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“She’s fifteen,” he reminded her.
“Yes, I know. I was fifteen. I wanted to go to private school for my junior and senior years.” She was paying more attention to him driving than to the scenery going by them. He was looking very good this afternoon in jeans and a gray button-up shirt, two buttons undone.
“What did your parents say? Why didn’t you just ask them?”
“I did ask, but my father said the public school was good enough. It took a while for them to find out. My sister helped me enroll since she was eight years older than me and had three kids with her. Which meant they never questioned if I was hers or not. A month later, when Mama and Papa found out I was already in classes, it was paid for, and to unenroll me would have been a hassle for them. I was punished and went on with my life. They never said anything about it again, not even the next year. Or later.” She looked out at the freshly planted black fields.
They still didn’t talk about it, ever. The only indication that she graduated from anything was a picture on the wall of her in her graduation gown. But they did not take the picture, Tasha did. They did not attend the ceremony, nor was there a party afterward. She didn’t even know if they knew she graduated third in her class… probably not.
“They never said anything?” he asked in surprise and reached over to squeeze her knee for a second before pulling away just as fast.
“Oh, sometimes someone will mention the fancy school I went to, but they could also be talking about college. I was the first in my family to attend a fancy college also. I do not know and do not care anymore.” She then changed the subject, tired of talking about her family or about how much different her family was from other families. “So, are you done planting yet?”
“Not yet. A few more days, but it was too wet today. See? I was not busy, Tess Thorn from the bank.” He reached over and squeezed her knee again but left his hand there this time. His hand was warm, and it sent tingles throughout her body.
“It is just how I introduce myself on the phone. And I did not know if you would recognize my voice.”
“Because of any other Tesses that might call?” He grinned at her.
“Sorry.” He probably hadn’t wanted her to call either; he was just being polite.
“I knew it was you when you called me Mathias. Nobody but you calls me that,” he informed her.
“Really? Nobody? But it is your name, and it is so nice,” she asked in confusion.
“Thank you, but I have always just been Math. Has it always been Tess?”
“What? How did you know?” She stared at him.
“I didn’t, but when you were passed out, someone texted you and called you Tere.… I don’t know how you pronounce it,” he said.
“It is just short form of Teresa. My sister says it takes too long to type my whole name out,” she admitted.
“But she doesn’t call you Tess, which is also short for Teresa?”
“No, she never has.” Of course, nor did she call her Teresa, ever.
“So, Teresa Alexandra Sophia Thorn?”
Tess was surprised he had remembered her middle names. She bit her lip because she wanted to correct it for him, to have him say her name as her parents had named her and not the Americanized version. But instead, she said, “Yes.”
They pulled up to a chain restaurant, and Tess was surprised the ride had seemed so short. They had actually gotten along very well. Better than she had expected. But she was waiting for the bomb to drop to where he couldn’t stand her again. It always seemed to happen.
As they were led to a table, Math’s hand rested on her back, shifting around slightly as she moved. It was just enough to send a shiver down her spine. God, her body craved his touch.
Menus were handed out, and they were looking over them when Math asked, “Do you see anything that looks good, Teresa?”
She set her menu down, slapping his to the table as well. “Do not call me that. It is not my name anymore.”
“You can’t just quit your name,” he argued.
“I can, and I did. I have my reasons,” she stated and drank from the water glass in front of her.
“Then give me one. Then I will decide if I’ll drop it. Maybe I’ll keep calling you that until you stop calling me Mathias.” He was grinning as he said it.
“I have a sister-in-law who shares my name, and I cannot stand her. And I do believe you like that I call you Mathias.” It was also her mother’s name, as well as four of her nieces and countless great-nieces. It was a common name in her family. That was truly why she didn’t use it anymore.
He stared at her for a minute, just staring at her with his blue eyes. They were making her feel uncomfortable. “I will not call you anything but Tess. I do like you calling me Mathias. It sounds different when you say it.”
