“You excited for French toast sticks for lunch?” he asked.
Amaya’s eyes lit up. “I forgot!”
Ryan grinned as he turned onto the main road. Brake lights glared ahead in a never ending string. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered under his breath.
Amaya looked up. "Good thing we left on time."
Ryan forced a smile. "Good thing." He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. It was fine. They had a few extra minutes to spare, and it wasn’t the end of the world if he didn’t get to grab coffee before heading to the conference room.
He was already well-versed on the project they’d be discussing. An energy-efficient design for a new office building downtown. It was innovative, cutting-edge, and exactly the kind of thing that could put their firm on the map. But it was also a logistical nightmare. Hopefully they’d be able to knock out some revisions that morning.
His eyes flicked to the clock on the dashboard. 6:35. "Shit." He glanced at Amaya, who was still blissfully unaware in the back seat. "That's a bad word. Don't say that."
Amaya giggled. "People at school say that all the time. And the F-word."
“Mmm. Fantastic.”
“Don’t you say that?” Amaya looked up.
He pursed his lips. “Sometimes.”
“At hockey?”
He nodded as he finally made it to the turning lane.
“But you said those words make you sound unintelligent.”
“Yeah. I should find a different word.”
“What does it mean, anyway?”
“The F-word?”
Amaya nodded. “Toby says it’s about sex.”
Ryan frowned. “Who the hell is Toby?”
“That’s another swear.”
“Sorry.”
Amaya pulled a pen from her backpack and started doodling on her arm.
“Don’t draw on yourself.”
“Why?”
“Because the ink seeps into your skin.”
Amaya kept sketching. “Like your tattoo?”
Ryan glanced in the rearview and drew a deep breath. “So who’s Toby?”
“He’s in my class. He always wins tetherball.”
And talked about sex with his ten-year-old daughter, apparently. “We can talk about the F-word later, okay?”
“We still have to talk about lingerie. You forgot to tell me what that meant.”
