37
Before I know it, summer is upon us.
You sign a contract to work for the same school next year. There was an opening for a first-grade position, and you jumped on it. I helped you pack up your classroom and am taking you out to dinner tonight to celebrate.
You request that I keep it low key, nothing fancy. After spending the week in work-appropriate attire, you want to live in jeans and a hoodie.
I pick you up at your house and place your bags in the trunk. I took the week off so we could spend some quality time together after a busy month. The problem being seven whole days with you simply isn't enough.
"Did you have fun this afternoon with your colleagues?" I ask when we hit the road.
You squeeze my fingers. "I sure did. We always have brunch to celebrate the end of the year. A lot of people took advantage of the bottomless mimosas."
We share a laugh, and I ask you how many you had.
"Only two. I'm not a fan, and they were only serving bloody mary's as an alternative." You grimace. "No thank you."
"I don't like them either."
"Besides, you told me we were going to La Catrina, and you know how much I love their watermelon margaritas."
"Why do you think I chose to bring you here?" I chuckle as I park.
"I love you." You sigh.
You tell me everyday, multiple times a day, but each new time is my favorite. "I love you, too."
Luckily, the wait isn't too long. I take you to the bar and order the first of many drinks. I plan on letting you get sloppy tonight. You deserve it after a long school year.
Once we're seated, we order queso and mild salsa, and you talk me into taking a shot with you. The tequila burns, but your mouth is the perfect chaser.
Three shots and half the menu later, it's decided that we're going to leave my car at the restaurant and get an Uber back to my house. We'll come pick it up in the morning, or at this rate, whenever we crawl out of bed tomorrow.