I really should’ve chosen a less busy area to disconnect at.
“Oh, hi.” My eyes widen when I see Walker’s mom standing in front of me.
“How are you?” She smiles, but I’m still not over the text message fiasco from a few weeks ago.
Is it ever okay to face a parent after venting why you hate men?
“I’m good, and you?” I place my cup on the seat beside me, unsure if I should stand to talk to her or remain seated but too many seconds have ticked by that if I get up now it’ll be awkward.
“I’m good, doing some shopping.” She lifts the bag in her hand.
“That’s nice.” I nod, feeling so weirded out by this encounter.
It’s probably all in my head. I’m a pro at making situations much worse in my mind than they are in real life and that in turn makes it weird because I react how I think it is in my head. It’s twisted.
“How’s Walker doing? He talks about his class all the time, telling us about the fun activities you’ve done. Thank you for making his transition so easy for all of us.”
“It’s my pleasure. He’s adapted so well that it seems he’s been with us since the beginning of the school year. He was so excited Nate was in class today. I mean, Deputy Moore.” I bite my tongue and grimace at the pain, but it’s better than the awkward smile Mrs. Lundsten is giving me.
“He was really excited to show off his uncle to his friends.” She laughs.
“He did.” I nod and smile at the memory of Walker’s beaming smile when Nate walked into the class. “He was a proud nephew.”
“That’s great, and I’m glad he’s doing well. I’m sure having Nate there will be good for him, although at times I wonder if those two teaming up is for anyone’s best interest.” She laughs as if I have insider information on her son’s relationship with his uncle.
“I’m sure,” I tell her because I really don’t know what else to say.
“I’m going to go. Thanks for the unofficial update on my son’s progress.”
“No problem.” I watch her walk away and sigh deeply.
I’m much better at interacting with kids than adults.
Chapter 8
Lizzy
Myeyesstareatmy phone screen as I take a blind bite of pasta, engrossed in the story I’m reading. For some reason, no one’s in the lunchroom today, which means I get to read in silence for thirty minutes. It’s a rare occurrence that I’m taking full advantage of.
When the door swings open, I groan and look at the intruder with my fork-full of food in my mouth. My eyes widen when I see Nate standing there holding a brown paper bag. Something about the view makes my heart clench and race at the same time like muscles tightening during a sprint.
“Hey.” He nods and walks around the table, sitting across from me.
Can’t he sit like on the side so I don’t have to stare at his gorgeous face? I mean, it’s pure torture.
“Hi,” I say when I’ve swallowed my food, thankful I remembered my manners.
Nate takes out a sandwich and bag of chips, placing them on his flattened paper bag, creating a makeshift placemat. I keep my attention on my phone, but the words on the screen are a blur. I’m attuned to the man across from me silently eating his lunch.
I should make conversation, but my voice is gone. I’m suddenly the Little Mermaid and he’s Ursula, who stole my voice. If Ursula were a man and wicked handsome.
When I glance up, I notice he’s looking at me. Shifting in my seat to sit straighter so I’m not slouched over like a slob, I smile tightly.
“How’s your first week going?” I finally ask.
“It’s good.” He shrugs.
“Ah, a man of few words,” I joke.