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He already has supplies set up on the table, a large white fold out board propped up for us to display our pictures on, and an ancient looking Polaroid camera to take them with.
“We can work in here.” He leads me into the dining room that opens to the living room.
We spend the first few minutes deep in project discussion, divvying out the responsibilities between the two of us. We decide that Alec will do the pictures and track the progress and I will be responsible for the PowerPoint presentation. Which works well for me because that’s more my area of expertise anyway.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” I say as Alec reappears from the kitchen with eight different cans of soda in his hands. Leaning over, I dig into my bag, procuring the small box of treats I picked up from the bakery. “I brought you some goodies.” I set the box on the table.
“Are you trying to make me fall in love with you, Hope?” he asks jokingly, setting the cans down one at a time. “Because it just might be working,” he adds when I flip open the container revealing an assortment of cookies, cake pops, and blondies. All of which had just come out of the oven when I got there.
I know he’s only kidding about love, but his words still make my heart go ballistic against my ribcage.
“I had a few minutes to kill after school so I swung by the bakery on my way here.”
“Well, I’m certainly not complaining.” He pulls out a cake pop and slides it off of the stick, devouring the whole thing in one bite. “So good.” He moans as he chews, the action doing something wonky to my stomach.
Needing something to distract me from the direction my thoughts are going, I grab a blondie and take a bite. It’s good. Pat always makes the best blondies, but it still does little to draw my attention away from how sexy Alec looks standing next to me.
I jump slightly when the front door swings open and a middle aged, dark haired woman steps into the room, her arms full of grocery bags.
“Hi honey.” She smiles over at Alec who instantly moves to help her. “Thank you,” she says when he relieves her of the bags. Her eyes swing to me and they widen slightly, as if she’s just realized I’m sitting here. “Oh hi.” She smiles and I see where Alec gets his dimples from.
“Hi,” I squeak out, quickly standing to my feet.
“I’m Holly, Alec’s mom.” She closes the small space between us and extends her hand to me.
“Hope.” I smile, hoping I don’t have any blondie in my teeth as I take her hand and give it a soft shake.
“Hope.” She says my name like she recognizes it. “I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
Holly Murray is beautiful. Even with her messy ponytail and lack of makeup, it’s clear to see that Alec doesn’t get only his dimples from his mom. I briefly wonder what his dad looks like and what similarities the two of them share.
“It’s nice to meet you as well.” My throat is so dry I’m tempted to drink from one of the cans sitting on the table.
“What are you two working on?” she asks Alec as he reappears from the kitchen.
“Chem project,” he tells her.
“Chemistry, huh.” She looks over the mess of things spread across the table. “Wait, why does this look familiar?” She gives her son a look that I can only describe as the way my mother looks at me when she knows I’m trying to pull a fast one on her. The look is usually accompanied by the statementI wasn’t born yesterday.
“What? He didn’t say we couldn’t do a project we’ve done before. Besides, he doesn’t know.”
“Why am I not surprised.” She laughs, turning to head into the kitchen where she begins rifling through the grocery bags.
“Sorry about that.” Alec slides back down in the seat next to me. “Where were we?”
“I think we need to take pictures of the nails and tie the strings around the ends. Other than that, we’ve done all we can do for now,” I tell him, disappointment settling in my gut.
As much as I know I shouldn’t want to be here, I still do.
“Okay.” He reaches across the table and grabs the camera. “You want to take a picture of each nail and soda can while I tie the strings?”
“Sure.” I take the bulky camera from him and proceed to take pictures of each item. Once I’m finished and Alec has all the strings tied around the nail heads, we lower the nails into the cans one at a time.
“Hope,” Alec’s mom calls from the kitchen not long after we’ve finished cleaning up. “Would you like to stay for dinner? I’m making tacos.”
“Thank you for the invite, but I really should be heading home.”
“Oh come on. Stay,” Alec interjects. “My mom makes the best tacos.”
