Page 110 of Class Clown

“We’re arguing about when to get married.”

“We are?”

“Yeah. You’re in a rush because you’ve seen enough of the world to know what you want, but I’m still young and free-spirited, and not sure I’m ready to be tied down.”

He wiped his lips with his napkin and leaned back in his chair. “We haven’t even talked about marriage. I don’t think you can tell your friends we’re fighting about it.”

I pointed my fork at him. “You just said we’d need double sinks. That’s marriage talk.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Ok. What else do we fight about?”

“If we want to move back to Texas to live by family or not. I don’t, but you’re pushing for it because grandparents are important in a child’s life.”

His mouth opened and then shut. “We’re talking kids too?”

“Yes. You want them, don’t you?”

“You know I want kids. I didn’t realize we’re thinking about uprooting ourselves for them.”

“We are.”

“Well, I didn’t grow up around grandparents, so it doesn’t seem like something I’d push for.”

I nodded. “Okay, I’m pushing to move back to Texas and you’re not.”

“Ruby,” he said on a sigh, leaning forward again. “Why is it so important to you that we’re arguing about something? To the point where you’re making stuff up?”

I put down my fork. “It shouldn’t be this easy. It’s never been this easy.”

“You were never with the right person. Love doesn’t have to be work, and fighting and making up, and walking on egg shells to prove it’s real. Love can also be peaceful, and kind.”

I looked into his earnest eyes, and a rush of laughter filled my stomach and rose to my lips, causing me to have to cover it up before it burst out.

“Maybe we’re arguing about the strange ways my mind works,” I giggled. “I’m sorry. I love what we have, and I get weird, but you’re right. Getting along with you is much better than having to apologize all the time.”

“Well, I mean, this was sort of our first fight, so if you’re interested in making up I’m not going to argue.”

I raised my hand to signal the waiter, even though we weren’t even halfway through eating. Nico laughed, and turned when the waiter arrived at our table.

“Check please,” he said, throwing me into another fit of laughter.

The next week a total hottie pa-tottie walked past the doorway of Meredith’s classroom where I was currently camped out with her, Hailey, Aryn and Wesley, chatting it up before school started for the day. My head buzzed with that thrill that always came from seeing Nico before he saw me. Secretly watching him was sort of like that adrenaline rush you get at the top of a rollercoaster right before it does the first drop.

I had no idea why he’d be there when his work day started at seven, and it was currently eight, but I hustled to the doorway and paused to take in the view. His broad shoulders were stiff, controlled, but his gate was long and graceful. He wasn’t wearing a ball cap today, and his black wavy hair looked freshly styled.

Good yummy morning to me.

I whistled, long and loud, before he could turn the corner at the end of the hall, and called, “Hey soldier, I’ve got what you’re looking for!”

He came to an abrupt stop and spun around, meeting my laughing expression. His eyes closed briefly and he shook his head, but then he began marching my way. He had a bag in one hand and a to-go cup in the other, and I didn’t even care what food he was carrying because he was more delicious than anything else.

I waved excitedly, and called, “You look good enough to eat.” One of the third-grade teachers who’d been walking the opposite direction looked to me and smiled. “Am I wrong?” I asked her, and she laughed.

I’d never been quiet about my flirtation situations, and I wasn’t about to start now, even if Nico looked a little pink across the cheeks. I so rarely got under his skin, and I loved it when I did. When he got close, I could see his lips tugging up in amusement, and I wiggled my eyebrows at him.

“Well, this is a nice surprise,” I said, grabbing a fist full of his shirt and tugging him close for a kiss. “My big Hunk-of-Man.”

His lips were soft and warm, his breath fresh and minty, and I let out a little ‘mmm’. He kissed me back, but kept the contact brief, and I was okay with that. If he could handle me, I could respect him and his fuddy-duddy stance on too much PDA.

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