“You can grade all my techniques,” Greg murmured.
Dale’s cheeks turned a light shade of rose. He lowered his gaze, his lips pulling up in a little smile, and Greg’s heart missed a beat. Dale strode away without an answer, his lab coat fluttering.
So that kiss hadn’t been an abnormality. Dale liked him. And June wasn’t going to fight him over Dale.
Greg breathed a sigh. He rinsed out the glass vial, placing it back on the magnetic stirrer. Another two months of school, and the semester would be over.
For now, he just needed to get through the day, then meet Dale after school for dinner.
With news like Dale’s pregnancy, it was easier said than done.
9
Greg
Hours later, Greg pulled into the parking lot of a Mexican restaurant. The sky was growing a deep velvety blue, and against the backdrop of shadowy trees, orange light poured out of the windows of El Asado, its doorways strung with tiny red-and-yellow lanterns.
Greg parked, checking his phone. Earlier in the day, he’d texted Dale: Where do you want to meet?
El Asado, Dale had texted back. On Walnut and Rose. 7pm. They have pulled pork to die for.
Greg had looked up the place—it was a higher-end restaurant on the other side of town, with no malls or libraries nearby. College students wouldn’t be as likely to show up there.
He’d driven back to his apartment after basketball practice, showering to rid all his sweat and grime. Then he’d dressed in a button-down shirt and jeans, so he’d at least fit into the establishment.
I’m here, Dale’s newest text said. Far corner, in a booth.
Greg’s stomach flipped. He hadn’t seen Dale outside the campus before—although it was nowhere the size of Highton, Meadowfall was a relatively large town with a few malls, a couple of libraries, and its own college. Time and again, he’d hoped to catch Dale around town, but their schedules somehow never meshed.
Until now. They were on a sort-of date, except it was to discuss the baby.
Greg still wasn’t sure what to think of that.
Phone in hand, he locked the car and headed over to the restaurant. The tiny bells on the door jangled as it swung shut behind him. Greg picked Dale out easily, tucked away in a corner booth.
If he hadn’t been looking, he’d probably miss his professor entirely. The restaurant was decked out in colorful retro-themed decorations—music posters on the walls, horse figurines on the booth dividers, and wide-brimmed hats hanging from the ceiling. The frosted glass dividers provided privacy—perfect for people who didn’t want to be noticed.
Greg wove between tables and chairs, sliding into the booth just as Dale looked up from his menu.
Forest-green eyes anchored on Greg’s face. Then they coasted down his chest, his abs, his hips, like Dale was slowly stripping him in his mind.
Greg let him look. He settled right across from Dale, raising his eyebrows. “I pass the inspection?”
Dale flushed, meeting his eyes again. “Uh, hello. I wasn’t...”
“Wasn’t...?
“Wasn’t expecting you to dress up.”
A shirt with nice buttons and trimmings didn’t count as dressing up, but maybe that was Dale’s thing. “Should I be dressing up for class, too?”
Dale’s mouth fell open in horror. “Gods, no.”
“Why?”
“It would be distracting.” Dale smiled wryly, dropping his gaze back to the menu. He hadn’t changed out of his work clothes—his long-sleeved shirt clung to his chest, and his pants were still the same dark ones he’d worn that morning. But in the restaurant, under the soft golden lights, Dale looked less like a teacher, and more like an ordinary person. Greg’s pulse skipped anyway.
“So if I were to wear my jersey to class, that’d be fine?”
Dale blinked, eyes darting down to Greg’s chest again. Greg imagined him standing behind the teacher’s desk, his gaze glued to all of Greg’s exposed skin.
“Preferably before you get sweaty,” Dale said. “I don’t need the classroom smelling like you.”
His eyes glimmered with humor, and Greg relaxed. “Had a good day?”
“Ha!” Dale chuckled, his laughter frayed at the edges, suppressed and a little hysterical. For a long while, he didn’t stop laughing. “A good day? I don’t even...”
He rubbed the tears from his eyes, the tension in his shoulders easing. Greg watched, and when Dale finally stopped, he sagged into his seat, a tiny smile on his face. “I guess it’s not the end of the world,” Dale said.
Greg wanted to hug him. With this pregnancy, Dale was the one who bore the heaviest burden—his job, his body, his strength. And Greg didn’t know what he could do about it, except promise his support, being there for Dale whenever he could.
The waitress came by to take their orders. Dale smiled politely at her. “Sweet raspberry tea,” he said.
“Sprite,” Greg said. When the waitress left, he asked, “Come here often?”
“Sometimes. When I’m not in the mood to cook.” Dale leaned into his seat, flipping through the menu. “Want a recommendation?”
“Sure.”
“The pulled pork is delicious,” Dale said, turning his menu around to point it out. “It’s slow-cooked and savory—I think they season it with oregano, garlic and onion—it falls apart in your mouth. They serve it with rice and sweet corn, and the soup is mainly beans, cilantro and chicken. I have it every time I come here.”
As he spoke, the weary lines from his face fell away. He smiled, waving his hands like when he got excited talking about nanoparticles, and Greg watched, unable to stop smiling. After all that news today, Dale deserved to be happy.
“You like the sound of the pulled pork?” Dale asked.
“I like the sound of you,” Greg blurted.
For a moment, Dale stared. Then a scarlet blush crept up his cheeks, and he looked down at the menu. “I... I’m not sure how to respond.”
“You don’t have to. I was just telling you how I feel.”
“Oh.”
Greg didn’t know how to react, Dale being all shy, clamming up even though he was secretly pleased. And Dale was pleased—he couldn’t hide the little twitch of his lips,
