He has his book from Intro to Heroism out in front of him, along with his binder and the worksheet with our assignment printed on it.I fold my hands on the table and smile at him. I haven’t said a word since we sat down, which was, oh, almost ten minutes ago. I’ve just been watching him squirm, waiting to see how long it will take before he gives in and makes the first move.Finally, he taps his pen against the paper and says, “We should probably get started. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can leave.”“Wouldn’t want to miss an episode of Train Wrecks.”“Train Models,” he corrects me, like I didn’t already know that. Train Models is a stupid, boring show where some old guy repairs model trains. Really slowly. I’m pretty sure even Sarah thinks it’s boring, though I know she watches it with him anyway.And if he wanted to be home in time to watch it, he shouldn’t have insisted we meet at my house. Like he didn’t want me anywhere near his family or something, though I was already planning on flattering the hell out of his mom and making her wonder why her son was being so hostile to such an obviously nice young man.He clears his throat and reads from the assignment sheet.
