“I’m available,” he says.
He’s perfect. With his tousled brown hair, his deep green eyes. Why can’t he be mine?
“Okay so we’ll meet tomorrow?”
His lips are moving. I’m mesmerized. I shudder back into reality,
“Yeah, sure-i-i’ll be there.” I answer.
He’s available–not to swoop me away as my prince charming, but to be tutored in math by me tomorrow.
I sigh.
It’s a start.
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