I let out a small laugh.” What?”
“My dad. Do you like him?”
“Of course. I work for him, don’t I?”
“Not like that. I mean like a crush.”
“Ah.” I instantly spot the way his fingers twist together. “Why do you ask?”
“I just… there’s this girl. She’s one of my friend’s twins.”
Oh my god. He has a crush. This is too cute. Oh wow. Has he told Simon?
I do my best to hold back my grin and the giddy tease I want to give him, and I simply nod.
“Okay, what does this have to do with me and your dad?”
“Well, you two are always doing this long stare thing when you talk. I do that with her. Does that mean she likes me too?”
Long stare thing. What is he talking about?
“I’m not sure I know what you mean, but the only sure way to know is to ask her.”
He nods.
“I’m not so sure Kev would like that. I guess I could ask him.”
At ten, there are so many things happening. Girls are one of them, and although I could give him the traditional “there are better things to focus on” talk, I don’t. I’m not his mom or his dad. I’m his friend.
“Do you want to tell me about her?”
He blushes. He actually bushes, and oh my god, I want to gush so freaking bad. I can’t wait to talk to Simon about this.
“Have you told your dad?”
“No way. He’d tell me to focus on football or school or something.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
“I want my dad to like you,” he says softly. “He’s different when you’re around. He’s always a good dad, but when you’re here, it’s like… he’s more… fun. Happy.”
“Oh, I’m sure?—”
Simon’s truck pulls into the driveway.
“See, right there,” Grey beams. “Look at his face. He can’t stop looking at you, and he’s probably not even in park yet.”
Simon is staring right at us. My heart races a little at the thought of seeing him tonight.
Every night since that first one, he walks me to the door when I leave, and he tells me goodbye while hanging on it and grinning at me. I never thought a pose would be such a turn-on. And every night when he does sit, I try not to watch as he flips his cap backward before reaching for the trim, his bicep a beacon for my eyes. And every night, I go home wishing I’d met him at a different time in life. It would make this so-called crush that Grey just called me out for a whole less painful.
“I think he’s looking atus,not just me.”
“No, he’s not.”
I ruffle his hair, and he swats my arms away the same way he does to his dad.
“Go wash up for dinner,” I say. He jumps up, taking his journal but stopping at the door.
