Monday, February 3rd

Gently tossing his bags into the small booth, Eden slid in and leaned over the table. “I’m so sorry. I got stuck after class.”

Dean replied with a light chuckle and a smile. “It’s fine. Shit happens.” His response was calm and sweet and Eden smiled back, glad to know he wasn’t mad. “Why’d you have to stay? Get in trouble already?”

“Do I seem like someone who causes trouble? It’s a photography class Justin made me take, but I don’t have a camera.” He elbowed the large bag next to him. “The instructor was nice enough to let me borrow one, so I had to go get it.”

“Oh. Cool.”

It became awkward in an instant, neither having much to talk about, and Eden slouched, the atmosphere around them pushing him heavy into his seat. They didn’t have that kind of relationship, the kind where you could easily make small talk, and they weren’t exactly friends. Eden took a breath, knowing he came to apologize and wanting to get it over with.

“I’m sor-“

“I ordered for you,” Dean said over him and he choked on his words. “Oh, sorry. What were you going to say?”

Eden only shook his head, feeling more uncomfortable now. “Nothing. What did you order?”

With another warm smile, Dean pointed to the specials list at the end of the table. “Clam chowder. Probably not as good as home, but I know you like it.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond. Once, after a late night hookup, he’d told Dean his family was originally from Cape Cod and he was really craving a good clam chowder. Growing up, that mix of creamy broth, soft potatoes, and chewy clams was his favorite comfort food and he missed it after moving. It was just an offhand comment from months ago, a random thought that he said when he was feeling down. He didn’t even recall the moment until now. Yet Dean had remembered. If he knew the things Eden thought during sex, or the things he had said about him - Eden really didn’t deserve any amount of kindness from this man.

“I’m sorry!”

The words leapt from his mouth, almost a shout, and he drew back in his seat. There was a moment of quiet, then Dean chuckled. The sound was comforting somehow.

“What are you sorry for? And why so urgently?” Dean chuckled again, making Eden flash him an embarrassed smile.

“I don’t know why it came out that way...” He grabbed at the back of his neck. “But I’m sorry, for that night. I know I said it then, but I wanted you to know I meant it. And for disappearing, without even sending a text. It was an asshole move. I had a really bad day and was taking it out on you.”

Dean’s smiled dimmed and he shifted in the booth. “I knew you meant it... And that’s the nature of our relationship, isn’t it? I was too sensitive.”

“No, you weren’t. I shouldn’t have used you that way.”

“Is that why you wanted to have lunch? To apologize again?” His expression darkened and he sounded disappointed, almost upset. It was far from the expected reaction. “I didn’t need another apology, so we’ll just put it behind us, okay?”

Eden nodded. The atmosphere between them was even more strained than before, and it didn’t seem like Dean was completely satisfied leaving it this way, but he didn’t know what else to do. Saying more right now would probably just make it worse.

While he was thinking, the waitress brought his chowder and Dean’s BLT. At least they both had an excuse not to speak, each slowly eating in silence. Picking at his food, Eden pulled his phone out, distracting himself by searching for anything he could find on Keller. Justin was correct – he was well-known and popular, at least as a photographer, yet strangely secretive. Page after page after page was filled with articles on his shows and exhibits, and interviews about his work and process, but there wasn’t much on the man himself. He didn’t even seem to have a first name.

As he scrolled through some of the older articles, a gossip blog headline about marriage jumped out at him. Reading through, it turned out to be a divorce, saying that Keller had divorced his wife of two years and had postponed a few of his traveling exhibits. Checking the date, this article was over three years old, and he continued to skim to see if he could find out more.

Halfway down the page was a picture and the little chowder left in his mouth flew out as he choked and coughed, covering his phone and the table in tiny, white droplets.

“Shit!” Dean cried, quickly grabbing a handful of napkins and reaching over to help wipe things off. Eden took a couple and cleaned off his screen, too stunned by the photo to even notice anything else.

“What happened?” Dean was seated next to him in the booth now, looking at the phone gripped tightly in his hand. “Wow. You look exactly like her. Is she family?”

He barely shook his head in response. The picture of Kell’s ex-wife was identical to him – the same dusty blond hair, longer, but soft with a gentle wave, and gradient blue eyes, light at the pupil and darker at the edge. Thick eyebrows closer to brown stood out against pale skin, a long nose and full, pink lips – they all matched. He wasn’t particularly effeminate, and she wasn’t masculine, yet they were so similar they could be twins.

Dean pat him gently on the shoulder to get his attention and he finally pulled himself away from the photo. “You really don’t know her?”

He didn’t, but now every playful look and teasing tone and odd back-and-forth made sense. Eden felt his face warm and he clenched his jaw until it hurt.

“I have to go.” Without an explanation, he stuffed his phone into a pocket and grabbed his bags, almost shoving Dean out of his way. Seeing the surprise and distress on his face, he paused. “Sorry. I’ll call you.”

Then he turned and rushed from the diner. Hitting the sidewalk, he secured the bags to his back and picked up his pace until he was racing toward campus. It hadn’t been too long. He might still be there.