Free Me & Timothy Cooper by Suzanne D. Williams Page A

have mine.”
    My phone buzzed in my purse, and I bent to remove it. But I immediately faced a hug e problem. My shirt.
    See, each day my primary consideration was what to wear for the big moment Timothy Cooper finally spoke to me. O kay, that wa s silly, but to me it was important. Yet this particular day, s tanding in my bedroom, looking at the mound of laundry I’d forgotten to do, I decided to wear the last thing in my closet I’d ever want him to see me in.
    The shirt from Grandma.
    I loved Grandma, but she had no idea what size I wore or what style was in. And t hat, I think, is par for the course in being a grandma. Therefore, this shirt was (a) too big and (b) inclined to gap open.
    I hesitated, my phone buzzing incessantly inches away, and considered my options. I could be quick. Maybe with my hair fallen over me, he wouldn’t no tice. Or I cou ld hold the shirt to my chest with one hand, but that would make me look eit her inept or vain.
    “You going to get that?” he asked.
    I glan ced up to see him grinning from ear to ear . Apparently, something about this situation was funny. I only hoped it wasn’t my shirt.
    “ How about you look away?” I said.
    At this , h is grin spread wider, and for some reason, that made me kind of mad.
    “What if I don’t?” he asked.
    I sat up straighter. My phone had stopped buzzing. “Well, that’ s your choice , b ut I don’t think we know each other well enough for you to see all there is of me.”
    He gave a snort and reclined in his desk , his arm thrown over the seat back . “What if I don’t want to see all there is to see of you?”
    And I don’t know what came over me. This was, after all, Timothy Cooper, my dream guy, but sure as the world, I said the first thing that came to my head .
    “Oh please,” I rolled my eyes, “You’ re male .”
    He burst out laughing.
    Fortunately, this was the diversion I needed, so retrieving my purse from its spot in the floor, I wielded my phone before him as evidence of my success , more than a little relieved. The bell rang then, and we snatched our books and rushed out into the hall. But he pulled me to a stop before I could escape, and I swear my arm burned right where his fingers were.
    “You never said when.”
    When. When would we spend tim e together trading life stories? When would I have the pleasure of looking into his blue eyes for a few hours of my tim e?
    “Well, when then?” I asked.
    He hooked his thumbs in his pockets, his book tucked beneath his arm. “You wanna go out?”
    Out? On a date? I blinked back my surprise and swallowed heavily. “Whatever’s good for you. ”
    “ How about Wednesday? I can pick you up for church. Then after , we can get a burger. ” He waited, his blue eyes growing even bluer the longer I stared at them.
    “Wednesday’s good,” I said.
    “Text me your address.”
    I nodded and made to turn, but his last words pulled me short.
    “Maybe don’t wear that shirt.”
     
    ***
     
    “Tim!”
    Tim glanced over the heads milling in the hallway to see his best friend , Eric, pushing his way forward and so missed t he girl, Taylor , slipping away. H e spent a few moments watching her bottom sway before meeting his friend’s gaze.
    “What’s up?” he asked.
    Eric jerked his head in t he direction of Timothy’s former attention . “What are you talking to her for?” he asked.
    “ P roject.”
    “Class or personal?”
    Tim smiled out of one side of his mouth. That was up for serious debate. “Class.” For now.
    “ MmmMmm ,” Eric grunted as the last vision of her turned the corner. “I’m betting five bucks you make it personal.”
    Tim laughed and headed for the exit . Eric never had five cents, much less five bucks.
    “Hey, man, can you give me a ride home? My mom took my keys … again.” Eric spun in a circle to avoid colliding with the water fountain.
    Tim raised his eyebrows. “What for this time?” Eric was forever getting in trouble, and his mom a