I know I should say no - that I'm already burdening him enough this evening with having me over for dinner, teaching me calculus, and now having to rescue me from my own stupidity. "If you don't mind," I say instead, surprising even myself with the potency of my accent.
"I don't mind, Rory. Of course not," he assures me, and goes on to apologize about freezing earlier, explaining that he was just surprised to see me here.
I tell him not to worry about it and that I was kind of stunned, too. I say Bits seems nice, because she does, and we chat about nothing and everything while he drives and I try not to freak out. He talks more about Miami, and promises it'd be no imposition to get me my own room. He even quizzes me on math.
When Sam arrives, he orders me to wait until he gets to the door to unlock the bolt. I only hang up when he's right outside the door, and as soon as I'm out of the vestibule, without even thinking about it, I step right into his arms. They wrap around me like I belong in them, and now, finally, I relax.
"Thanks," I breathe as I step out of our hug.
"No problem, Ror. Come on, I forgot an umbrella when I rushed out." He grabs my hand to lead me in a hurried jog to his Escalade.
When we're safely inside the car I turn to face him, only vaguely registering that I'm alone, in a car, with a guy, and I'm not afraid. This is a trigger for me. A big one. And yet... nothing.
"I'm real sorry about this," I murmur.Damn, I sound so southern, sodamsel in distress, and it's the last thing I want to be in front of him.
"No big deal. It happens. But I don't have jumper cables in my car and it's really coming down out there. Are you cool to leave your car here overnight?"
"I guess, but what about school-"
"I'll drive you."
****
We pull up to his red brick colonial just after seven. It's a beautiful house. Big, but not obnoxiously so. A traditional French style crystal chandelier hangs in the enormous window overlooking the mahogany front door. I'm feeling disheveled, and I'm sure I look it, too. My clothes and hair are damp from the rain, and it's less than ideal for meeting Sam's family. Sam keeps driving around to the side of the house, and pulls into the garage, on account of the rain no doubt.
I get out and look around. It's been professionally designed and organized, that's for certain. Black and white rubber tiles blanket the concrete, making the garage feel like a room in the house. The back and side walls are all done in custom cabinetry, and there's a huge Subzero party fridge as well.
Sam takes my hand and leads me up the three steps to what I assume is the back hall. It leads around a corner, past a bedroom and a guest bathroom, right into the kitchen, which is filled with a mouth-watering combination of savory aromas, but is otherwise empty.
"Mom! Bits!" Sam calls out. "We're here!"
Footsteps pad from above and down the back staircase beside the kitchen, and Sam's sister appears.
"Hi guys. Mom's just on the phone with Aunt Cathy. She'll be right down," Bits says. "Nice to see you again. Just so you know, Sam and Mom are pretty much the only people who call meBits. My actual name isBeth," she says with a amiable smile.
"Well it's nice to meet you Bits, Beth, whichever you prefer," I reply.
She shrugs. "Honestly, it doesn't make the slightest difference to me. Totally up to you."
"I like Bits," I admit.
"Me too," she replies and smiles conspiratorially. "I'll get the food on the table. Maybe Sammy can give you a tour."
I laugh. "Sure,Sammy,that would be great," I tease with an innocent smile, batting my eyelashes at him.
Sam rolls his eyes and hooks his arm around my shoulder to lead me out of the kitchen and down another hall. "She likes you," he murmurs. "She's not usually so open with new people."
"I like her, too."
Sam shows me the main foyer, which leads on one side to a formal dining room and a family room on the other. Straight back is a grand "great room", which my house - old or new - certainly doesn't have. It's all decorated in transitional furniture and decor - somewhat traditional with contemporary accents. Either it was professionally decorated or Sam's mom has a real knack for interior design.
When we return to the kitchen, Bits is still busy getting the food together. "Almost ready, go show her upstairs, it'll be ready when you're done," she calls back to us without looking.
Sam peeks down at me inquisitively.
"Calculus," I murmur. The truth is, I think I would be okay walking around upstairs alone with him - I really do. But I'm not sure - Ican'tbe sure. Perhaps I'llneverbe sure. And I can't risk having a panic attack tonight. Not here. And for that reason, I use our safe word.
"Oh, you'll have plenty of time to study after dinner," Bits mutters flippantly and Sam and I exchange secretive grins. I chose a good safe word.
