Why did Wednesdays seem like the longest days of the week?

 

I kept thinking about this phenomenon as I was trying to decide if I was hungry or not. During recess, students were in the cafeteria where I usually joined them, together with the rest of the teachers. Today, I wasn’t sure I wanted to eat. I was more preoccupied with the newest book I had bought and hadn’t even moved from my desk.

 

A call interrupted my train of thought. “Hello!” I answered, a wide grin stretching my lips.

 

Hearing Dawson’s voice made me feel energized. Without too much preamble, he asked me if I could come outside.

 

I feared someone from the school might see us so I suggested the parking lot across the street, then darted through the hallways. I checked my watch to make sure I had enough time to enjoy his presence.

 

Hurrying outside, I saw him pacing lazily on the sidewalk. He looked impressive in his riding gear and I smiled like a little girl. I felt like skipping and twirling around but I refrained from doing so as I crossed the street.

 

“Hi…” He didn’t let me finish. He shut me up with a kiss. “What’s the occasion?” I inquired, when I was able to breathe again.

 

He shrugged. “I wanted to see you, that’s all. Is it a bad moment?”

 

“No, not at all. Want to grab a coffee while you see me?”

 

“Why, sure,” he laughed and took my hand. “I saw a food truck close by. Are you hungry?”

 

I thought for a moment. “Now that you ask me, I think I am. Is it the Mexican one?”

 

“Mmhmm. I already had some taco from there. Let me tell you, it was the best I ever had!”

 

I approved wholeheartedly. These guys were geniuses when it came to food.

 

Discussing the science behind Mexican flavors, we walked hand in hand towards the food truck. I noticed that my hunger had become more noticeable so I got the lunch special, which was a hefty meal with dessert, and a coffee.

 

“Are you sure you can finish that?” Dawson asked.

 

“You have no idea.”

 

We sat at one of the wooden tables that the guys from the food truck placed around their car. I dove into my food with greater interest than I expected while Dawson was watching me curiously, waiting for his coffee to get to a drinkable temperature.

 

“Wow,” he whispered after a while. I looked up. “That’s some healthy eating, right there!”

 

“Mmhmm,” I mumbled, mouth full of delicious food. “Oh, sorry. Do you want a bite, perhaps?” I was in very good spirits and felt like joking around. My offer came on a more mocking tone than it should have been and Dawson raised his hands.

 

“No, thank you. I’m sorry I doubted you before. Now, I’m wondering if that’s enough,” he said, pointing at the half-eaten meal before me.

 

I reached for my coffee and washed the last bite down. Searching for his eyes, I looked for the reason why he decided to see me.

 

“What?” he asked.

 

“Nothing,” I shrugged. “Just wondering why you came.”

 

He rolled his eyes. “I told you. Can’t a man want to see one particular woman sometime?”

 

I felt blood rushing to my cheeks as I imagined every possible interpretation of those words. He had a way of getting me hot and bothered with the simplest of things: a glance, a crooked smile, seemingly innocuous words.

 

“I hope it wasn’t a bad time,” he followed and I shook my head. “Good. Talking about seeing you, how would you feel if I changed our agreement? For the weekend, not completely.”

 

Just a hint of panic stirred my thoughts around. Was he suggesting we drop our understanding? I tried to play it cool. “Are you planning a trip with Ginger?”

 

“No. More like, mixing duty and pleasure.”

 

I regarded him quizzically.

 

He went on, “I was thinking that, maybe, you’d like to babysit Ginger at my place this weekend. I think she’d like it more. Don’t you think?”

 

I squinted. “Yes…It does seem better for her,” I agreed, still suspicious of his motives.

 

“God, you look in doubt,” he laughed.

 

That’s because I am, I said to myself, then aloud, “Maybe. What’s the pleasure part of it?”

 

“Ah!” He leaned on the table, closing in on me. “How about we mix my part of the bargain with yours? I usually come home Sunday night anyway, but I can’t take Ginger back that late. Now, imagine if you were sleeping at my place.”

 

I was beginning to see where he was getting at and, frankly, I liked the idea. “Okay,” I said. I didn’t want to give him the chance to change his mind. What was there to discuss anyway?

 

He, apparently, had something further to say. “Well, that was easy. How about you come around eight, Friday evening?”

 

“And lose a whole afternoon with Ginger?”

 

He shifted in his seat. “Yeah, sorry about that. But earlier than eight I can’t do it.”

 

“What? Opening the door for me? It’s not like we haven't done this before. At my place, but still.”

 

“Yeah, but I can’t do it. Will you be okay with that?”

 

I looked at my food. What was with him? I couldn’t really get why he needed the change just to make me have Ginger later. Now, I did like the idea of seeing a bit more of him, but his request was bugging me. “Why?” I asked, picking at my food.

 

“What?” He was avoiding my question and I didn't like it.

 

But how could I push it? It wasn't like I had any real basis for demanding full disclosure. I felt how the cheerfulness of the day was sipping through the cracks, leaving me with a hint of a bitter taste in my mouth.

 

“Come on, Mari. Please don't be like this. It’s to do with my job, nothing personal. That’s why I can make this change this weekend. If I didn't want to see more of you I wouldn’t have suggested you sleep Sunday night at my place. I want to find you there when I come home.”

 

“You do?” I whispered, my butterflies already dancing in circles.

 

“Yes!” He sounded as sure as a man can be and all it was forgotten on my part. I grinned at him and he finally smiled back. He stood, stretching his impressing frame and reached a hand for mine. “I believe all is settled, then, Miss Bennett?”

 

I took his hand. “Indeed, Mr. Holt.”

 

Since my appetite was gone, I left almost half of my lunch untouched. He grabbed it and stuffed it in his mouth in just a couple of bites. “I told you I love the food here,” he explained himself under my inquiring gaze. I laughed seeing his serious expression. He did really love the food.

 

We walked back to school slowly, his arm around my shoulders, like we were promenading. I kissed him goodbye and watched as he went to his motorcycle, mounted it and rode away in the sound of the sexiest engine roar.

 

“God, he’s sizzling,” I sighed and turned to get back to work.