The Historian

“Are you a time traveler?”

Ben frowned. “No?”

Lila giggled, batting her lashes at the handsome man she had just met at her favorite bar.

“Are you sure? Because I see you in my future.”

Ben’s frown seemed to deepen, but Lila could swear there was a smile fighting its way through his gloom. She waited for a moment for him to crack a grin, but when he didn’t, she hurried to speak.

“Oh, don’t be so dull! I was only trying to say that you’re handsome!”

And he was—insufferably so. How could a man possess such a set of deep dark lashes? Hair too, the color of the deepest sea. Lila refrained from pulling her face closer, but had to admit, she had tried to catch his eye all evening. This was the last resort.

Ben only shook his head, but his shoulders drooped slightly, hand swaying his drink.

“I suppose that’s nice, it’s just…” he clicked his tongue, then took a sip of his whiskey and licked his lips. “Nevermid.”

Lila blinked. “What?”

“It’s nothing,” Ben mumbled, looking away.

“No, tell me. You must! Now that you’ve started.”

Ben pulled his lips to the side, eyes traveling through the bar. Lila stared after him, trying to find the object that had stolen his attention. There were old wooden tables, laid with various foods and drinks, red, velvet cloths sitting on their surfaces. There were also many antique lamps, golden and pearled, ones that Lila had admired before she found Ben here. She tilted her head to see if that was what Ben noticed, but found his gaze lingering on an entirely different object. A pretty blonde, sitting at one of the said tables. For a moment she was sure that was who Ben had found, and she wouldn’t blame him—her crimson lips were the color of the cloth, brown eyes fluttering like that of deer. Hell, she’d stared at her for longer than a moment.

But Ben’s eyes weren’t stuck on her, just slightly above her.

Lila raised her eyes and found an old clock, ticking to the quiet jazz around them. Ben seemed to count the seconds, and Lila did her best to not jump out of her chair and shake him, force him to tell her all his thoughts.

Would that be awfully improper?

She settled on “so?” instead.

Ben finally sighed, looking between her and his drink.

“It’s just that,” he paused, looking entirely too smart as he tried to think of a way to phrase his thoughts, “well, it doesn’t make any sense. If I were a time traveler, how would you see me in your future? It’d have to be the other way around, if that was the case.”

Lila opened her mouth to argue, then closed it, looking away. No one had ever questioned that line before, and she never thought to think it through.

“Oh, well, sure. You’re smart, aren’t you?” She tried to laugh, but suddenly felt awkward. Until a new quip came to mind. “Or maybe you’re an actual time traveler, and I hit a sore spot?” She wiggled her brows, hoping to see that hint of a smile.

Ben only sighed.

“A man with common sense, is all,” he muttered into his drink.

Lila preferred to ignore that remark, especially when his beautiful eyes traveled across her.

“Well, if not a time traveler, then who do you work as?” She took a sip of her own drink, a cold prosecco in a crystal flute that hopefully Ben would pay for. As long as she could keep him entertained enough.

“I’m a historian.”

Lila feigned a gasp, placing her palm over her heart.

“Beauty and brains! What am I even doing here?”

That finally made Ben crack a grin, and Lila felt her heart quicken beneath her palm.

“What does a historian do?” she hurried to keep the moment.

“Study the past.”

Lila sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes. “Am I boring you that much? Enough for you to hope I’ll lose interest with your dry answers?”

Ben huffed a laugh and Lila pulled herself closer, lowering her voice to a playful whisper.

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, but I prefer your silence—i’ll do the talking if you do the touching.”

Ben stiffened, nearly spitting some of his drink back into the glass. Lila only giggled, delighted to get any reaction out of the statue of a man.

“A historian studies, researches and interprets the past, uncovering the buried truths,” Ben said, deciding to be the one talking after all. Lila pursed her lips, pretending she was disappointed.

Ben threw her a dry glance, and she couldn't keep her sour expression.

“See, that sounds a bit more fun!” Her nails tapped her lip, a devious smile already pulling on her features. “When did the Great War begin?” she challenged.

“October 3, 1921.”

“What about the Cold War in the East?”

“June 4, 1983.”

“Oh, it’s June 4th today isn’t it? Though 36 years later. Should we drink to peace?”

Ben raised his glass and took a sip. Lila did the same.

“Hmm, what about the end of the Veiled War?” she asked after a moment.

“September 1, 2009.”

“Actually, it was September 2nd,” she grinned at Ben, who looked utterly confused for a moment, “it was called Veiled for its hidden nature, as you say. Most celebrated on the 1st, but the bombs didn’t stop falling until the second.”

“Well, it depends whose side you count. But yes,” he gave her a curious look, “do you study history yourself?”

“Surely not as much as you do, but yes, I enjoy the subject,” Lila didn’t even try to hide the smugness as she said it.

A spark lit in his eyes.

“The Romish Collapse?” he asked, brows raised in question.

“301 BC. The beginning of the Iron Route?”

“1201. The burning of Alexandria?”

“1451. The beginning of the Modern War?”

“July 6th, 2019.”

“Aha!” Lila gasped, smiling deeply, “I won! That didn’t happen!”

Ben took a long sip of his drink, stealing a glance at the old clock before he returned the smile to Lila.

“Yet.”