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He cocks his head. “I guess. But it doesn’t sound as cool. SP sounds more badass.”
“Are you allowed to say badass?”
He looks up at me curiously, and I stare back, a bit uncomfortable being alone with him. Not because he’s not a nice kid, but because I have no idea how to act around him. My experience with children is almost non-existent.
“I have a question,” he blurts out.
I swallow. “Okay.”
“Do you not like kids?”
I fumble with a response. “Uh . . .”
There’s a determination in his gaze that reminds me of his father. “Because I’m not a kid. I’m twelve.”
“I thought you were no longer a kid when you turned thirteen.”
“Well, I guess. But I’m mature for my age.”
I nod. “Right.”
“So, do you like my dad?”
“You like taking people by surprise.” I laugh tightly. What am I supposed to say to that?
“I want you to like my dad because he likes you.”
My cheeks get hot. I look everywhere but at the kid watching me. “He might like me, but you don’t even know me. Why do you want me to like your dad so much?”
He lifts a hand to his chin and contemplates that for a few beats before smiling proudly. “My dad hasn’t had a girlfriend since before I was born, and I think it would make him happy. Plus, you’re cool. Dad showed me some of your hockey games on YouTube, and you were pretty good. Is it true you won a gold medal at the Olympics, or did he lie to make you seem cooler?”
Okay, there’s a lot to unpack there. “First, he’s never had a girlfriend? How is that possible? And yes, I did.”
Cooper’s eyes light up with victory, and I mentally curse myself for showing my cards. “He tells me he’s been too busy, but I think he just hasn’t found someone he likes enough. That’s why I think you should date him.”
“And what do you know about dating?”
He balks. “Gross stuff. Like kissing and holding hands.”
I can’t help but smile at the way he curls his nose in disgust.
“That’s it?”
“I’m only twelve, Scary Spice.”
“Okay, we have to stop with that nickname,” I huff.
He grins. “Too late. We love it.”
“You might love it, but I do not.”
“Maybe you’ll grow to love it like you will my dad.”
My breath hitches. My answer comes out on a shaky exhale. “Maybe.”
“Maybe almost always means yes,” he states, throwing a celebratory arm up in the air.
Suddenly, my skin prickles with awareness. His presence is heavy and grabs my attention as effectively as if he had said my name. I turn my body toward the hallway and gasp.
