Instead of throwing a jab back, David said, “Put your shoes on. I’m ready to go. I’ll take you back to campus.”
He nudged over the boots he’d been guarding for me. My shoulders sagged when I thought about slipping back into the damp leather. He noticed my reluctance but figured it was for the wrong reason.
“You prefer ordering a rideshare?” he asked. “Because I don’t care either way. I just thought I’d offer.”
“No, no rideshare,” I said quickly. “You’re the lesser of two evils.”
“Lucky me,” he said in a dry tone. “So, let’s get a move on.”
When I didn’t move, he added, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I reached for my uncomfortable boots. “I just hate wet socks in wet shoes.”
Before I could pick them up, David beat me to the punch. My brows furrowed as he grabbed a handful of napkins and stuffed them into the boot. He pulled out the napkins after a few seconds and then stuffed them in the other shoe. David repeated the process three more times before unlacing the boots and laying them before me.
He said nothing as he pushed away from the bar and started toward the exit. I hurried, not even having time to tie the laces as I tried to catch up properly. When he noticed I was lagging, he slowed down, and once we reached the doors, he motioned for me to sit on a stool.
“What are you…?” I asked, trailing off when he kneeled to tie my shoes. He pulled the laces tight, knotting them firm enough so they wouldn’t come undone easily.
Was he being… considerate? I hesitated to call it anything positive because David always thought three steps ahead. He’d helped me with my shoes for a reason. And that reason might be something I didn’t figure out until a few weeks from now.
No, I decided. What he did hadn’t been considerate. It’d been the groundwork for a long game. And I’d be ready for whatever he had in store.
The rain drizzled when we stepped out of the bar. The wind had picked up a bit. A chill seeped through my shirt, raising goosebumps on my skin. I hugged myself while shifting my weight from one foot to the other. David paused on the sidewalk, looking toward the parking lot.
“What’s the hold-up?” I asked after a beat. “Go get your car.”
He looked at me, confusion making his brow knit. “You’re not coming?”
“I’m soaked from head to toe in wet shoes,” I said. “The least you could do is be a gentleman and bring the car up.”
David blinked, his confusion evolving into amusement. “You want me to be a gentleman?”
“It’s all I dream of,” I said deadpan. “Is that a foreign concept for you? Perhaps a new vocab word? I know how much you football players love skipping classes. I tutor for a small fee, you know?”
He laughed, his eyes wrinkled around the corners as he offered me a rare, genuine smile. I stopped shivering at the sight of it. He looked sweet, like someone I could curl up next to and receive soothing back rubs while they told me how much I meant to them.
“You’re so irritating,” David said, interrupting my fantasy as soon as I constructed it. He pulled out his car keys.
“Took the words right out of my mouth,” I said, and gestured him toward the parking lot like I was dismissing him from class. I watched him jog off into the darkness. As soon as I lost sight of him in the rows of cars, the rain pickedup. The drops sounded louder on the concrete, almost like hail.
I waited on the sidewalk for what felt like ages. A few times, some people came out of the bar only to see the downpour and hurried back inside. When David’s car didn’t pull up for a while, I considered that he might have left me.
He’s notthatrude, I told myself. But honestly, who was I kidding? David had disappeared on even his closest friends in their time of need. With that thought, I pulled out my phone.
Just as I was about to order a ride, David pulled up in front of me. I blew out a breath, thankful I wouldn’t have to pay for two rides tonight. Since my parents changed my weekly allowance to a monthly one, my cash flow has been on the lighter side.
“Took you long enough,” I grumbled as I slid into the passenger’s seat. A thick towel was draped across the seat, and the heat was on full blast.
David’s only response was a grunt. He waited for me to settle in before pulling away from the curb. I checked my email as he headed to the highway. He didn’t turn on the radio, so the silence between us felt like rising water.
Naturally, his car smelled of him. All spicy and cool with a hint of mint. He kept his dashboard spotless. The black would sparkle if the soft material reflected any light. He’d hung two of those tree-shaped car fresheners on the rearview mirror. His scent of choice was Summer Linen.
Other than the fresheners, there were no personal touches in David’s ride. No leftover receipts in the cup holders or discarded sweatshirts in the backseat. I was acutely aware of all the space. Absence told just as much of a story as clutter did. But one had to look much more closely to figure out the details of the story. I didn’t have the patience to look closer. I needed some other clues.
My gaze turned to his radio. I wondered if he had pre-tuned stations. Surely his taste in music would tell me more about him than his cleaning habits could.
“Don’t touch it,” he said in a firm voice when I reached for the volume knob.
