Page 53 of Best of Me

I swallow my bite and answer. “I’m guessing I have you to thank for this delicious meal?”

“Sure do. And guess what else?”

Nerves zing over my skin. “What?”

“I got the same thing, so I figured we could eat together…over the phone,” he groans. “Fuck. That sounded way cooler in my head.”

My lips part as a smile overtakes my face. “I…I think it’s sweet.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Duke, just like everything else you’ve been doing this week.”

“Sweet enough to earn me a real date?”

I’m so tempted to say yes; it’s on the tip of my tongue. I’d say he’s shown he cares. I’m going to do it. “Yes.”

Duke lets out a gleeful holler and then clears his throat, trying to play it off. “Cool, cool. How about Friday night?”

“Sure, Duke. Friday sounds good.”

“I’ll pick you up at six?”

“Yeah, that works for me.”

“Good. I miss you, Cricket baby. A lot.” His voice clogs with emotion.

“I miss you, too,” I whisper before ending the call.

Wednesday and Thursday pass in a flurry of sweet texts and anticipation. We also talk on the phone each night until I fall asleep to the sound of his voice. To an outsider, all of this probably sounds insanely immature. But to a girl who never had anything like this in high school—or college, because my ex sucked—it’s perfect, a dream come true.

I take extra care getting ready Friday morning because knowing my luck, I’ll somehow not have time to freshen up after school and I want to look my best after not seeing Duke for almost an entire week.

It was really jarring to go from seeing him almost daily to not at all. Clearly, I’m not a cold-turkey kind of girl and I really,reallywant tonight to go well.

Without knowing where he’s taking me, I opt for olive colored jeans, a loose-fitting white top, and a floral-patterned kimono. I keep my hair simple, styled into a messy braided bun and my makeup natural; the last thing I need is fifteen small children pestering me about why I look so fancy.

The first half of the day passes like molasses, especially with no wake-up text or anything from Duke. But I brush it off, not wanting to look needy. However, when lunchtime nears and I still haven’t heard from him, I discreetly shoot him a text; it goes unanswered.

At ten-forty-five, we line up and head to the cafeteria. As we approach the doors, the sight of Duke decked out in his uniform stops me in my tracks. “Hey there,” he greets with a wink.

“Uh. Um…hi,” I reply lamely. But, in my defense, what on earth is he doing here?

“You hungry?” he asks and I nod. “What about y’all? Are you guys hungry?”

“YES!” my children all shout, blatantly ignoring the no-talking-while-in-line rule. I can’t really blame them though.

“Do y’all like pizza?” Again, he’s met with happy yells. “Okay, good, and cupcakes…do y’all like cupcakes?”

My kids are no longer human, howling like hyenas with excitement. And while I’m every bit as over the moon as they are, other teachers are giving me the look—the one that saysthank God my class doesn’t act like that.

“Class. Clap once if you can hear me.” No one claps. “Class! Clap three times if you can hear me.” Duke grins and claps right along with them. “Great. Please proceed single file to our table.”

I count off the kids as they walk past me and Duke falls in beside me as I bring up the end of the line. “You know, you’re kind of hot when you get all authoritative,” he says out of the side of his mouth.

“Oh, yeah? You’re into being talked to like a child?”

He stops me with a hand to my wrist. “Baby, I’m into you talking to me period, however I can get it.”

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