought her lunch, and here she was, taking her anger out on him.
“No. I’m sorry, Ben. Thank you and… you can have a spoonful if you want to,” she added generously to show her good-will.
“A spoonful? I bought the whole thing!” he exclaimed.
“I didn’t ask you to.” With a shrug, she slipped the spoon into her mouth and moaned in pleasure. God, she had missed this. “And please try not to eat the brownie bites, they’re always super cheap with them.”
“Is this a chick thing?” he asked, his spoon lingering over the cup between them.
“What? Ice cream?”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe? Violet isn’t a big fan, though, so there are exceptions. I guess it’s like bacon for dudes. You guys want bacon everywhere. Or beer. Beer and bacon. For us, it’s chocolate and ice cream.”
“I never thought of it that way. Now, seriously, can I get more or are you going to assault me with your spoon?”
“Are you speaking from experience?”
“It was a fork.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, it’s not a fond memory,” he said with a sigh before leaning in to point to his forehead. “See? I still bear the scar.”
Sure enough, there was a small wrinkled spot near his temple. “What on earth did you do for a woman to try to stab you with a fork?”
The way he pinched his lips stubbornly only made her more curious. “Ben…”
“It was Mia.”
Her jaw dropped. Mia was Christopher’s little sister. Christopher, Ben’s best friend. And she was some ten years younger. “What the heck?!”
“What?” he asked in surprise at her tone, before quickly sobering up. “Hey! She was five! I tried to steal some roasted potatoes from her plate at dinner. Didn’t see it coming, and next thing I knew I was bleeding all over the Graysons’ tablecloth.”
“You tried to steal food from a five-year-old?”
“Well, first of all, she started it.” He stealthily stole another spoonful of ice cream, humming in approval. “And second of all, don’t you think I paid enough? She almost ruined my good looks.”
“How old were you?” she asked in a stern voice, struggling to keep a firm mask of disapproval on her face when he visibly squirmed in his chair.
“That’s beside the point.”
“And seeing your natural propensity for stealing people’s food, I also doubt she really did start it,” she deadpanned as he shoved yet another spoonful of sundae in his mouth. It brought a smile to his lips, a genuine, good hearted smile, not the usual charming grin he sported, and she was surprised at the softness it brought to his eyes.
He swallowed and licked his spoon clean. “Touché. You have great sundae tastes, by the way. I wasn’t sure about the two different sauces, but it works.”
“Years of research.”
“Why do I picture an Excel spreadsheet?”
“Probably because that’s exactly what I used.”
He laughed, lightly shaking his head. A strand of hair fell on his forehead and he distractedly pushed it back, mumbling about needing a haircut. He seemed to decide he had stolen enough of her lunch and sat back in his chair, hands crossed over his stomach, his gaze getting lost as he took in the street and the people passing by. Silence fell between them, slightly uncomfortable at first. It surprised her that Ben did nothing to break it, because the man loved to talk. So much that she had always thought he hated the calm. He was always bursting with energy, the heart of the party, really, something she usually found rather exhausting. He was an extrovert, one who needed to be surrounded by noise and laughter and if there was none, he would be the first one to remedy the situation.
After a few minutes, though, she relaxed. He was lost in thought, and she was trying to come to terms with what had happened in Doctor Langton’s office. She had hoped that, by coming home, she’d be able to leave the bad memories behind. She shouldn’t have been surprised that he had been informed about what had happened, but she hadn’t expected to be confronted with it that way. She would have preferred he ignored it rather than the poor dismissal he had given to the whole thing. Somehow, it made everything worse.
Her appetite suddenly gone, she pushed back what was left of her ice cream.
“Done?” Ben asked right away, startling her. She had almost forgotten he was next to her.
“Yes.”
He grabbed the cup, polishing it off in record time before standing up to throw it in a trashcan. “You want something to drink?”
She grinned as he sat back next to her. “No, thanks. Saving that for O’Malley’s.”
“Wise girl.”
“I like to think so.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Hum. Yes?” she said hesitantly. Usually, when people asked for permission, it meant that the question was serious or personal.
“Why do you have your hair up?”
Or not.
“I usually put it in a bun when I work.”
“It makes you look-”
“Older?”
“Yeah. Not that it’s bad,” he rushed to add. “At all. Just wondering.”
“I work in a male-dominated field, and I got my Master’s when I was twenty-one. Looking older is one of the few things I can do to make them take me a little more seriously.”
“The fact that you graduated so young isn’t enough to prove you know what you’re talking about?”
She snorted. “If I was a man? Yeah, it would be. Graduate young when you’re a dude, it means you’re a genius. Graduate young when you’re a girl, it means you’re extremely inexperienced and naïve compared to the others.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, Ben. Seriously.”
“Fuck. I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“My gender? I feel like someone has to apologize.”
“Yeah, you guys really suck sometimes.”
“We do,” he agreed with a nod. “Can I ask you another question?”
“If it’s about my make-up-”
“Nope. Where are you from?”
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Well, Chris, Evie, and I are from Hedera, Oregon. Violet grew up in Syracuse, Harper is from Arkansas, Ian is a pure New Yorker. I just realized… I don’t know where you’re from.”
“Why do you care?”
“We’re friends. We should know this kind of stuff about each other.”
“Are we really friends, though? No offense, but I always thought we were more like… acquaintances. With common friends.”
“You slept in my bed.”
“Half of the female population of this city did, too.”
“Please. It’s only a third, last time I checked.”
“Slowing down?”
“Turning thirty will do that to you,” he said with a deep, regretful sigh. “Thirties are supposed to be when a male like me is in his prime, but that’s also when you start having back aches when you sleep in your guest room and not your own bed. By the way, how old are you?”
“Twenty-five. And I’m from Philadelphia.”
“Parents, siblings?”
“Parents are still married. One older brother.”
“You’re close?”
She shrugged. “Not really. I mean he’s my brother, and I kinda have to love him, but we’re good with the occasional phone call, you know?”
“And your parents?”
“They really wanted me to work at Penn State. That’s where they teach. So they got a little bitter about that, but they eventually got over it.”
“What do they teach?”
“Dad teaches biometrics and mom biology.”
“Family of scientists, I see.”
“Yup. Brother is a surgeon, too.”
“You were the rebel, then. Preferring numbers to people.”
“Yeah, nothing screams rebel like a math nerd.”
“I’m sure you considered dying your hair red or something,” he whispered conspiratorially. “You can tell me. Your secret will be safe.”
She lowered her voice. “It was purple. And I actually did it the summer before senior year in high school. Mom almost fainted.”
“Purple? Go big or go home, huh?”
“Yup. Especially since I had to bleach it first. Took forever for my hair to grow out of the color. I had to dye it brown for years so it wouldn’t look weird. Learned my lesson.”
“I once had to dye my hair green for a dare, but it was one of those spray things that wash away.”
“Small player,” she huffed condescendingly.
“I had to dye all my hair,” he specified.
That made her pause. “All your… noooo?”
“Yup. I miscalculated the spray thing and… well, I had a rash.”
“On your…”
He nodded, his mouth almost pouting. “Ruined my game for weeks.”
“Did you… did you go to the doctor?”
“Yeah. Not one of my fondest memories.”
She hid her mouth behind her hand, staring at him. “Oh my God.”
“That’s what the doctor said, but I think it was because of the size of my-”
She slapped the hand that was covering her mouth over his own lips. “Don’t you even dare finish that sentence,” she chuckled.
His eyes crinkled as he gently lowered her hand. “It’s unnecessary now. You have the mental picture.”
“Yeah, I’m picturing a Hulk-colored penis.”
“As long as it’s also a Hulk-sized one, I’m good.”
“You did not just say that.”
He gave her a shit-eating grin. “I did.”
“Have you ever been told that you really are a pig?”
“Numerous times,” he said with a nod. “But between you and me, I never really understood why. I have impeccable table manners.”
She slowly cocked an eyebrow. “You literally admitted in front of me that you have the habit of stealing people’s food.”
“OK. I’ll give you that one. But I give as good as I take. Table-wise and… otherwise.”
“Thanks for the info.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Might have been a little too much, though.”
“Yeah, I figured, but I had already started my sentence,” he said sheepishly with a small shrug.
“You are incorrigible.” With a smile on her lips, Madison stood up. “We should head to O’Malley’s or all the tables will be taken.”
Ben nodded with a quick glance at his watch before following her. The streets were getting busier by the minute, it seemed, and it took them longer than expected to walk the two hundred yards or so separating them from their usual pub.
She startled when he grabbed her arm just before they turned the corner leading to the entrance.
“Sorry,” he said apologetically, lifting his hands. “Listen, before we get in, there’s something I’ve been kinda wanting to ask you.”
Her heart stopped a little at the seriousness on his face. For some reason, seeing Ben serious made her uneasy.
“I need a favor,” he explained, and she relaxed a little. Good. It wasn’t a personal question.
“Yes?”
“I’m looking for someone to come with me to a gym next Saturday.”
“Hum… what?” A gym? Why on earth did he need someone and… why on earth did he think she was the kind of someone who liked to go to the gym? On a Saturday?!
“Yeah. See, it has to be a chick.”
“Excuse me?”
“I was asked to volunteer for self-defense classes. You know. As… a punching bag or whatever.”
“Self-defense… what?” she asked again, trying to make sense of what he was telling her. Ben Ackerman, self-defense instructor? Where the hell did that come from?
“See, one of my friends told me about this center having a hard time finding guys willing to step up, and I’m a good stepper-up as you know.”
“That word doesn’t exist. And no, I didn’t know that.”
“Well, now you do. Anyway, I can’t ask Vi because duh, Everleigh is busy cooking a kid, and Harper has erratic schedules. That leaves you.”
“I feel very special. Again.”
“Sorry.” He had the decency to wince. “Came out wrong. I mean, you’re basically my last chance. I didn’t want to bother you with this since you came back just a few weeks ago, and you’re probably busy with work or stuff, but I really need someone.”
“But for what? I’ve never done self-defense, I don’t see how I could help. I’d basically be like all the other women in the room.”
Ben let out a slow breath, shifting on his feet and shoving his hands in the pockets of his slacks. For a second, she was taken off guard by how uncomfortable he seemed to be.
“Is there something you’re not telling me? It’s not like one of these weird classes where people do things naked, right?”
“What the fuck? No! It’s a serious class, that’s why I need someone serious with me.”
“But… why?” she repeated. It’s not that the idea of self-defense classes was abhorrent to her. She had even started to entertain the idea of going but hadn’t worked up the courage yet. It was just that Ben wasn’t making a lot of sense, and she was way too used to his pervy personality to go in blind. There had to be a catch.
“OK, Madison, you don’t know this because we don’t know each other that well, but…”
“But?” she encouraged, thinking that maybe underneath all his cocky behavior, he was insecure for some reason. Maybe he was claustrophobic, and the gym was in a basement? Or maybe he had an inferiority complex and-
“I have a banging body.”
Definitely not insecurity, then.
“You… have a banging body?”
He nodded emphatically. “You’ve only seen me fully clothed, and even though my suits are tailored to flatter my broad shoulders-”
“They’re not that broad,” she interrupted distractedly. He was well-built, definitely, but on the leaner side. Ian was more muscular. Chris was also a little more buff.
“OK, well, there’s no need to be mean.”
“It wasn’t an insult. You’re very easy on the eye, you just have a leaner body type.”
“Yes, see, that’s the problem. I am very easy on the eye.”
She rubbed her forehead, getting more confused by the second. “Is it really a self-defense class or are you dragging me to an underground Mister Manhattan contest?”
Because that would definitely be Ben’s style, now that she thought of it.
“I’m just concerned the ladies will take advantage of my extremely arousing body.”
“Extremely a… you have got to be kidding me.”
“I wish. My life would be much simpler if I looked like Chris.”
“Chris, the dude who looks like a Greek God?” she snorted. She wasn’t even exaggerating. Everleigh had picked the perfect candidate for her baby daddy, because the gene pool was strong with that one.
“Greek Gods had small dicks, you know.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot about your Hulk-y appendage.”
“So will you come with me? Please?”
“You’re really serious?”
“Yeah.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again as she tried to work through the complete nonsense he had just fed her.
“Let me get this straight… you volunteered to help an instructor for self-defense classes for women?”
He nodded dutifully. “Yes.”
“Women who go to these classes to learn how to defend themselves against men, right?”
“Yes.”
“And somehow, in your brain, you took that as them going there to drool over the instructors?”
“Yes. I mean, no. I just don’t want to distract them with… all of this,” he explained, his hands waving down his torso. “If they think I have my girlfriend with me, they’ll focus more easily and-”
“Whoa… what?! Girlfriend??”
“Well, duh. Why else do you think I can’t ask Vi?”
“No.”
“What? Why?” he whined as she went around him and opened the door.
“Because I think fake-dating should stay firmly where it belongs, and that is a cute rom-com with Ryan Reynolds and Sandra Bullock.”
“I wasn’t gonna ask you to pretend we were engaged to fool immigration,” he snorted as he held the door open for her.
That made her pause so suddenly, he bumped into her. “You know which movie I’m talking about? Even the plot?”
“Shut up.”
“Oh my God. Ben Ackerman watches romantic comedies in his spare time,” she squealed.
“Mia-”
“Put a gun against your temple and made you watch?”
He glared at her, taking a hold of her elbow and guiding her toward the back of the bar. “No. She broke her leg in her last year of high school, and Chris and I took turns staying with her until she was comfortable using her crutches. I think I have seen every possible cheesy movie on earth from those days.”
“Oh.”
That was actually awfully sweet. That didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to have fun with that little piece of extra knowledge, though. “So which one was your favorite?”
He threw her another glare as they found an empty table and sat down.
“Come on,” she insisted. “There must have been one.”
With a deep sigh, he sat back against the booth. “Fine. Ten Things I Hate About You, but that’s just because Heath Ledger is a fucking legend, OK?”
She gasped. “It’s my favorite, too! The best scene is when-”
“When he sings Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You,” he finished at the same time.
“Yes!”
He nodded. “That’s a huge classic. Hard to top. So, you’ll come with me, right?”
“No.”