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“And if she says no?”
“You’ve waited a long time for this, Owen. I’d say don’t give up so easily. If she says no, then wait a week and ask again. If she isn’t right for you, make her prove it.”
I breathe out a little laugh. It isn’t what I expected him to say.
Miles—always sensible, always smart, always serving. He’s telling me to jump in blindly and go for it. I suppose I’ve already leapt. I just need to keep swimming.
So… maybe I’m gettinglooksin the teacher’s lounge. And maybe I can hear every single staff member whispering as I pass by. Clearly, a few people—orallthe people—heard about Sid’s show.
So, why it surprises me when my seventh graders are extra quiet and ten hands are in the air before I’ve even taken roll, I’ll never know. They know. Theyallknow. Only, the seventh graders don’t whisper amongst themselves. Nope, they aren’t afraid of asking questions.
I exhaust a breath from my lungs, my entire body clenching. I know what’s coming. I clear my throat—and pretend I don’t. “Yes, Rylee?”
“I knew it! I called it! You love her!”
No question warrants no answer. So, I point at Sam—who is actually raising his hand today. “Sam?”
“So, you’re like a thing with that lady who was here before, right?”
“Ask Annie,” Rylee tells him.
I clear my throat. “Not exactly. I’ve just given her some information… that she didn’t have before.” That’s it. The end.
Only with my answer, three more hands shoot into the air.
I spend the next fifteen minutes answering a few questions and completely ignoring others.
And then come my teenage matchmakers.
“Buy her flowers,” Rylee suggests.
“Those will die,” Brynn says. “Get her something that’ll last, like books.”
“Because that’s romantic,” says Stacey, her face cringing to show just howromanticshe thinks Brynn’s suggestion is.
“Lame,” Aven says, flipping through his science book. “All that junk is lame. If she’s really someone worth spending time with, make her play Call of Duty with you.”
“Ew,” Rylee croons. “You’relame.”
“It’s better than flowers. Who wants stupid plants in their house anyway?”
“I do,” Rylee says, crossing her arms over her chest.
Brynn turns away from both of them and mutters in sing-song under her breath, “Books don’t die.”
“Okay—time to science!” I point at Rylee, then Brynn. “Flowers. Books. I like it. Great suggestions, ladies.” I give Aven a sad half-grin. “Sorry dude, no Call of Duty this time.” Then I clap my hands together and call up my teacher voice. “Now tell me, which planet is closest to the sun. Anyone?”
Slowly, I get my students back on track—with only a few more Annie interruptions. I get it. I can’t get her off of my mind either.
Isit on the porch steps of Annie’s apartment complex, flowers in one hand and an Addison Adam’s novel in the other. I know Annie. I know her favorite author, and I know her favorite flower—yellow roses, which she likes even more if there are sprigs of baby’s breath throughout.
“Hey,” I say, standing up to greet her.
“Hey, O.” She swallows, her eyes glancing down at the gifts in my hands.
“These are for you.” I hold both gifts out to her.
She nods. “Thanks.” A shaky breath leaves her throat.
