Chapter 8

The boy’s father had beautiful lips and brown scruff on his chin and cheeks. Matthew Hildebrand. Twenty-three years old. Adorable. Sweet to look at. Pearl-white teeth. Trip-over gray eyes. Cocoa-colored hair. Tall at six-two. Daddy wore a tight T-shirt the color of mustard. The cotton clung to his firm pecs and wide shoulders. An eye-catching and head-turning man, but so young. Sexy for all the wrong desires that another man could have for him, of course.

I had a knapsack and a pack of cheese and crackers inside. The knapsack leaned against one of the desk’s legs. I retrieved the pack while blabbering about Parker’s “sweet” poems. Then I walked up to the little boy, made eye contact with his daddy, which basically asked if I could give the pack of crackers to his son. Daddy nodded, so I passed the crackers to my newest, coloring student and walked back to the front of the class.