I sipped my coffee, it tasted like the barista had charred the grounds, but I didn't care, I was in desperate need of the caffeine, burnt coffee would suffice. I stared at my blank screen, I watched the cursor bounce over and over again, silently mocking me and my blocked brain. The words just weren't coming to me, they hadn't been coming to me in weeks, but it felt like months. The ultimate curse for a writer was not being able to write and I hadn't been able to write a thing, not a paragraph, not even a sentence. Nothing but that throbbing cursor at the top of my screen.
"Ella? Hello? Ella?"
I looked up from my screen and suddenly the coffee shop seemed utterly noisy. I had no idea how long I had been staring at the blank page.
"Ella?"
Good grief, I hadn't even looked up yet.
It was a familiar face in front of me, but one I hadn't seen in years.
"Mr. Paulson, hey. How are you? What are you doing here in the middle of the day?"
"No school today, should be working in my classroom but decided to play hooky. And please, call me Eric, Mr. Paulson makes me feel old."
We both chuckled, but "old" was certainly not the word I would've used to describe him. He was my former high school English teacher and one that every single girl in my class had swooned over. I was one of the few and fortunate students who had been placed in his classroom all four years so we had been able to form a closer bond that I didn't have with any other teacher before or since him. We have kept casual contact with each other over email since I graduated but we hadn't actually seen each other since my high school graduation, it has been four years since then, so seeing him now was a pleasant surprise.
"What are you doing here in the middle of the day Ella? No high profile journalism job to be at?"
"I wouldn't call it "high profile", but I did just recently accept a staff writer position at the Portland Tribune. I've only had a couple bylines so far, but I'm still grateful for the job. I'm on my lunch break."
"You were such a talented writer when you were in my class, I can only imagine how much you've grown in your four years at college. You recently graduated right?"
"Mmhmm, this past May. I'm actually working, or trying to work on, a novel too. Having a bit of writer's block these days."
"I'd love to hear more about it but I have to run. I'm meeting a friend for lunch now but we could have dinner this Saturday if you'd like, it would be nice to catch up some more."
I was surprised Eric suggested having dinner together, we had never socialized outside of a classroom and even though I was an adult now, I was wondering if it was appropriate to have dinner together. His hazel eyes were shining, his crooked smile seemed genuine, so I thought it would be alright to accept.
"Will your wife join us? Should I try to scrounge up a date?"
"Oh no, not necessary. Olivia is with the kids at her parents' in Bend until Monday, it'll be just us two. Is that okay?"
"Sure thing, sounds great. I'd love to hear more about those kids of yours."
"Great, here's my number. Shoot me a text later and we'll finalize the plans."
Eric scribbled down his phone number on a napkin and handed it to me. When our hands touched I felt an instant surge of heat race through my skin, my hair stood on end, my stomach dropped. I quickly realized that my fingers were lingering in his hand and I snatched my hand away, my cheeks instantly felt warm, I felt so absurd.
"See you Saturday Ella."
"Yeah, see you then."
As Eric left the coffee shop, I buried my face in my hands. I was so embarrassed. I had no idea why my body reacted to the touch of his hands like that. I had never had even a single romantic thought about him, he had been my teacher, my mentor, my confidante as a teenager, this feeling was strange.
