Fifteen
Growing Boy
Matt“So when do we get to see Weather Lady again?” Blake asks as we lumber across Pearson Airport, heading toward the exit. “Wanna double date?”
I glance over him. “Weather lady?”
He nods fervently. “Yeah. The hottie from the opera.”
“Still not seeing how you got weather lady from that.”
“Her name’s Hailey. As in, hail. As in, ice chunks that fall from the sky. As in, weather.” Blake beams at me. “So she’s the Weather Lady.”
“Christ, Riley, your nicknames just get worse and worse,” I inform him, shifting my carry-on duffel to my other shoulder. “Matty-Cake at least makes sense in some stupid Blake Riley way.”
We step out into the evening chill and head toward the taxi stand. There’s no line, fortunately, and we get a car in no time, the two of us jamming our hug
