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My eyes narrow.
“What? I’m asking as your friend. We’re friends, right?”
“I don't have another date lined up. I might take a break from that.”
“From banning hot men?”
“No, from dating altogether. I’m probably forcing the issue too much.”
“I agree. I don’t think you should date anyone else.” The look in Tyler’s eyes freaks me out, like there’s a secret meaning behind what he said—a secret meaning that has to do with the words “anyone else.”
“How have you been?” I blurt out, trying to keep myself from analyzing what he said even more than I already am.
“Uh-oh…” He stops midsentence, and his expression twists into confusion. “Is that what I think it is?”
My eyes follow his to the library windows. We have a direct view of a screen with a zoomed-in drawing of the female anatomy, and it dawns on me that today is the Maturation Program for the sixth graders.
“It looks like—”
“Stop!” I say before he can say it out loud. I shield my eyes with my hands like the immature woman that I am. Maybe I should have shielded his?
“Very informative,” he says with a thick dose of amusement.
I shake my covered head. “It’s the Maturation Program. It’s supposed to be informative.”
“That makes a lot more sense,” he says. “Oh, now there's a drawing of a breast.”
“Tyler!” I squeal as I duck down. For some reason the lower position helps ease my mortification. And why are my eyes still shielded? It’s not like I’ve never seen a breast before.
“Hi, Dad!” Krew knocks on the computer lab window right next to us, and it’s then that I remove my hands from my face. I stare at my little second grade class inside the computer lab that shares a wall of windows with the library—with a straight view of the screen with pictures. Half of the class is pointing at the drawings, giggling, while the computer teacher has her back to the slideshow as she’s helping another child.
“Oh, no!” I rush to the door, hearing Tyler’s words behind me.
“Somebody should have thought about the giant windows in the library when choosing a location for the Maturation Program.”
“Okay, class.” I practically run to the opposite side, the one thatdoesn’tface the windows. “Computer time is over.”
“Teacher?” One of the boys raises his hand. “My mom says it’s bad to look at pictures of boobs.”
I catch a glimpse of Tyler in the back, doubled over in laughter. I want to die, or maybe join him laughing.
It’s a toss-up.
* * *
TYLER
I’m lying in bed, trying to finalize purchase orders for the playground project at American Education Academy. Krew’s asleep next to me, and in the background, a college football game plays on the TV. I’ve been staring at the computer screen too long. I lean my head back against the headboard and shut my eyes.
Meg’s face is the first thing I see.
One encounter with her today has me wishing for more time to get to know her, but I shouldn’t want that. She’s theTitanicslowly heading toward an iceberg, and the iceberg is me. If we collide, the damage will be done. Her career will sink along with her hopes and dreams.
My phone rings, and I dive forward, trying to get to it before the sound wakes Krew. I don’t look at who’s calling. There’s no time.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Dixon?” a woman says.
