Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Joey
My thoughts race as Dallas releases my hand and starts walking again. I keep pace with him, my teeth tugging at my bottom lip as I think. No one has ever understood me so completely, so quickly before. It took Twila months to fully understand all of my idiosyncrasies when we first met. And that was first grade, so my issues were a fraction of what they are now.
I’ve hung out with Dallas three times if you count the time he fixed my cabinets, and he already gets it and knows exactly what to do and say. And he’s not annoyed by my fear of being annoying. I’m shocked while somehow simultaneously unsurprised.
He just makes me feel…seen .
Silence stretches between us, but I can see Dallas’ smile as he watches the waves crash against the sand. He seems at peace, so at odds with the emotions snaking through me. His calm seems to wash over me, and my heartrate slows as I work up the nerve to ask the question burning inside me.
“How did you know exactly what to say to make me feel okay being me?”
Dallas stops walking and turns to face me. “I had a friend in high school who suffered from social anxiety disorder. His case was severe––he got sweaty and nauseous every morning just thinking about having to go to school. And when he got there, he avoided eye contact and refused to talk to anyone. The only reason we became friends was because a teacher paired us together on a long-term project. He eventually began to feel more comfortable around me, and we ended up becoming best friends. Your anxiety is obviously not as bad as his was, but I noticed the signs. The way you barely cracked the door open the day we met, for instance.”
“Self-preservation,” I argue with a slight smile.
“Maybe,” he says with a nod. “But then you refused to call the super about your cabinets because you didn’t want to bother him––even though that’s his job . You work from home, and from what I’ve seen so far, you rarely go out. But I didn’t put it all together until a few minutes ago, when you thought asking someone for thirty seconds of their time to snap a picture would be too annoying. ”
He’s got my number. That’s for sure. But the surprising part is that he doesn’t seem put off by my issues. Not in the least.
“I’ve always been an introvert,” I say softly.
He looks thoughtful for a moment, then stiffens his spine as he holds my gaze. “I’m going to ask you a question, and I don’t want you to answer me. I just want you to answer it for yourself, okay?”
“Okay,” I say, feeling a bit nervous.
He nods, then sucks in a deep breath before asking, “Do you avoid social situations because you prefer to be alone? Or do you do it because you’re nervous or uncomfortable around other people?”
I blink a few times as I consider his questions, but Dallas doesn’t give me time to dwell. Taking my hand, he pulls me across the sand toward the parking lot.
“All right. Enough of the deep stuff,” he says as we walk. “Let’s go check the marina for seals.”
He stops by his car as we cross the lot, unlocks the doors, and pulls a sweatshirt from the backseat. I wish I’d thought to bring one. It’s a bit chilly out here, and the skies are still overcast with thick, gray clouds. Dallas swings around, and holds the hoodie toward me. When I just stare at it, he gives it a little shake.
“Take it,” he says. “Your arms are covered in chill bumps.”
I start to decline, mostly out of habit, but Dallas’ eyes beg me to just take it and put it on. After a brief internal debate, I nod and thank him in whispered words. He exhales like he was holding his breath, and a warmth spreads through me that has nothing to do with the thick hoodie.
“What’s your middle name?” he asks as we set off again, crossing the lot to see the marina on the other side.
“My middle name?” I ask.
“Yeah. I was trying to think of something light and easy to talk about and that’s what I came up with,” he says with a laugh. “Now, tell me. I want to know.”
“Ophelia,” I say.
“Josette Ophelia Barnes. I like i–– Wait. Your initials are J.O.B.”
“Yes. I’m aware,” I deadpan, then relax into a smile. “It could be worse. Callie’s initials are C.O.B.”
“Does she have the same middle name as you?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“No, hers is Olive. My parents swear our middle names were picked in honor of some great aunts on our dad’s side, but Callie and I have our suspicions. It would fall right in line with their twisted senses of humor to name us Cob and Job.”
Dallas’ laughter surrounds me, warming me from the inside out again as we approach the railing that overlooks the marina. My eyes scan the docks for lounging seals as I speak.
“Okay, now it’s your turn,” I say.
“My turn for what?” he asks.
“Tell me your middle name.”
He flinches as he says, “Franklin.”
It’s a strong name. I don’t know why there’s color riding high on his cheeks. Dallas Franklin…
“Oh,” I say, a laugh bursting out of me before I can stop it. Dallas watches me with an unreadable expression, and I attempt to stifle the laughter while saying, “I’m sorry.”
“No. Go ahead. Get it all out,” he says, waving his hand like he’s asking for more.
“Dallas Franklin Westfield,” I say with another laugh. “Your parents named you Dallas and made your initials D.F.W.”
“Like the whole metropolitan area. And the airport,” he adds when I don’t say it. “My parents were obviously proud of their roots.”
I smile at him softly, and he returns it. Clearing my throat at the suddenly charged moment, I turn to survey the marina again. Laughing, I point at a dark head poking out of the water near one of the docks. As we watch, the seal rockets itself out of the water to land on the wooden slats just as the sun breaks through the thinning clouds to shine down on it.
We spot a few more seals and watch their antics before turning to head back to the car. Our conversation is light and entertaining as we drive back to Grenville, but in the quiet moments, my mind returns to the questions Dallas asked on the beach.
Do you avoid social situations because you prefer to be alone? Or do you do it because you’re nervous or uncomfortable around other people?
As I think about it, I realize the answer isn’t what I thought it would be. As much as I hide out in my apartment and call myself an introvert, I don’t actually love being alone. I don’t mind it, but I don’t love it, either. I stay there because when I’m around other people, I’m constantly worrying about their feelings. Do they like me? Am I annoying anyone? What if they don’t want to be around me and are just too polite to say it?
The only people I feel completely comfortable around are my parents, my sister, Twila, and Raven.
Well, that’s not exactly true anymore, is it?
I’m pretty comfortable right now, with Dallas. I mean, sure, he makes me nervous, but for completely different reasons that have nothing to do with my normal anxiety. This nervous is a good nervous. An excitement that makes my blood sing and my heart pound.
When we get back to our apartment building, we’re both silent as we ride the elevator up and walk down our hall. But it’s a good silence. A comfortable one that neither of us feels the need to fill. We stop in front of my door, and I pull my keys from my bag.
“Thank you for inviting me today. It was fun,” I say softly.
“Thank you for joining me. It was fun,” he replies.
I turn to unlock my door, then spin back around to see him turning back toward me. We open our mouths and start speaking at the same time, then we both cut off with a laugh.
“You go ahead,” I say.
“No. You. Please,” he says, and I take a deep breath.
“Would you like to come over for dinner tonight? I was just going to make grilled cheese and tomato soup. It’s nothing special. You know what? Never mind. Forget I asked.”
“I’d love to,” he says with a grin when my words finally peter out.
“You’d love to?”
“I would.”
“Okay,” I say, my smile growing wider. “How’s five o’clock? I know it’s early, but we only had ice cream for lunch and––”
“Five o’clock is perfect,” he cuts in, ending another bout of word vomit.
“Okay,” I say again. “See you then.”
“See you then,” he says, and starts to turn.
“Wait,” I say, and he turns back. “What were you going to say?”
“I was going to ask what you’re doing for dinner,” he says with a wink, then turns and unlocks his apartment, strolling inside.
I’m still watching as he turns back, melts my bones with a heated smile, then closes the door with a chuckle. Gathering my wits, I shuffle into my place and close the door before leaning back against it.
What a day. And it’s not even over yet.
Pushing off the door, I drop my bag and head straight to my room. I need to shower off the beach and find something to wear for my…date.
But it’s not really a date, is it? Dallas is just coming over for a sandwich and some soup. I shake my head and strip off my clothes and the bathing suit I’m still wearing beneath them. Tonight doesn’t need a label.
I like being around Dallas, and by some miracle, he seems to like being around me. I don’t know if his interest is romantic or platonic, but I’ve got plenty of time to figure that out. I don’t need to stress over it today.
I can worry about it all some other time.