18. Birdie

Confession: My bird is my therapist.

"It was awful, Ralphie," I said, preparing his food and water the next morning. "You wouldn't believe the dolt my parents tried to set me up with. And the party?" I finished pouring the seed into his dish, then shut the cage door. "An airplane wrote ‘It's a Girl' in the sky. I'm surprised Anthea didn't divorce Doug and our family right then and there."

"Sounds like a pretty bad party," a smooth voice said from the doorway.

I turned to see who was there and backed into Ralphie's cage.

He squawked and flapped his wings in protest, but this was not a time for outrage. It was a time for shock. Pure and utter panic. And maybe a hint of sexual attraction.

"Co-Cohen, what are you doing here?" I stuttered.

He smiled. "I could ask you the same thing."

"I work here," I said, turning to straighten Ralphie's cage and gather myself.

"Who's this guy?" Cohen asked, peering around me.

"This is Ralphie." I smiled affectionally at my bird, then back to Cohen. "He's basically my best friend." And therapist, I didn't say.

Cohen chuckled, bringing his finger close to the cage. "I used to have a pet parakeet."

"What was its name?" I asked.

"General Feathers."

I giggled.

"Hey, I was only seven when I named him."

"That's cute," I said, admiring him interacting with my bird. Ralphie came closer to Cohen, curiously taking him in, then he gently nipped his finger with his beak. He approved. And my heart melted to a puddle.

Cohen smiled. "That's a good boy."

"He usually doesn't like men," I said. Dax might have had something to do with that.

"Well, he's a sweetheart."

"I think so." I folded my arms over my chest. "So, what are you doing here?" I laughed nervously. "You didn't find every school in the area and search for me, did you?"

"No," he chuckled. "Actually, this was a happy coincidence, considering you never gave me your number... or a goodbye."

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I thought I'd spare you the inconvenience of turning me down."

"Why would I do that?" he asked, stepping away from Ralphie.

I rubbed my arm. This really was awkward. "Because I have about all the grace and charisma of a watermelon?"

He shook his head, an amused smile making him look that much more attractive. "You are one of a kind, Birdie. I never would have turned you down."

His husky voice made my insides shiver the way they had that night. Part of me still wished I had taken him up on a one-night stand. Or at least stayed for breakfast. "I still don't understand, though. The Academy doesn't usually do intern placement with bars." I laughed nervously. Something about this man made me giddy and scared and horny all at once.

"No, I'm here to talk about my son."

It was like he'd dumped a bucket of ice water on my head. "Wh-what?"

"Ollie Bardot is my son," he said.

My eyes widened as my head caught up to the words I was hearing. This man. This very sexy man who had spilled a beer on me and seen me in an oversized T-shirt and had his boner pressed into my hip was ONE OF MY STUDENT'S FATHERS?

Holy shit.

This really couldn't get any worse.

Not only was I a chicken and a tease who tiptoed out of his apartment. I was his kid's unprofessional guidance counselor.

I covered my face with my hands. "You're Ollie's father."

"I am," he said calmly. There was a slight frown on his perfect features as he said, "I'm worried about him, and I didn't want him to know I'm meeting with his guidance counselor, so... here I am."

"Sit," I said, gesturing at one of my chairs. I sat behind my desk, getting Ollie's file from where it had been atop my stack. "I actually had it on my list to call his parents today." If only I'd looked at the file before being surprised like this, maybe I could have worn something other than my long-sleeved top and plain dress pants. Maybe even worn my hair down instead of this slicked-back bun.

But I couldn't focus on how I looked, not now when we had a student to take care of. Ollie was much more important than me or my crush on his father. "What has he told you?"

"Nothing," Cohen said. "That's the problem. Usually he talks to me after school, but the last couple of weeks, he hasn't been speaking at all when he comes home."

"And has he said anything to your wife?" I asked, terrified of the answer—that he would have cheated on his spouse with me.

"His mother hasn't been speaking to me lately, especially since we don't have to meet to get Ollie to our places."

"That must be so hard." My heart hurt for Cohen, even though a tiny spark of happiness lit at his answer. I'd seen how hard it was for divorced couples to co-parent high school students. Judging by his answer, Cohen and Ollie's mom were clearly separated and I hadn't almost committed adultery.

Cohen nodded sadly. "Ollie's adjusted so well since he came out his freshman year, and the divorce two years back, and he seems to like his new stepdad, but this silent treatment is so not him."

I kept my face even, taking in the new information about Ollie's orientation. As far as I knew, he wasn't out at school, but kids were mean. If someone had found out, or even guessed, maybe that was a contributing factor.

I flipped open the file and took out emails I'd gotten from a couple of his teachers and printed out. "Mr. Davis, his videography teacher, says he's been very withdrawn in class the last two weeks. And Mr. Aris, the math teacher, says Ollie's missing five assignments. He's worried if Ollie doesn't start submitting his work soon, he'll really hurt his GPA."

Worry covered Cohen's face, etching into every handsome inch, and he rubbed the short stubble along his jaw. "Has he been getting picked on by any of the kids? Have you seen anything different at lunch?"

"I haven't noticed anything," I said, "but that doesn't mean nothing's happening. Maybe even online. How about his relationships outside of the home? Has he stopped speaking to friends? Broken up with a boyfriend?"

He shook his head. "He hasn't told us about a boyfriend, and his friends haven't come over lately, but he usually spends more time with them on the weekends when he's with his mom."

I frowned and looked back down at my files. "None of the notes mention anything happening here at school. Let me call his mom, and hopefully we can figure something out."

"Thank you," he said. "Really, I just didn't know what to do."

"This was a great first step." I reached across the table, putting my hand atop his to comfort him, but just the contact made my stomach swoop. I pulled my hand away and straightened my shoulders. "Thanks for coming in."

He smiled, not moving to stand. "I'm glad I did. And now that I know how to get a hold of you... maybe we can plan that lunch?"

"I-I—" My heart fell. "I can't."

His eyebrows drew together. "Why not? I really thought we hit it off."

"We did." Ugh, I so did not want to say this, but I had to. "It's just that dating parents is strictly against the rules at the Academy."

"You're not serious," he said.

"It's in the bylaws. The concern is that it would lead to unfair treatment of the students."

Cohen shook his head in disbelief. "So the only way we're allowed to get Ollie special treatment is through extra donations?"

My rueful smile came easily. "Seems like it. Money talks."

"But..." He tapped his fingers on my desk, the pattern mesmerizing. "What exactly constitutes dating?" he asked.

I refocused my gaze on his face. "What?"

"Are parents not allowed to meet with teachers outside of school?" he asked with a neutral expression. "For instance, if you were a man, would I be allowed to have dinner with you?"

"Well, there's nothing in the handbook against it."

He lifted his eyebrows. "So it's only kissing that's off limits?"

My cheeks heated. "Amongst other things."

"Then have dinner with me."

"Cohen..."

"You said you didn't want to date. And I don't either. As a concerned parent, I'd like to speak with you more about possible solutions... And as a friend, I'd like to get to know you better."

I fought my growing smile. "I'd like that too. As a friend."

"Friday?" he asked.

"In Brentwood," I said, writing my number on a sticky note and handing it to him.

He took it and winked. "Crossing into the enemy's territory, are we?"

I smiled. "Perhaps."

With a smile of his own, he waved at Ralphie. "Bye, Ralph." Then he turned to me and said, "I'll see you Friday, Ms. Melrose."

"Goodbye, Mr. Bardot."