Chapter 3
When I got to my mother’s office Monday evening, she was standing in the reception area talking with a brown-haired man. Her eye caught mine and she waved me over.
“Brian,” she said to the man, “this is my son, Jason. Jason, this is Brian Daly. He’s one of our English instructors.”
Brian and I shook hands and exchanged greetings and I was fairly certain he cruised me in the process. He looked to be in his early to mid-thirties and was very cute. He had beautiful blue eyes that were, unfortunately, obscured behind a pair of expensive-looking black glasses. He was dressed like a typical English teacher: khakis, leather Oxfords, and a button-down shirt, but I could tell he was hiding a hot body beneath it all. Before he left, Brian told my mother he’d talk to her again next week
