Moonlit Surrender

"That wraps up today's class," Professor Wright informed them as he shut down the projector and began to gather his things together on his desk. The room was quickly filled with the low hum of the students gathering their own belongings and murmuring quietly to each other. "We'll have a test next week on this unit. Be sure to log into the class portal and download the practice test. I make them for a reason, people. I suggest you use every available tool to your advantage." Lucy slipped her notebook and laptop into her messenger bag and began to form a mental checklist of all the homework piling up that she'd have to find time for. She also still needed to purchase a couple books for her other classes and her car was still doing that shaking thing. She shuddered at the thought of having to ask Ben to help her. If he began backing her financially, then what was the whole point of working and trying to make it on her own? She had already violated her principles by moving in with him after a less than amicable separation from her parents. She knew it was a treacherously slippery slope from there. First he'd pay for the mechanic, then her classes, then all her bills and he'd start pushing for her to quit working. Then it would only be a matter of time before he'd pressure her to quit school, maybe even quit paying for it so she'd be forced to stay home and settle down. The more dependence one placed in another, the more they could take away.

"Lucy," Professor Wright called from the front of the room. "Hang back a second."

She felt her heart get stuck in her throat.

What did I fuck up now?

Calm down. It's probably nothing. He said your last paper was significantly better.

The rest of her peers left quickly, eager to get to their Friday night plans. Theirs was the last class on campus to let out and her classmates were always eager to leave as soon as possible. She heard a couple men complaining on their way out how unfair it was that Intro to Philosophy was only available at night.

Lucy looked down the shallow steps of the room to where John was gathering a stack of papers. His eyes flicked up and darted around the room surprised she had not moved an inch from her seat. "You can come closer, dear. I promise not to bite."

She laughed nervously and gathered her bags and descended past the other empty tables and chairs. "Was I supposed to stay late for tutoring tonight? I thought that was only on Tuesdays."

"No," he answered warmly. "You are correct. Our arrangement is for Tuesdays. Actually, I had something else in mind. Do you have any exciting plans tonight?"

"Other than pajamas and homework? No," she said and laughed. "I don't really do exciting things."

"Nothing planned with the fiancé?"

Her eyes rolled. "He's either already in bed or gaming with friends."

"Then since you're free, would you care to join me for a late milkshake at the diner down the street?"

She felt a sudden kaleidoscope of butterflies form in her abdomen, while thoughts ran through her mind.

Yes!

No! Bad idea!

Shut up! It's just a friendly late-night snack. He knows I'm engaged.

"Uh, yeah. Sure. I mean, yes. Yes, I'd like that."

"Wonderful. I have an errand I need to run beforehand, so let's say meet there in an hour?" he suggested as he checked his wristwatch.

She nodded, focusing on her balance so her suddenly jello knees wouldn't give out.

"See you there." He smiled, ushering her out of the room with a gentle touch in the small of her back as he opened the door for her.

***

"I'm just going out with some friends from class," Lucy answered Ben's interrogation from the other room as she leaned into the bathroom mirror to apply her mascara.

"What friends?" he asked, suddenly appearing in the doorway to peek his head in.

Lucy saw a grimace settle on his face in the reflection of the mirror as he looked her over. "Why don't you wear that one green dress my mom bought you for Christmas? Haven't you grown out of this whole 'goth' thing yet?"

Lucy felt her heart plummet. This wasn't the first time he had picked at her choice of fashion. The habit had been growing over the past few years. It obviously didn't match his Stepford vision for her. Sara, his brother's wife, wore every color it seemed but black. Lucy hid her hurt behind a dismissive eye roll. "You used to call me your gothic beauty."

"We were kids, Lu. We're adults now. Don't you think it's time to grow up finally? Are you going to keep dressing like Morticia when we have kids? Are you going to attend PTA meetings like that?"

She laughed sarcastically. "I didn't realize the color of my clothing was directly related to my level of maturity. Thanks for the heads up."

Ben huffed and left her alone to finish getting ready.

Lucy looked herself over one more time, looking over her torn cobweb tights, calf high platform boots, black mini skirt, and matching top. She smiled and did a little twirl for herself before she exited back into the bedroom. "Ben?" She was surprised to find their bed empty. He was usually fast asleep by now.

She grabbed her clutch off the dresser and stepped out into the stairwell. "Ben?"

"In the kitchen,” he answered after a moment. His voice was stern. He was clearly aggravated.

Lucy found him making himself a turkey sandwich in his boxers at the island counter.

"I won't be out late," she promised.

"It already is late,” he snapped without looking at her, punishing his slice of bread with the butter knife and mayo.

She couldn't decide if she wanted to strangle him or roll her eyes for the thousandth time that day. "I thought you'd be happy for me, for actually making friends. They invited me out. Ever since Emily moved away, you've been the only one I hang out with. You were the one who told me I needed to get out there."

Lucy tried to push out of her mind the fact that she wasn't actually going where she said she was.

"What kind of girls go out at this hour? It's already after midnight. Only the wrong types start their night this late."

"Ben," she sighed dramatically.

"Fine. Fine," he paused. "You just look so pretty tonight. I just know some creep somewhere is just waiting to hit on you."

Lucy didn't acknowledge his jealous worries. Anything she said would only get him even more fired up. It had been cute at first, but it was beginning to grow old. She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss before she hurried out. His instincts were pretty spot on, she had to give him that.

A short drive later, and she was pulling into the diner parking lot, trying not to squeal like a preteen at a boy band concert over the fact it wasn't just anybody she was meeting.

She shifted her car into park and internally battled with herself at whether or not to actually go in, or just leave and come up with an excuse when she'd see John in class.

She gripped her steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. "It's just a fucking milkshake," she argued out loud. "It doesn't mean anything. He's just being nice to a struggling student. He knows you're engaged. Stop overthinking everything." She let out a deep breath, nodded in agreement with herself, then headed in.

The twenty-four-hour diner was dimly lit with warm lights hanging over the booths. It was quiet, except for a few laughs from the kitchen where some of the staff were taking it easy now that business was slowing. There were just a few other patrons scattered across the room, a couple students hunched over their homework with a late cup of coffee and slice of pie by them and a small group of rowdy friends in the corner were having midnight pancakes after a wild night. The bored looking hostess behind the hospitality counter started to greet her, but before she could finish, John appeared behind her with as warm a smile as ever.

"She's with me," he informed her before outstretching his hand to escort Lucy to their table.

The hostess nodded, a strange familiarity between them as if he was a regular, then went back to the game on her phone.

Lucy felt her heart climb into her throat as she took her seat and watched John slide into the booth across from her, but as she looked into his cool gray eyes warmed by the gentle lighting hanging over the table, it plummeted right back down into her chest like a heavy brick as a nauseating sense of guilt churned in her belly.

His eyes wandered over her as he seemed to take note of every detail about her. She wondered what he thought of her, if he shared the rest of the small town's opinion on her alternative clothing or if he thought her makeup bordered on

'rodeo clown', as Ben had once so lovingly commented. Did he think her stupid for struggling in his class in the beginning or because she needed his personal help to focus on her studies? Was he taking note of any one of the thousand flaws she kept track of in the mirror each morning?

"I see you took the time to freshen up. You look lovely."

Her tongue twisted in knots as she tried to stutter out a thank you, unused to the compliment. Was it a trick?

"So, tell me why I never see you wear your ring?" he asked curiously as he motioned to her bare fingers intertwined on the tabletop.

Lucy touched the empty space on her ring finger. "It's a really big ring. It makes me nervous to wear it out. I usually only wear it to special occasions, or around him, of course."

John nodded as their waitress approached and asked them what they'd like to drink.

"A glass of punch for me, the stuff Cliff keeps in the back," he answered with a strange look between them.

"And for the lady?"

"Just a chocolate milkshake, please."

"Please, you must be hungry," John insisted. "I'd like to buy you a meal. Order anything you like."

She fidgeted her fingers in her lap and squirmed uncomfortably under his generosity, but took him up on his offer and ordered a pasta dish.

The waitress scribbled on her notepad and nodded before she hurried off to fetch their drinks.

John shrugged off his suit jacket and folded up the sleeves of his deep blue dress shirt. The soft light of the lamp above them danced in his eyes and across his face, highlighting the streaks of gray at his temples and the day's stubble on his whiskery chin. He looked rather pale and she wondered if he wasn't coming down with something, or perhaps just ragged from working late nights.

"Do you know the manager?" she asked, referencing the name he had dropped with the waitress.

"The owner is a friend."

"I'm sure that's nice since this is pretty much the only place in town open after 9 p.m."

He chuckled and nodded. "It has been convenient given the hours I keep. So, graphic design?"

She shifted awkwardly. "Yes. That's the plan. I'd love to work professionally, maybe move into a big city, or at least bigger," she said and chuckled.

He nodded knowingly. "Not a lot of room for the arts out here. I've spent most of my life moving around a lot."

"Were you military?"

He shook his head. "Just restless, I suppose. I've grown quite fond of this place though and have enjoyed my stay so far."

"How long have you been in the area?"

"I moved here for work. It's been," he paused thoughtfully, "oh, maybe a couple years now."

Her eyes squinted in disbelief. "You moved here to teach at a community college?"

"I wanted something slower paced."

"Well, you definitely found it here."

"I did," he smiled. "Is this your hometown?"

She nodded.

"It is natural at your age to want to get out and see the rest of the world. I imagine your art will take you to many interesting locales. Is it just digital art that you make?" "Mostly now, for the convenience. I used to paint when I had more time."

"I'd love to see some of your work."

She pulled out her phone and pulled up a folder in her gallery of her favorites and handed it to him to swipe through. "I also have a couple paintings on display in the art building, if you ever pass through there."

He was quiet a moment, studying the images he thumbed through. "Yes, I believe I will have to now. You're quite talented."

She blushed a deep shade of vermilion. "I don't know..." She laughed nervously.

"I look forward to watching where your inevitable success takes you."

He handed her phone back and they fell into a moment of the strangely comfortable silence they seemed to be making a habit of. If it had been anyone else, it would have felt awkward and she would have felt pressured to say something, anything, to make conversation. It was socially expected, and she was always aware of how inept she was at it, but the quiet John created around himself was nothing short of soothing.

"Do you ever feel like your life is scripted, already written out and determined and lived a thousand times by those before you?" she asked after a moment, to her own surprise. She had never asked someone anything like that before. Usually those thoughts were locked up and never uttered. Something about the silence had let her guard down and it had simply slipped out.

John's brow lowered thoughtfully. "If you knew my life, I think your question would answer itself."

"What has your life been then?" she asked curiously.

He hesitated again, all his answers careful and calculated. "Complicated," he smirked.

"Well that was super informative," Lucy jabbed playfully. "Now that I know everything about you, there's really no need to continue talking. I guess I can go now."

John laughed genuinely, something rare, a musical thing that was usually tempered by sarcasm or the commanding gravitas he exuded in his classroom, except for now. His smoky laugh was not intentional or rehearsed. It came unexpectedly, like sunshine in the rain. Lucy watched in awe, a strange pride swelling in her chest that she had caused it.

"I had no idea your goal for the evening was to know all about me,” he teased.

She could feel a deep shade of red creeping back into her cheeks.

"If you'd like me to talk about myself, I'd be happy to oblige."

"I would. I'd like to know more about you," she admitted softly, unsure if it was okay to request.

"It has been a long life, full of many strange things and unexpected turns. Perhaps at one time I felt that it was scripted, but no, not anymore. Things seem a little... random these days."

"Like what?" she asked, unaware of the way her body leaned in to catch his every word.

"Like meeting you."

"Me?"

"Our meeting has been memorable."

She had never received such a compliment and didn't know what do with it, but to try to shrug it off. "What's so special about me?"

"You're a very unique young woman, Lucy Beckett." He paused. "And you seem very familiar to me, in the way two strangers meet and wonder if it isn't for the first time."

Lucy smiled. "I would remember meeting someone so equally unique and a little terrifying."

"Do I terrify you, dear?" A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Well that introduction the first day of class was a little..."

"Ah yes, the torture of innocent young people."

Lucy had never thought gray eyes could be so pretty, such a bland color so vibrant and captivating now. They seemed to twinkle like far off stars when he teased her, a heavenly body distant and hiding all of its otherworldly secrets. "Yes, the torture," she smiled.

Chains and whips and that devilish smirk standing over me.

What the fuck? Rein it in, girl!

The waitress interrupted their oddly honest conversation as she set down Lucy's pasta and now that her attention wasn't stolen by this enchanting strange man sitting across from her for just a second, she noticed the rest of the diner was empty now, but for the staff exchanging rowdy jokes as dishes clinked in the sink and a dull hum of music thumped behind the walls. A young man with a messy head full of shocking red curls thumbed through the money in the register, throwing jokes over his shoulder to the rambunctious employees.

If only my manager were so easy going.

Lucy felt like an imposition on them.

"Actually," she stopped the waitress from walking off. "Can I just get a box? I'm not as hungry as I thought."

The girl nodded.

"So eager to leave me?" John asked.

"No! No, I..." She paused as she finally caught the playful glint in his eye. She laughed and leaned back. "You know, you're very sassy for a middle-aged man."

"Well the rule about not sassing your elders never explicitly said it was the other way around as well."

"Who knew such a dour and serious looking fellow could be so full of mirth and sarcasm?" she said and laughed again.

"Just a few, sweetheart." He turned to the waitress and handed her the cash owed with a little extra for the tip.

Lucy swallowed the last chocolaty gulp of milkshake and pushed the glass aside. "I just feel bad for them. They seem like they have a lot to do."

"I'm sure they wouldn't advertise themselves as a twenty-four-hour establishment if they didn't mean it, but we can end the evening if you'd feel more comfortable leaving. You bring your apron into class with you often. Are you yourself a waitress?"

"I'm a barista at the coffee shop around the corner."

"I'll have to start drinking coffee."

The waitress came back with a Styrofoam box and cleared away the table for them.

"Thank you," Lucy said softly to him. "You didn't have to pay for me."

He waved his hand dismissively as he rose and shrugged his jacket back on. "I was the one who invited you out, and a beautiful woman should never have to pay for her meal."

Lucy laughed nervously, his chivalry catching her off guard once again. "Where exactly are you from, Professor Wright?"

He simply smiled and offered his hand to help her up and carried her box for her as they made their way out of the building and into the cool night.

"You're like something out of a fairy tale or a movie." She chuckled nervously again as he held the door for her. She couldn't remember the last time anyone, even Ben, had done something so small for her. "I thought they stopped making men like you ages ago."

"A prod at my age?" He quirked a playful eyebrow.

"No," she smiled. "I just mean, where did a man like you come from?"

"Another time, I suppose." He stopped his sure pace as they reached the parking lot. "Now, are you really not hungry, or was all that just out of courtesy?"

She looked down sheepishly. "Courtesy."

"Then I suppose since I hold your food, I hold the power here." His long strides started again towards the only other car left in the parking lot.

Lucy debated quietly whether or not to follow him. She wondered how much trouble she'd be in already if Ben had witnessed their evening. Even though she knew it wasn't, it had felt like a date. This was John Wright though, one of the most interesting men she had ever met. She wasn't ready for the evening to end.

Against her better judgment, Lucy followed, trailing behind him as he led her to the black sedan a few spots away from her own vehicle. She saw him pull out his keys and heard the distinct click of the doors unlocking. He reached past her for the passenger door handle and opened it for her. She muttered thank you again, still unsure of how to react, and watched him cross in front of the car before sliding into the driver's seat next to her.

He started the engine and a soft, warm stream of air heated them with the faint melody of his radio turning on in the background. He handed her the food and looked at her for a moment. "Are you going to attempt to eat with your fingers, or should I take you somewhere with forks?"

She looked down at her pasta and thoughts started running through her mind.

Fingers. His fingers. Those thin soft looking lips licking sauce from his fingers.

My mouth sucking those fingers.

Lucy shook her head to quiet her overactive imagination. What was the alternative though? His place? Where was this night leading? "Uh..." She faltered. "I don't mind using my fingers." She opened the container and did her best to, as gracefully as possible, wrap a couple noodles around her finger.

"Have it your way. It smells delicious. May I steal a taste?"

She hesitated but didn't want to seem rude. "Of course." She slid the box over to her other knee to share with him.

John stirred a noodle with his index finger and Lucy watched as both finger and thick droplet of sauce disappeared between those lips she hadn't been able to stop daydreaming about kissing since the first day of class. His finger gingerly slid back out. She could imagine his tongue flicking around it, ensuring every last drop was collected. His eyes flicked up to her and she saw the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Fuck. He knows.

Lucy cast her eyes back down to her lap and did her best not to stare. He sampled a couple more dabs, but then seemed content to watch her finish the rest on her own as they sat once more in a peaceful silence, broken only by the occasional giggle as she attempted such a clumsy technique at noodle-eating.

When she finished, he pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to her to clean up. "Do you need a ride home or is that your car over there?"

Lucy quietly thanked him and dabbed any stray sauce from her lips and hands, before answering, "Yes, that's mine." She reached beside her and grabbed her keys out of her clutch, figuring it was his way of hinting at the end of the evening. Thank God. I don't think I can take anymore. This is ridiculous. How does he get me so flustered? This was such a bad idea.

"Thank you for coming out with me. I enjoyed our time together," John said, noticing her keys in hand.

She nodded, trying to hide the traces of guilt and longing that were surely written all over her face. "It was fun."

"Shall we do this again some time?"

Lucy hesitated. "Sure. Why not?"

He nodded and let her leave the car, remaining parked until he watched her cross the lot and get into her own vehicle. Once she turned on the ignition, he pulled out of the restaurant parking lot and drove off, leaving her alone to think on what had just happened as she watched the diner staff wiping down tables and chairs through the giant windows covered in various advertisements for their menu and deals.

She let out a deep breath and rested her head back against the seat.

He had said nothing suggestive, never touched her, never even hinted at anything inappropriate, yet was perhaps the most dangerous person she had ever met. There was just something about him that kept pulling her in. It seemed like he knew she wanted him, but did he want her too?