Page 71 of Fostering Chemistry
To be someone's godfather, that meant something. I'd had very limited contact with my birth father, and nothing in the last fifteen years. As for my mother, she took off practically after giving birth. She'd been on my mind a lot lately.
Then again, so had Mia. And the latter was much more fun to spend time thinking about.
I closed my laptop and rubbed my hands over my eyes. These research papers gave me a headache. Mia didn't.
I'd gone into the scavenger hunt thinking I was doing Aaron a favor. I hadn't expected to have fun. And I hadn't expected to see her have fun, especially when partnered with me, but she had.
God, the way she looked after she lost that ridiculous tutu. I couldn’t get the image of those skintight pants, and that little top out of my mind. I should go thank that tutu-eating tree. The way she ran, the way she moved, it was so graceful, not like an actual ballerina, but like a fit young woman who was comfortable with her body.
And her smile… I hadn’t actually seen it before, at least not directed at me. But it had been pretty constant by the end of the scavenger hunt.
These were thoughts I’d tried to resist—and failed. Especially after holding her in my arms during the dance lesson. If Aaronhadn't been there waiting, I would have danced with her all night.
After weeks, it seemed like she was finally starting to trust me. To maybe even enjoy spending time with me. She’d been so attentive when she was in my arms. The way she was so alert for whichever way I leaned, whichever way I stepped. It was a pleasure to lead when your partner was that responsive.
Shit. Maybe analyzing statistics was better than entertaining these thoughts. Except… I wasn’t as resistant to them as I had been before. Yes, Mia was younger than me, but only by three years.
She was twenty, and like most former foster children, had had to grow up far too soon. She wasn't a kid who didn't know her own mind. Mia was a woman, and I couldn't stop thinking about her.
And god help me, I didn’t want to.
I’d considered asking her out, but something stopped me. I was the residential advisor, and I cared about everyone who lived here. This was a place where Mia should feel welcome and safe. But… it honestly had felt like she’d enjoyed my company during the scavenger hunt, or at least by the second half of it. And dancing with her in my arms… that wasn’t something I could just forget.
So maybe I'd see what she was doing tomorrow night. Maybe she could come with me to Paul's house. It would probably take two of us to wrangle a high-spirited toddler into his crib. After that, we could study. And I could see if her newfound comfort level with me would continue.
Somehow, going on the scavenger hunt together had changed things. She certainly hadn't seemed all that nervous when I held her in my arms and waltzed her around the room.
If the babysitting went well, then maybe I'd ask her out on a real date. We still had that gift certificate to the Italian place. That would be the perfect excuse.
Forzano’s was a nice place. I’d only been there once. I cast my mind back, trying to recall what I’d ordered, but a different memory threatened to break through. It had happened a couple of times recently. I didn’t know what it was from, but it was always the same. A feeling of happiness. Of surrendering all responsibilities and only doing what I wanted to do. It was always accompanied by a sweet scent. Something that I was certain I’d recently encountered.
It made no sense. My brain was probably fried from all of the statistical analysis.
Someone knocked on my door. “Come in.”
My jaw nearly dropped when the door opened, and Cody stepped into my room. Had he ever been in here? I was pretty sure he hadn’t in the fourteen months we’d shared this house.
“What's up?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
“Can we… talk?”
Normally, getting Cody to talk was an exercise in frustration. I couldn’t quite imagine what had made him seek out a conversation with me. “Sure. You want to go out in the dining room?”
“No.”
He closed the door behind him.
“Is everything okay? Are you sick?”
He shook his head. “No, not sick. And everything's not okay.”
“What's up?”
I pulled out the desk chair for him and then I sat on the edge of my bed. He sat down and slouched, his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. But even though he was leaning back in the chair, he looked tense.
“Take your time, man. You can tell me anything.”
“I messed up,” he finally said.
