You.

                                    

                                          
He annoyingly fixed his scarf for the fifth time.
One thing that Benedict Bridgerton hated about New York was the cold bloody winter. I mean, London wasn't that much different, but somehow being away from London made New York seem colder. If that made any logical sense. He had moved to New York after his shortly failed art career in London, not to mention his string of failed relationships with half of the art scene.
Yeah, he was a bit of an idiot between the ages of 18 and 27.
Benedict was the last of the Bridgerton's to find a fit. Anthony had recently married Kate, Colin was off 'exploring' the world, Daphne and Fran were married off with children, Eloise was some hotshot lawyer travelling with her current fiancée in under privileged countries protesting for better health care. It seemed every Bridgerton had a purpose. I mean, even the youngest Bridgerton's were thriving with Hyacinth becoming a popular teen model in London, and not to forget Gregory who had a starting position for a popular London based football team.
Benedict had moved to New York with his art degree and decided to take up teaching in NYU. It made sense. Being on a different continent would get his mother and Anthony off his back about finding his 'thing', and he had found a career here, a promising one.
The only thing he hated was the bloody cold.
He had been in New York for a few months by now. He had an apartment not far from his teaching campus. It wasn't huge, but it was perfect for him. He had made a few friends from work, and even some from his local dive bar. The owner of said dive bar was Matty, who was also British, and the two of them instantly bonded. The man was eccentric, but then so was Benedict on the odd occasion, so they got on well.
Benedict was pushed forward at work to teach some local art classes for some 'mature' students that wanted to venture into their creativity. Other professors had explained doing extra circular activities like this made the dean favour the department – which in turn meant more funding. Benedict instantly volunteered to take some classes and come up with some fun ways of getting art back into the community. His ideas were welcomed by the head of the department, Joanna, and he spurred on from there. He had a few ideas lined up, with some sketching, finger painting and some nude live drawing – the last one was always a crowd pleaser.
Benedict had enjoyed all the activities with his class so far, and they were all pretty enthusiastic. There was Tom who was an elder gentleman whose art skills were unlike anything Benedict had seen before. The elder gentlemen explained he always loved art, but his family required him to earn a steady pay check. The life of the artist wasn't an option for him. This broke Benedict's heart. Not everyone was as fortunate as the Bridgerton family, something Benedict found out quickly growing up. He felt a lot of shame and guilt over that for a very long time. Also in the class it had a few mums ranging between the ages of 35-45 who all took quite a shine to a young British 30-year-old Benedict.
It was safe to say this class kept his attention.
"Right class, set up your stations!" Benedict said as he dropped his belongings at his usual desk. He smiled as he greeted his regulars, and then he spotted another professor he had met on a few occasions over the other side of the classroom biting her fingernails anxiously.
"Gen, what are you doing here?" Ben had a quizzical look on his face. Gen was also a professor but for creative art and design – which was the next building along. So she didn't really have a reason to be here. She stood up, "Oh Hi Benedict..." She looked over his shoulder and tilted her head, "...well if you must know, I'm here for moral support."
Benedict arched his eyebrow, "For who?"
Gen giggled slightly, "Eh the model."
Benedict shook his head, "Ah of course. You know him?"