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I feel the same way.
Logan slaps me on my shoulder. “At least you did it.”
I did it, and now I have to figure out how to apologize for it.
The Blue Sox hit the runner on second base to home, and the game in front of us is over.
“Well, boys, let’s go play some baseball.”
I’ll figure out my apology later.
CHAPTER20
MEG
The repetitive hum and buzz of the copy machine lulls me into a Monday morning trance. The papers shoot out the side, falling onto the stack one after another. I watch them, wishing men were as dependable as copy machines.
“Where’s your class?” Jen asks as she walks into the teachers’ lounge.
Her words knock me out of my copy machine coma. “They’re doingart with Mrs. Butler. What about yours?”
“They’re in the gym for PE.” She goes to the cutting board and slices a few papers in half. “So, how was your blind date Saturday night?”
I scratch my forehead, trying to find the right words.
“That bad, huh?”
“Remind me to never let Charlene set me up again.”
“Why? What was wrong with him?”
I sigh, thinking back over the night. “He was nice.”
“That’s code for ugly.”
“No! I didn’t say that.”
“But were you attracted to him? Did you feel butterflies in your stomach when he touched you?”
I felt butterflies—so many fluttering butterflies I’m surprised I didn’t slowly take flight like the cute little house in the movieUp. The problem is, those butterflies came from the wrong guy. But I’m not about to tell Jen that Tyler Dixon crashed my family’s game night and completely turned my world upside down with his mere presence…and his light kiss. I’m already having a hard enough time convincing my sisters there’s nothing going on between Tyler and me. I don’t need to add another person to the list.
The copier purrs to a stop, and I grab the papers, shuffling them so they fit together evenly. “No, I didn’t feel anything when Nigel touched me. In fact, I was bored and completely uninterested in him. He’s a little intense about games and anime.”
Jen gathers up her clippings and throws them in the garbage. “Face it, Meg. Maybe the average nice guy just isn’t for you.”
We walk out of the room together, both making our way back down to the second grade hall.
“No, I’m not giving up that easily. There has to be a man out there who checks all of my boxes.”
Aloud beeping sound outside pulls both of our eyes to the windows that line the school’s hallway. Tyler Dixon is guiding a flatbed truck loaded with an excavator into the playground.
He’s at game night.
He’s on my lips.
He’s at my school.
He’s everywhere.
