A PERFECT RENDEZVOUS

Please dont go....

The nostalgic smell of finger paints and paste assailed Zayn's nostrils as he walked slowly down the empty hallway to the only classroom with lights on at the end of the corridor. He could hear women's laughter as he neared the doorway, and he paused just inside the classroom, unnoticed for the moment, looking around at the downsized desks occupied by seven women at the front of the room.

Harry was leaning against his desk, surrounded by chalkboards with children's drawings hanging above them and the letters of the alphabet displayed around the room in giant size. He was already dressed for the dinner that would follow the wedding rehearsal tonight, his hair caught up in a soft chignon that made him look startlingly sophisticated. Zayn was admiring the way he looked in his clingy peach summer shirt when Harry looked up and saw him standing there. "You're right on time," he said, straightening from his position and smiling. "We've finished our lesson for the night and we've been reminiscing and having a private little going-away party." As he said that, he tipped his head to the small cake and paper cups on his desk and held out his hand to Zayn. Drawing him forward and linking his fingers through his own, he explained to the women, "Zayn came here tonight because he was very anxious to meet you before we leave tomorrow night." Seven faces studied him with every reaction from outright unease to total awe. "Louisine," Harry began, "I'd like you to meet my fiancé. Zayn, this is Louisine Perkins—"

By the second introduction, Zayn realized that Harry was carefully making it seem as if the honor of the introduction was his, not theirs. He did that simply by telling him something special about each, and Zayn watched their tension dissipate and smiles begin to burst out.

Impressed by his tact, Zayn straightened after shaking the last woman's hand and stood beside Harry at his desk. The moment of awkward silence was broken suddenly by a young woman in her midtwenties with a small baby in a carrier on the desk beside her, who Harry had introduced as Rosalie Silmet. "Would you ... like some cake," she burst out awkwardly but with determination.

"I never turn down cake," Zayn lied with a smile to put her at ease, then he turned to the desk and sliced himself a piece.

"I made it myself," she volunteered hesitantly.

He was turning back with a piece of chocolate cake in his hand when he saw Harry silently mouth one word to her. "How?"

"I—" her thin shoulders straightened. "I read the recipe!" she declared with such pride that Zayn felt a funny clutch in his chest. "And Peggy drove us here," she added, tipping her head to the woman named Peggy Listrom. "Peggy read all the street signs we passed on the way out loud."

"He doesn't care about that!" Peggy Listrom said, blushing furiously. "Anybody can read street signs."

"Not anybody," Zayn heard himself say, because at that moment as he looked at the women with their eager–hopeful expressions, he would have done anything to make certain they left that classroom feeling special. "Harry told me he couldn't read for a long time."

"He told you that?" one of them said, dumbfounded that Harry would have confessed it.

He nodded. "I admired him tremendously for having the courage to change it." Switching his gaze to Peggy Listrom, he added with a grin, "Now when you learn how to read maps, will you let me know the trick of it? I get lost the minute someone unfolds a map."

Someone giggled, and he added, "Who brought the punch?"

A hand went up. "I did."

"Did you read the recipe?"

She shook her head with so much pride that Zayn was mystified until she added, "It's from a can. I read the label. In the grocery store. It cost one dollar and sixty-nine cents. I read that, too."