He lets me grab my shower first so I can go get Susa. When I pull in her driveway, she’s already stepping out the front door and locking it behind her. For a moment, I’m distracted by the fact that she’s wearing shorts and sandals. As she starts to walk toward me, I shift it into park and jump out, scurrying around to open the passenger door for her.
That earns me an…odd look.
“What?” I ask.
She smiles—dimple time. “Guys usually don’t open the door for me. I like that. Thank you.”
“My mom drilled it into me.”
I leave off the part explaining that my mom used me as a source of narcissistic supply. Mom loved her friends praising me for how polite I was, even at age ten, and how well-behaved I was.
And that opening doors or holding chairs for her put my attention onher. Mom could have given a shit about me, even though I spent my entire life trying to get her to.
I wait until Susa’s inside to close the door, making a mental note to always get her door for her.
“I hope Carter’s okay,” she says when I’m behind the wheel again.
She’s seen him in shorts and swim trunks, and heard a brief, extremely condensed version of the story he told me. “Yeah, just a pain cycle.” I don’t mention his nightmares because unless he tells her, I won’t betray his confidence.
“I appreciate you doing this for me today. I’m not messing with your classes, am I?”
“No. We finish about the same time.” Like me, Carter has a parking permit. So I drop her off at her first class, then find a parking lot that’s closer to her last class than it is mine. I text her the location where to meet me as I’m walking to class.
Not like you can miss the Snot Box. That’s one of the pluses about it—conspicuous visibility.
I force myself to concentrate during my classes before I nervously make my way to the car after my second one, just in time to see Susa emerge from the building.
I have the car running, the AC already blowing and cooling the interior, and the passenger door standing open for her when she walks up.
The dimple smile.Jesus, it’ll be my undoing.
She bounces up on her toes and brushes a kiss against my cheek. “Thank you, Owen.”
Then she easily slides into the passenger seat.
Holy hell, now I’m hard.
Fortunately, I wore baggy, comfortable shorts today, and I step behind the door to hide behind it until I can shut it for her.
I’ve never been to this IKEA before, but she knows the way and easily directs me. Inside it’s huge, and we take an escalator to the second floor, where she stops.
“Have you had lunch?”
“No, not ye—”
She’s already pulling me along behind her. “I’m an idiot. I didn’t even think to see if you were hungry. Come on—my treat.”
So the lady buys me lunch. She has one of those IKEA Family account cards on her keychain that the cashier scans. Apparently it’s one of Susa’s favorite stores.
I spend the whole lunch watching her, listening to her. Asking her a key question about something in our class to get her talking and then…just listen.
I could do this for the rest of our lives.
With lunch finished, it’s time to get started, me pushing a cart for her. I admit that’s not totally a gentlemanly thing this time. It means I can follow her and watch her from behind in her shorts.
Which is also another good reason for me to push the cart, to hide my perpetual boner.
When we reach the chair section, she sits in a few, then has me sit in a few.
