10
HE BLUSHES A LITTLE and leans back in his chair. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that last bit out loud. Got carried away, I guess.”
I swallow hard and stare down at my plate. I dig into my salad, not quite able to look at him. I was trying to make him uncomfortable, and he certainly turned the tables on me. I chew a bite of my salad, but I don’t taste it.
An awkward silence follows, and we both polish off our meals. He steers us in to polite conversation territory; our family, our travels, and the weather. I opt out of dessert because my stomach is completely tied up in knots. I didn’t expect to feel like this. I’m actually enjoying myself. Matt is really nice, and I’m not sure if it’s just an act. I honestly don’t know what to think.
Matt pays the bill, as promised. As we’re about to make our way out, he offers to help me with my coat, like a true gentleman. I protest at first, but then concede. He walks me to my old Dodge Caravan, and as we near my car, I curse out loud, and immediately slap my hand to my mouth — not very classy.
He laughs. “Damn Vermont,” he says. “Let me help you out.”
“No, it’s okay,” I argue. “I’m perfectly capable of clearing my own car, thank you. I’m no damsel in distress.”
He closes the distance between us. A cloud of hot breath escapes his mouth. “I know that. I just want to help.”
I feel his warmth as he inches even closer. We stand close and get lost in each other for a second. I press on my key fob, and a beep startles him. How dare him try to have a moment with me. Not gonna happen.
He pulls at my car handle and I laugh when it sticks. I don’t want him to be able to open it. I want him to look weak in front of me, and feel emasculated. But no such luck. He gives it a good tug and it flies open with a loud thud. He climbs in.
Hell, no.
He comes out holding my snow brush. It looks like I’m not winning this argument. Hugging my picture frame, I watch him brush the snow off my car. I enjoy the sight of him, huffing and puffing… for me.
When he’s finally done, I smile and thank him.
“No problem,” he says. “My pleasure.”
I’m a little appalled with myself. I played right into his hands, the damsel in distress to his rescuing hero. Whatever. Tomorrow is another day.
I smile at him again when I say goodnight. There is way too much smiling happening here.
He waves bye as he inches farther, and my heart skips a beat.
I absentmindedly climb in my cold car. What the fuck is wrong with me? I start the engine, and it stalls. Yet again. God, if I need another jump, I’m going to cry.
I try again, and again. But no luck.
To my dismay, I spot Matt in the distance, running towards me. Part of me would rather be stuck here all night than let him help me again. Enough of this stupidlet’s pretend we like each othershit. But I alsoreally, reallywant to get home and have a nice warm bath.
I hate February.
I press the button to roll down the window, and realize that yes, my car is dead. I get out of the car. “My battery’s dead again,” I tell him. “I need a jump. I have cables in my car.”
“Oh, okay,” he says. “I’ll drive my car over.”
He turns on his heel and runs back. I pop the hood of my car, dig into my purse and check my text messages. It’s going to take him a while to shovel the snow off his car, and there’s no way I’m helping him.
Before long, he’s back. I hop out of my car and run to the back to fetch my cables.
I pry open the hood of my Caravan. I look over at him, cables in hand. He stares at me for a second and bites his bottom lip, and I realize he has no clue what do to.
A slow smile traces my lips. I fucking love it. Who’s the damsel in distress now? I can’t believe the guy doesn’t know how to jump a car.
“Okay…” I hand him the cables. “Here you go.”
“Um…” he says, at a complete loss for words. “Yeah, okay. Yeah, I’ll pop my trunk… uh, I mean, my hood.” He scurries back to his car.
He’s there for way too long — he probably doesn’t even know where the hood thingie is. Meanwhile, I’m freezing my rear off, but I’m still enjoying this. So much.
