Archive of Our Own

It’s cloudy as they cross the George Washington Bridge. From her seat near the front of the bus, Rey glances at the western shore of Manhattan before turning back to the main focus of her attention: Mr. Solo. Her art teacher.

From the moment he glided into the classroom five minutes late - something about getting lost in the convoluted hallways of St. Stanley’s - Rey was head over heels for him. It wasn’t just his thick black hair that she longed to card her fingers through or his massive frame that she felt positively attuned to. Rey would never be so shallow as to waste her daydreams on someone based solely on physical appearances. No, it was deeper than that. Like it was destiny.

She could tell by the way that he talked about artists and their creations. As he clicked through the projection slides, explaining Van Gogh’s use of color and Monet’s impressionism, Rey sensed how much he loved what he was teaching, so she loved it too. She was never one for paintings before - soccer took up most of her time since she was only at St. Stanley’s because of her scholarship - but she fell in love with them, often staying up late doing her own research on her phone and writing the best essays that she’s ever written.

“You’re an amazing writer, Rey,” He said as he reset the projector. It was the day before their field trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Class had just ended, yet the room was already empty - side effect of being the last class of the day. Rey always lingered, though. She was never in a rush when it came to Mr. Solo.

“No, I’m not.” Rey shook her head and hoped her blush wasn’t obvious.

“Your analysis of Renoir’s Luncheon of the Boating Party was really well done. More on a college level than high school, if I must say.” He finished his task and looked up at her. “And you should know I don’t hand out compliments.”

“I know, Mr. Solo.” Rey tucked her hair behind her ear and tightened the grip on her backpack strap. “Thank you.”

“Have you been to the Met before?” He asked as he walked to his desk.

Rey followed. “No. Is it big?”

“Enormous,” he explained as he packed up his bag. “There are literally thousands of art works on display. You could stay there all day if you wanted to and it still wouldn’t be long enough to see everything.”

“Wow.” Rey tried to imagine herself in a place like that. It seemed scary, a constant reminder that she’s just a speck in the span of the human race and will soon be forgotten, crushed by the artifacts and artwork that came before and will be around long after she’s gone.

“It can be daunting, I know. But I make a great tour guide.” He smiled and Rey’s heart fluttered.

“Okay,” She said as she trailed him out of the classroom and into the hallway.

“See you tomorrow, Rey,” He said in a knowing voice, like he could tell she was sticking around longer than necessary. And she knew she was, she just couldn’t help it.

“Bye, Mr. Solo,” She chirped before quickly turning on her heel and racing down the hallway. She was late to soccer practice. Again

As the bus pulls to a stop in front of the Met, Rey wishes that they could wear normal clothes instead of their school uniforms. There are only so many ways one could style a dark blue blazer and plaid skirt. She can do so much better with her ripped skinny jeans.

“Okay guys, listen up!” Mr. Solo stands up to explain how they’ll get in. Rey tries to pay attention, but is too distracted by his forearms, now bared to the world as he had rolled up his sleeves during the bus ride. It is hot in here, Rey thought. Maybe I should take off my jacket. Unless I have pit stains. Oh my God, do I have pit stains?

Rey contemplates her jacket as they walk up the cold stone steps to the museum and into the marble lobby. Even in what seems like a crowd of thousands, Mr. Solo stands above them all. She watches as he walks to the ticket counter and then motions for everyone to come over.

“Here.” He hands her the first sticker. “Stick it to your jacket.”

“What if I want to take my jacket off?” Rey asks without thinking. She wants to die.

He blinks and she swears his eyes glance down to her chest before coming back to her face. “Then put it on your shirt.”

She doesn’t have time to go to the bathroom and check her armpits so she stays with the jacket, placing the sticker above her breast.

“Okay guys, once you get in feel free to explore whatever you like. We will meet where the bus dropped us off at 2pm to go back home,” Mr. Solo instructs once they pass through security and are officially in the museum. “And here’s your lunch money, please don’t leave the building. The food here isn’t actually half bad.”

The kids take their money and split off into their friends group, leaving Rey all alone. None of her soccer teammates take this class, nor was she smart enough to befriend anyone throughout the year. She was too busy falling in love with the teacher.

“Where are you planning on going, Rey?” She turns to him, his eyes almost pouting and his hands shoved into his pants pockets.

“I don’t know.” Rey clears his throat. “But if I recall correctly, you promised me a tour?”

His lips tighten into a deep smile, dimples etched onto his cheeks. “I believe I did.”

He takes a few steps forward before gesturing with his head for her to follow.

She does.

It started with a genuine question. “Mr. Solo?” Rey knocked on the open classroom door before sticking her head in. It was study hall and everyone was working on their more intensive subjects, like math or science. The art room was empty.

“Hi, Rey.” He looked up from his laptop. “How are you?”

“Good.” Rey made her way over to one of the comfy armchairs he keeps beside his desk for students to sit in as he helps them with their papers. “And you?”

“Oh, wonderful.” Once Rey sat down, he turned towards her. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yes.” Rey took a deep breath. She’d been building up her courage all day to ask. She studied her Converse instead of looking at him. “Who’s your favorite painter?”

“My favorite painter?” Mr. Solo repeated, taken off guard. Rey looked up and found amusement in his eyes.

“Well, you talk about so many artists…” Rey almost lost her nerve at the way he was looking at her. “I mean you must have a favorite.”

“I do. You’ll see him when we go to the Met next month.” He smirked.

Rey bobbed her head. “Cool, cool.”

Mr. Solo waited a second before speaking again. “Is that it?”

He peered up through his eyelashes, like he was daring her to say what she was truely thinking. She never really noticed his eyes before now - they’re the most gorgeous color amber she’s ever seen.

“Why are you here?” She asked. “Why are you teaching at St. Stanley’s?”

Mr. Solo’s face fell as he fidgeted in his seat. The first time she’d ever seen him anything but perfectly composed.

“I needed a fresh start,” He said before clearing his throat. “Why are you here?”

“Huh?” Rey sat up.

“I know you mouth along to the prayers during Mass.” He chuckles. “And you're on scholarship, unlike most of the other kids here.” He leaned towards her, resting his arm on his chair. “Why St. Stan’s?”

“Um…” Rey picked at her cuticles. “It’s better than the public school I would’ve gone to otherwise.”

“So it was your choice. Not your parents?” Mr. Solo clarified.

“Yeah.” She tucked her hair back. “They don’t care where I go as long as it’s out of the house.”

“I can relate to that,” Mr. Solo said, almost absentmindedly. The clock ticked as they both absorbed what she said.

“You want to go to college?” He asked.

Rey nodded. “Definitely. As far away from here as possible.”

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He was looking at her so intently it made Rey squirm.

“Sorry,” He apologized, snapping out of whatever state he was in and turning back to his desk. “You just remind me of myself when I was your age.”

“How so?” Rey hoped he didn’t notice how she scooted her chair closer.

“You’re lonely.”

Rey’s immediate reaction was to refute this - she had a whole soccer team of friends - but the more she thought about it, the more she realized he was right. She eats lunch with them, but she doesn’t hang out with them. None of them even know where she lives.

“Smart,” He smirked.

Rey blushed. Did he just turn towards me? I don’t remember his leg being that close to mine.

“But you’re way prettier than I was.”

Rey almost choked on her spit. “I doubt that,” She managed.

“Trust me,” His eyes gave her body a once-over. “You are.”

Rey went to tuck her hair back behind her ear again, but Mr. Solo beat her to it. His hand burned as it grazed her ear, but she didn’t hate it. She wished he kept touching her.

“Thank you,” Rey whispered. His eyes were so intense again, she wanted to disappear and expand at the same time.

“You’re welcome,” he said, placing his hand back on the arm of his chair.

It was as if time froze as she reached out her fingers, imagining grazing them along the veins, up his forearm, his bicep--

RING!

The school bell caused them both to jump. Rey scrambled to her feet, backpack straps twisted around her shoulder.

“See you tomorrow, Mr. Solo,” She breathed out. She used the last of her courage to look at him one more time before exiting into the hallway.

He was also standing, a flush spread up his neck and to his ears. “See you tomorrow, Rey.” He echoed.

She smiled before running to practice.

Neither of them acknowledged that moment again for the rest of the month. Rey thought he forgot about it, they way that he barely glanced at her, but she didn’t. She thought about it every night before bed. No one had ever looked at her like that. Like she was an artwork all her own.

Then he offered to give her a personal tour of the Met and now she wasn’t so sure. As he leads her into the European Sculpture section, she tries to focus on the statues that fill the large atrium, but she can’t stop staring at Mr. Solo.

“You know you should really take advantage of your time here and study the artwork instead of me.”

Rey glances down, embarrassed. “What’s that one?” She points to a random statue.

“I don’t know,” Rey squints at him. He throws his hands up in exasperation. “I teach European paintings, not Roman sculpture!”

She shrugs. “If you insist.”

Mr. Solo bites his lip before walking back to Rey and bringing his hand to her lower back. “Fine, let’s show you what I know.”

Thank God I kept the jacket, Rey thinks to herself as they walk upstairs. I definitely sweat through my camisole.

It’s like a maze. Room after room of paintings. Rey never knew there could be so much art in one place.

“Have you come here before?” She asks as he expertly leads her towards wherever he wants to go.

“Many times,” Mr. Solo says. “I used to come here every other week when I was in school.”

“Lonely is right,” Rey teases. He narrows his eyes at her. She giggles.

“Here.” He suddenly brings her to a stop in front of a painting set against an emerald green wall. “This is my favorite.”

The first thing Rey notices was the brilliant blue of the sky. It looked so deep like she could stick her hand through it and it would become part of the painting. The clouds and buildings on the edges of the frame were so detailed, Rey questioned for a moment if this didn’t include photographic references. But then she saw the way the water was painted - how brimy and layered it looked - and she knew it had to be the product of hand and not machine.

“Venice, from the Porch of Madonna della Salute. Eighteen thirty-five,” He explains from behind her. “One of Joseph Mallord William Turner’s most acclaimed paintings.”

Rey glances back to look at him looking at the artwork. “It’s beautiful.”

“What do you like about it?” He asks.

Rey observes the painting more closely. “I like the details of the buildings. Especially that white one.” She points to the building on the right side of the frame. “It contrasts with the opaqueness of the sky and the water, which take up most of the canvas.”

She can feel Mr. Solo move his hand from her back to her shoulder and squeeze. “Exactly,” he whispers, voice full of vindication.

He leads her to another painting, this one much darker in color palette than the first one. Rey picks out peasant buildings and more water. The sky is obscured here, probably by smog or clouds.

“Saltash with the Water Ferry, Cornwall. Eighteen eleven.” He points at it. “Notice all the people hidden in the shadows.”

Rey notices how thick and large his fingers are.

“Turner had such an eye for detail.” He brings his hand back to rest on Rey’s other shoulder. “He noticed what other people would’ve normally overlooked.”

Rey grips the end of her skirt, knuckles white. “He’s not the only one,” she whispers.

“Oh yeah?” His tone comes off as genuinely curious.

She looks up at him. “I see you, Mr. Solo.”

He blinks, stunned. Rey doesn’t back down and maintains eye contact with him, daring him to tell her off. But as expected, his face softens into a small tight lip smile as he squeezes her shoulders like an affectionate father.

“There’s one more Turner painting here.” He walks to the other side of the room, making Rey trail after him.

He stands in front of what seemed like a blank canvas with paint spilled on it. Only after staring for a few seconds could Rey make out the white sails and purple head of a whale in the foreground.

“Whalers. Eighteen forty-five. Not his best work,” Mr. Solo explains.

“I can see that.” Rey crosses her arms in an attempt to hide the shaking of her hands. He makes me so nervous.

“Do you have a favorite artist?”

Rey turns to Mr. Solo staring intently at her. “Uh…” She racks her brain for an answer. “I’ll know it when I see it.”

Mr. Solo chuckles. “Well, we’ve got all day.”

They walk from room to room, Rey glancing at each painting to see if any spoke to her. None do, until she was struck by the portrait of a tall white lady, dressed in a black dress with silver straps.

“Who is that?” She asks as she approaches, almost as if she was in a trance.

“Madame X, or Pierre Gautreau,” Mr. Solo answers, following Rey with his hands behind his back. “This was done by John Singer Sargent.”

“John Singer Sargent,” Rey repeats. She can’t look away from the woman’s profile.

“You like it?”

“I love it.” Rey traces her curves with her eyes. “She’s everything I want to be.”

“And what is that?” Rey doesn’t miss the low tone he took on.

“Mysterious. Confident. Sexy.” She sighs, her nerves abating for a few seconds for truth to come out.

“You already are some of those things, Rey.”

She turns to him. “Which ones?”

Mr. Solo shakes his head. “I think it’s best not to say.”

Rey huffs.

He laughs at her. “Here’s some more Sargant.” He gestures to the opposite wall.

They spend the rest of the day with him. Rey maintains that her favorite was Madame X, a choice that Mr. Solo greatly approves of. When it was time to leave, Rey couldn’t believe it. They didn’t even eat, they were so engrossed with the art. Or with each other, the baser part of her brain told herself.

Rey drags her feet toward the entrance. Mr. Solo notices her slow pace. “Are you tired?”

She nods.

“You can sleep on the bus ride back to school,” he says matter of factly.

“Yes sir,” she says sarcastically. She doesn’t expect his back to go ramrod straight or for him to almost trip on his own feet. “Mr. Solo?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he squeaks out. “Let’s just get back to the bus.”

Rey watches him disappear in the crowd ahead of her before trekking on.

She couldn’t sleep. Her stomach kept her awake, rumbling periodically to remind her how neglectful she’d been. Mr. Solo looked just as miserable in the seat across from her. His tie was loose and he had both hands threaded in his hair, like he was nursing a headache.

When they arrive at the school, everyone quickly disembarks and goes their separate ways. Despite being at the front of the bus, Rey is the last to get off. She doesn’t have to go to soccer practice on account of the field trip, and she really doesn’t want to walk home.

She doesn’t know how long she stood there on the sidewalk in front of the school before he tapped her shoulder.

“I feel bad for keeping you from eating. If you like, I can get you something as I drive you home?” He must read the shock on her face as disgust because he quickly backpedals.”Or I could just drive you home, if you like.” He tilts his chin up in a display of confidence, but Rey can sense his nerves. She reaches out and grazes the cuff of his shirt.

“I’d like that. A lot.” For some reason the fresh air is making her bolder.

“Great.” He adjusts his shoulder bag. “My car is this way.”

Once they’re inside, Rey turns to him. “I’d think I’d prefer something homemade, if that’s okay.” This is different now. The barriers that kept them from each other in school are gone now.

His gaze sends a shock through her body. “Works for me,” he says as he switches into reverse.

He lived in a modest two story bungalow in the quiet part of town. It’s clean and put together, yet empty of any sense of home. Rey feels terribly out of place.

“What would you like, I can make some chicken, stir fry, soup even…” Mr. Solo lists out from the open kitchen on the other side of the room. Rey takes off her Converse and makes her way over.

“Whatever you want, Mr. Solo.” She leans against the granite countertop.

“Please, in my house, I’m Ben,” he says as he takes out rotisserie chicken.

“Right. Ben.” Rey loves the way it rolls off her tongue.

Soon enough, she has a plate of chicken and steamed vegetables in front of her. It’s a bachelor’s meal, but more filling than anything she’s had all day. She gulps down two glasses of water afterwards.

“I’m sure your parents are wondering where you are by now,” Ben says as he takes their dishes to the sink.

“They think I’m at soccer practice right now. I still have an hour until I have to get home.” Rey gets up from her spot at the table and falls onto the couch. Ben joins her.

“I don’t mean to pry, Rey,” he starts. “But may I ask why you don’t like being home so much?”

She shrugs. “I feel like a burden when I’m there. I think they’re only together because of me, and they don’t even bother to hide it.” Rey sniffles. “I feel so alone.”

He reaches out and places a hand on her knee. “You’re not alone.” Rey looks up from her hands and sees that burning gaze again.

“Neither are you.” It feels like the right thing to say at the moment, and guessing by his hitched breath, it is.

She leans in, and he does too, but they both hesitate inches from the other’s lips. There would be no going back from this.

“Ben…” Rey whispers, almost like a plea, to make everything alright.

“Starlight,” he utters under his breath.

Rey closes the distance. His lips are plush and warm and taste like chicken as she lets him take whatever he wants. It’s nice to be wanted, she thinks as he brings his hand up to her jaw.

He doesn’t need to know that this is her first kiss.

“Mmm,” he moans, opening her mouth wider to stick his tongue in. Rey hums in response, finally threading her hands through his hair. It’s just as smooth as she hoped it would be.

He pushes her back until she’s lying down and he’s holding himself on top of her. After a few more minutes of making out, Ben pulls back.

“We can stop now, if you’d like.” He pushes back her hair and caresses her cheek with his thumb.

“Why’d you call me ‘Starlight’?” Rey asks.

“Because that’s what you are,” he says, like it's obvious. “My little star.”

“Really?” She smiles.

“I see you too, Rey,” he says, gaze hardened.

She wants to cry, nobody has been so kind to her before. Or gentle. She knows that this is not how it should be, but frankly, it never felt like the rules really applied to them. They were always the exception.

Rey starts to unbutton her jacket.

“You don’t have to do that,” he warns.

“I want to.” She continues taking off her jacket. “Is that okay?”

Ben smirks. “It’s more than okay.”

Rey untucks her shirt and unbuttons it as well, stripping down to her white camisole. Her nipples poke through the thin fabric, and she can tell that Ben can’t take his eyes off of them. He slowly reaches down to brush his fingers over them.

“I know they’re small-” Rey starts but Ben’s angry stare shuts her up.

“Don’t even start, Rey,” he scolds as he takes off his tie with his other hand. “Never apologize for your body.”

“Yes, sir,” Rey says absentmindedly.

Ben stiffens again, like he did at the museum, but this time there’s a knowing glint in his eye before capturing her lips in his.

“You better stop calling me that,” he growls into her mouth. “It’ll be the death of me.”

“What? Sir?” Rey asks innocently.

“Mmhm,” he hums before pulling up her camisole to reveal her bare breasts.

“God,” he breathes out. “You’re so beautiful, Rey.”

She blushes as he leans down and sucks a nipple into his mouth. His hand fondles her other breast, leaving Rey gasping.

He releases her nipple with a smack, a trail of spit running from one tit to the other as he continues biting and sucking.

Rey pulls him up by his hair. “Can you take your shirt off?”

Ben quickly unbuttons it and takes off his tank top, revealing a broad pale chest. Rey’s eyes widen as she trails her fingers down his pecs to his stomach.

“That feels so good, you have no idea,” Ben shudders.

“When was the last time someone touched you like this?” Rey asks.

“Months. Maybe even a year,” He copies her movements on her own chest, tracing the underside of each breast and counting her ribs.

“Why so long?”

“No one ever grabbed my attention. Not until you.”

Rey smiles. She reaches for his belt, but he grabs her wrist. “Before we go there, I, uh, need to warm you up.” His ears turn red.

“What do you mean?” Rey asks as he scoots down to sit in front of her bent knees.

“Just… let me take care of you first,” he says as he kisses her knees, large hands trailing up her legs. She watches with half-hooded eyes as he peels off her plain black underwear. He pushes up her skirt, getting closer and closer to her center with his mouth.

“You’re shaking,” he remarks, squeezing her thighs affectionately as he settles in front of her.

“I’m nervous,” Rey admits.

“Don’t be,” he presses a kiss to the crease of her thigh. “Relax and enjoy yourself, starlight.”

Rey gasps. His tongue licks a trail up her cunt, totally consuming her. Rey has never felt anything like it. He totally envelops her. She loves how she can fit in every part of his body.

He groans. “You taste so good,” he mutters before sucking at her clit. Rey instinctively reaches down and grabs his hand.

“Oh my God,” Rey breaths out, her hips rocking on their own accord. She arches her back as Ben inserts a finger.

“You’re so tight,” he moans, watching his finger disappear inside her. “Does this hurt?”

Rey shakes her head.

“Do you think you can take another?” He asks. Rey nods, sitting up this time to watch him insert his index and middle finger. It’s the most erotic experience of her life.

He slowly thrusts them in and out, maintaining eye contact with her. Rey reaches forward and kisses him, relishing in the sensation of her lips on his as he finger fucks her. It makes her dizzy.

“Ben.” She falls back to the bed, her orgasm suddenly right on top of her.

“What?”

“I’m about to…” She has the couch in a death grip, putting all her focus on the knot in her core that’s about to come undone.

“Do it.” He picks up the pace, quickly thrusting his fingers in and out. “Let go for me, starlight.”

With those words, she’s there. She gasps for air as it washes over her and he doesn’t let up for a second, licking her up for all she’s worth.

“You look so pretty when you come, Rey,” He says as he sits up, bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking her essence off.

“Thank you.” Rey doesn’t know what else to say. “Am I ready now?”

Ben smirks as he unbuckles his belt. “You tell me.”

As he shoves down his pants and underwear, Rey knows what her answer is.

“Yes. Please,” Rey watches with wide eyes as he settles back in between her legs. He rubs his cock through her wet folds.

“Tell me if anything hurts, okay?” He asks.

Rey nods. Ben leans down and kisses her as he notches the head at her entrance. She wraps her legs around him and presses her heels into his back.

He slowly slides in. Rey gasps at the stretch, his two fingers nothing compared to his long, thick cock. It borders on painful, but she likes it.

“Fuck,” Ben breaths out. “Holy shit.” He forces her to look at him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Rey whines. “Please, move.”

Ben pulls out until just the head is inside before pushing in again. They both moan in pleasure.

“You feel so good,” They both say at the same time. They laugh, before focusing back on their fucking.

Rey pulls up her skirt so she can get a better view of their intercourse. She watches as he disappears inside her and wants to cry. It’s more beautiful than any of the paintings she saw in the museum earlier in the day.

“This is unreal,” Rey says, looking back up at Ben’s face.

He chuckles. “Think again, starlight.”

He thrusts again, harder this time. Rey yelps, but the smile on her face encourages him to do it again, and again. He doesn’t take his eyes off her bouncing tits as he fucks her.

“I’m close,” he says into her ear. Without a second thought, Rey brings her hand down to her clit. She’s already so close - still sensitive from her first orgasm - that it overtakes her within seconds.

Ben stutters at the clenching of her walls, her squirming underneath his large frame. “Fuck, Rey, fuck.” He empties himself inside of her and almost smothers her with his chest as he collapses on top of her. She doesn’t mind though - the heat or the sweat - it’s the closest she’s been to anybody in years. A part of her doesn’t want him to get up.

“Damnit,” he sighs after a minute, pulling himself out. “You’re on birth control, right?”

“Mmhm,” Rey lies. The chances of her getting pregnant are so low, anyway.

“Good girl.” He collapses next to her. “Perfect little Rey.”

Rey catches her breath, still in shock of what just transpired. There’s no hint of regret though. She would do it all again if she could. Perfect little Rey.

He almost falls asleep next to her, but Rey doesn’t care. She cards her fingers through his hair and touches his hands to her heart’s content. She even starts to fall asleep herself. A half hour passes in this way before Ben stirs.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” she teases, pressing a peck to his nose.

Ben smiles. “You should get going now. So your parents don’t worry.”

Rey’s stomach drops. “Yeah, you’re right.” She kisses him one more time before pulling down her camisole and reaching to the floor for her button-up.

She doesn’t realize she grabbed Ben’s until she’s slipped it on, sleeves reaching past her hands. He chuckles.

“How do I look?” Rey asks, posing like a model.

“Adorable,” Ben answers. “I wish you could bring it home.”

Rey takes it off. “I can’t. My parents would notice.”

They’re quiet as she gets dressed again, the reality of their actions settling in. Ben suddenly sits up.

“Oh shit, I should drive you home, shouldn’t I?” Ben reaches down for his pants.

“I can walk. I usually do, anyway,” Rey says as she pulls on her underwear. She ignores the sensation of cum pooling in the fabric.

“You sure?” Ben asks again.

“Yeah,” Rey certifies. “I can handle myself.”

Ben smirks. “I don’t doubt that.”

He waits for her to tie on her Converse and pick up her backpack before touching her again. He grabs her shoulders like he did at the museum and pinches her chin. “We can’t do this again, Rey.”

Her heart splinters. She knew this was too good to be true. This was only a break in reality - everything would go back to normal when she arrives at school tomorrow.

“I know,” Rey whispers. He looks so sad. I want to make you feel better.

“Do you think you can keep this a secret?”

“Of course.”

“That’s my girl,” he says before leaning down to kiss her. Rey stands up on her tiptoes to meet him halfway. By the time they pull away, she’s light headed.

Ben opens his door. “See you tomorrow, Rey.”

“See you tomorrow, Mr. Solo,” Rey replies before stepping out into the cool, twilight air.

They never kiss each other again. They are never so much as alone in the same room ever again. Rey is hurt at first, but after a while she realizes it was for the best. Who knows what could have happened if they continued. So she locks the secret inside her heart and carries it with her for the rest of her life.

Instead she watches him from afar and imagines. Imagines going to his house after school and laying in his bed. Imagines the things he’d whisper in her ear as he fills her to the brim with his spend. When her period comes a week after the field trip, a part of her is disappointed. Any physical reminder of their affair is gone.

Her mind doesn’t forget though. Even after she graduates and goes to school in California, she buys a print of Turner’s Venice painting and tapes it to her wall all four years. When she gets her first house, she purchases a reproduction on canvas and hangs it in the foyer.

Her husband thinks Turner is her favorite painter. She doesn’t bother to correct him - only one person knows who her true favorite is.

Sometimes she wonders where he is, what he’s doing. But he’s not on social media - there’s no way of finding out. Whenever she gets in one of those moods, she takes out her senior yearbook and turns to the last page.

Rey,
You were always such a joy to have in class.
You have an eye for art that many don’t - your papers were some of the best I’ve ever read.
I will never forget our day at the Met. I didn’t care much for John Singer Sargant before, but now I have a picture of Madame X in my study. I think of you every time I look at her. You are everything you think she is and more.
I wish we met ten years from now. It would make things so much easier. But my feelings for you would be the same. They always will be.
Until we meet again Starlight,
Ben