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“There are three, a five-year-old, a seven-year-old, and a nine-year-old. It was crazy like always, but I love it. It’s good money for not much time and it’s more fun than a typical job.”
“Do you have to work nights a lot? Like when parents go out?”
“No, I’m more of a nanny, like taking care of them after school, doing dishes, making a simple dinner, or warming something up. Then, in the summer, I’m there all day. They never ask me to work nights or anything. I think they have someone else who they pay less for that,” I say with a laugh. “Why? Do you want to make sure my nights are free for something else?”
“It might’ve crossed my mind.”
“Davey?”
“Yeah?”
“Today was fun.”
“Maybe for you. I sweated through both my shirts. I was so intimidated by you.”
I laugh. “Seriously?”
“Hell yes. You could go head-to-head with anyone. You never seem freaked out.”
“I don’t know, not much scares me. My dad always told me that the worst someone could say was no. I kinda live by that, makes most things seem less scary.”
“Does anything scare you?”
I pause and my heart starts beating fast.
Because he kinda scares me.
I’ve dated other boys and kissed plenty of them. But Davey has the potential to be more long-term. And maybe even the guy I do more than kiss with. But I like this reputation I have as being bold and brave, so I’m not gonna tell him that.
“Getting hurt, like, emotionally. Losing people I love. I don’t know, I guess it’s bigger emotional things that scare me.”
He’s quiet for a minute.
“I think that scares most of us.”
I smile at that. “Thanks for this, Davey.”
“For what?”
“Talking to me, being interested in me. A lot of guys only have one thing in mind. It’s nice to think that someone wants to hear about your day. I mean, I guess you might be do it hoping it gets you in my pants, but…”
“Rae McKinley, that was so close to being sweet.”
We both laugh.
“I wanna be your boyfriend,” he says, catching me off guard.
“What?” I choke out. “We haven’t even gone on a date yet.”
“I know, but I can’t help it. There’s something about you. I don’t want to be some chump who’sdatingyou. I want to be the guy on your arm, walking you to class, giving you kisses in the hallway that make teachers yell at us. What do you say?”
I think for a second. But I don’t know him well enough to agree to that yet.
“Tell you what,” I say, “hang out with me this week. Not at lunch because my friends are annoying, but in the evening, or we can talk on the phone, and get to know me more. And then if our date goes well, maybe the answer will be yes.”
“Okay. I like the idea of seeing more of you. How about ice cream tomorrow night, after you babysit?”
“Sounds perfect. I’m kinda addicted to ice cream.”
