an: My dad called me and my siblings “squirrels” when we were spazzy. Have more of this fluffy au ❤ ❤
Ben was silent until Sam was settled in the backseat of his black sedan, backpack sitting on the middle seat.
He wasn’t one to beat around the bush. “Are you hitting on your teacher for me?”
The boy looked aghast when Ben glanced at him through the rearview mirror, pulling out of the school parking lot.
“I wouldn’t ever hit Miss Rey,” he answered.
Ben scowled, his tone stern. “Sam.”
His son squirmed in the back, gaze flitting between him and the view outside his window.
“Okay, maybe a little bit, but–”
Ben sighed. “No excuses, Sam. Miss Rey is your teacher, it would be inappropriate for anything to happen between us.”
Sam moaned. “But Dad, she’s pretty and nice and good at hugging–”
“No, Sam. No buts.”
“You have a butt too.”
Ben couldn’t help cracking a grin when Sam snickered in the backseat. He made a right turn at the light.
As they drove past the park, Sam begged to play on the swings. Ben was feeling indulgent, despite the little mishap with Miss Rey. Perhaps because of it.
For a moment he wondered if he should reach out to Sam’s mother; his son clearly longed for a maternal figure. He knew it was best not to, not when it would end in Sam being disappointed. Perhaps they should go visit his mother during the next holiday weekend instead.
“So?” Sam slid out of the backseat. “What did Miss Rey say? Did she want to go to dinner?”
Ben rolled his eyes dramatically. The boy was practically buzzing with excited energy. “None of your beeswax.”
Sam shot him a sly grin before darting across the grass, dashing for the open swing set, hollering at the top of his lungs, “Dad and Miss Rey, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S–”
“Come back here, you squirrel!” Ben called after him, breaking into a run, laughing the whole way.
So sweet.
Ink Child Writing 