Sway by Amy Matayo

wing has kept me distracted the entire drive here. My door opens.
    “One hundred percent certifiable.” I look up at him.
    “Do I like dogs? I can’t say that I’ve ever been asked that question before by a girl I’ve just met. Felt like I was being sized up as a serial killer or something.” Or something. Boyfriend eligibility, actually, but I can’t say that. Yet.
    I shrug. “She’s an animal lover. And don’t forget—”
    “Crazy,” we finish together. I look at the small brown building in front of me. “This is the center? It looks different than I thought it would.”
    He looks down at me with a grin and holds out a hand to help me out of the car. “I parked around back. We’ll be less likely to be bombarded by rug rats if we sneak in this way.”
    “Wait—can you do that?”
    He shrugs. “You can if you work here.” He seems slightly embarrassed, but the news both surprises and thrills me. Caleb doesn’t look like the kid-loving type. “Anyway, what did you expect it to look like?”
    “I don’t know. A little less…flat?” He laughs at this, which does all sorts of warm and mushy things to my insides. I tell myself to shake it off—I don’t do warm and mushy—and go to move around him, but he stays still. Looking at me. Blocking my way. The sight is both exhilarating and scary, and there it is again.
    I guess warm and mushy is my new thing.
    A slow grin tilts the side of Caleb’s mouth, the kind of grin that makes you wonder what he’s thinking even though it’s obvious what he’s thinking.
    “What?” I say, hearing the nervous tremble in my voice. Of course I’m nervous. He’s going to kiss me. I know he’s going to kiss me. He’s going to kiss me, and I don’t know what to do. He’s going to kiss me, and every part of me is tingling with anticipation.
    I think about closing my eyes. I think about leaning forward. I think about touching that eagle wing. I think about a lot of things. Until I realize it’s unnecessary.
    “After this, how about we see a movie?” he says, chucking me on the chin. My teeth actually tap together. Then he steps back, leaving me wondering what the heck just happened. Seriously, what just happened? And why didn’t he kiss me? The car door closes and my face turns pink and I follow him into that beige building, and all I can think is that I should have worn that brown sweater so that I could blend in with the bricks.
    *
    “And so when you met Caleb, how old were you?” I have to shout to be heard, because this place is loud , but two hours later, I have three pages of notes, we’ve snapped a few pictures, and this is the most adorable kid I’ve ever had the pleasure of being around. Caleb hasn’t only helped me by introducing me to Ben, he’s practically written my term paper’s entire opening.
    “Ten, I guess.” Ben shrugs his ebony shoulder, bare from a game of pick-up basketball. Sweat glistens from his forehead, matching the same ring that shines from Caleb’s. The two are clearly fond of each other. I saw the elation on Ben’s face as Caleb walked through the front door, elation he quickly covered with a cool, detached expression. You can’t hide the eyes, though. His are still shining. “I’ve known him for a year. Usually we meet here, but sometimes he brings me to his—”
    Caleb chooses that moment to slap the basketball out of Ben’s hands, and just like that the interview is over. The game is back in full swing, and I have a suspicion that Ben is finished answering my boring questions. Necessary for my paper, but mind-numbingly exhausting for him. I was eleven once, too. I know what it’s like to be forced into interviews. I’ve been sitting for them for years now thanks to my parents and their—
    I gasp. Lunge for my purse. Yank out the unopened invitation out and rip into the envelope. Studying the card and my father’s hand-written note at the bottom, I want to die. Death by my own hand would be so much better than