“I’ll see you at lunch, scuttlebutt,” she called as she hurried out of the locker room and off to her next class. I waved my hand at her, my eyes still on my shoes. I feared if I met her gaze, she’d see the unmistakable red shading in my cheeks.
* * * *
“Have you tried turning it off and on again?” I asked sarcastically. The impatient grumble on the other end informed me that my customer did not share my fondness of a certain dorky British comedy revolving around a group of IT workers. “Kidding. What’s the code in the bottom right-hand corner of your unit screen? I’ll take a look on my end.” The work kept my mind off my encounter with Reese that morning and the associated memories. As I finished up with my last client, I powered down the computer and headed upstairs, the faint smell of coffee and syrup indicating my mother and baby brother were awake.