Chapter 23
Almost a week passed until I saw David again. During that time, we barely exchanged more than a few texts with each other. The busyness of university, something I typically thrived in, became an annoying hindrance.
So, I was practically a baby deer, stumbling over my knobby knees when he picked me up for dinner.
I was severely out of practice at conversing with him.
And severely anxious for his attention. The sky was a reddish pink, and the trees above the sidewalk cast long shadows over the cement when he finally pulled into the lot.
“Hey,” David said as he stepped out of his car. The freshly-ironed creases in his button-down were endearing. He was freshly shaven, his jawline sharp.
I’d been waiting for him to pick me up for twenty minutes.
Sitting inside had become impossible, so I’d come downstairs in the hope that the cold air and real world would center me.
It didn’t. The fact wouldn’t be so frustrating if David didn’t look so unbothered.
He’d probably spent his day like he usually did: unfazed by the knowledge he was seeing me later.
He probably ate his breakfast without keeping an eye out for a specific text notification.
I bet he went to class without wondering if I was in the student center.
“How long have you been out here?” He went to the passenger side of the car. And just like when he picked me up to go to my parents’ house, he opened the door for me.
“Not long.” I refused to give any indication of dwindling sanity. “You?”
It was a nonsensical question that lost me credibility in a heartbeat. David smiled, knowing.
“You could have texted if you missed me,” he said. “I would have made time for you.”
David rested his hands on top of the car door like he had all the time in the world.
“I didn’t want your time.” I placed a hand in between his, as I paused before getting in.
“Then what was it you wanted?”
“Nothing you’re willing to give,” I said after a second.
“And how do you know that?”
I shrugged. “I know you.”
I slipped into the car before he could respond. And David didn’t offer any protest until he was back in the driver’s seat.
“You don’t know what I’d give you.” He started the car and pulled onto the road. There was a soft hum of pop music playing and a warm cup of coffee from the school’s cafe in the cup holder. I didn’t have to ask if it was for me because my name was already on it, written in cursive.
“Many things, I’m sure,” I mused under my breath. “The first and most frequent being a headache.”
He laughed. “What’s it going to take to get you in a better mood for dinner?”
“I’m in a great mood.” I picked up the cup and took a tentative sip. It was the perfect temperature.
David looked at me for a second. I gestured for him to keep his gaze on the road.
“Why do you look so nervous anytime you’re in a car?” he asked. “Is it because your driver sucks?”
“My driver?”
“You have a family driver,” he reminded me.
“Oh.” I waved my hand. “We don’t have a family driver… we request them from the same company. Nine times out of ten, it’s a different person.”
“Fine, family driving company.” He shook his head with an entertained smile lighting up his face. “Whatever. Is it because of them? Because I’ve never gotten close to getting in an accident while you were in here with me.”
I scoffed. “You nearly rear-ended someone on the way to the beach.”
“I had it under control.”
“Illusion of control, sure.”
“Come on, Yara. I think we’re past the subterfuge and three steps ahead of planning part of our relationship,” he said. “I’ve been your other half, and now, you’re playing mine. We’ve kissed. It’s hardly a secret we hate that we like each other.”
I took another sip of my drink, grappling with his casual confession. David spoke as if all those things were weather changes or postponed assignment due dates. The ease should be comforting. Instead, it grated on my nerves. There was no solid ground to stand on.
“I don’t like cars.” My confession was heavy with shame. “I… I got in an accident when I was learning to drive–that’s why I still don’t have my license. It was pretty bad. My folks haven’t trusted me behind the wheel since. They stopped teaching me.”
“They stopped teaching you.” David’s forehead deeply creased, a valley of concern and disapproval.
“Yeah, and honestly, I stopped asking.”
“You’re rich,” he said. “Stop asking and hire someone.”
I frowned. “I can’t just hire someone.”
“Why not?”
“Because I…” There was a reason, surely. And I’d find it.
“You?”
“I’m not sure I should do it.” My fingers itched to pluck at my crown. The warmth of David’s hand covered mine right as I was about to reach up. His fingers interlaced with mine.
“I could teach you.” His offer sent a spark up my arm.
“You would teach me?” I studied his profile in the hunt for the catch. “You’re offering to teach me how to drive?”
“Of course.” He laughed a little at my disbelief. “Why not?”
“I don’t know. I just didn’t think you’d ever do something like that for me unprompted.”
David’s smile faded. “You still don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what?”
“I’d do anything you’d ask.”
I scoffed. “How sweet. You’re a cute liar.”
“I’ve done everything you’ve asked.”
“Sure, with a lot of convincing, bribing, and guilt-tripping.”
“I like seeing you work for it. But don’t act like you don’t enjoy doing the same to me.”
“I…don’t…”
David shook his head in disagreement. “The only difference between you and me is that I don’t mind working for it. But that’s only because you’re calling the shots.”
“Well, of course,” I said, pretending like this was all obvious, known, and understood.
We were silent for a moment. I was lost in thought and the anxious ‘what-ifs’ buzzing in my chest. David seemed unbothered, taking his last turn into the parking lot of an Italian chain restaurant. It wasn’t until he put the car in park that he said, “So are you in? Driving lessons.”
I tried to smile as I shook my head. “I don’t think it’s worth your time.”
“Why don’t you let me decide that?” There was something earnest and wanting in his voice. I wanted to kiss him so badly it hurt.
“Alright,” I whispered, too confused to protest. “David?”
His hand paused before he opened the door.
“Why is this the simplest and hardest thing we’ve done?” I gestured between him and me.
David smiled and gave a lazy shrug. “Because it’s fun. It’s us.”
The restaurant was dimly lit, a slight contrast to the bustling energy of patrons inside.
Kids ran back and forth from table to table, occasionally knocking into David and me as we made our way through the building.
People left chairs pushed out, making the walkway an obstacle course.
And the high volume of classical music made me wonder whether they wanted to encourage people to go to clear the traffic jam at the hostess’s booth.
“David,” Weston greeted, finding us meandering through the throng of people.
“Where’s everyone?” David scanned the place in disapproval.
“That building beyond the courtyard.” Weston pointed toward the stained-glass doors, propped open, letting the breeze in and the smell of pasta out.
“Didn’t realize the party was this big.” David’s words nearly got buried beneath the squeals of rampant grade-schoolers. But his friend didn’t notice, turning his attention to me.
“Yara.” Weston smiled. “It’s good to see you. Glad you’re here.”
And it actually sounded like he meant it.
I returned his smile, a sense of calm settling over my shoulder that at least one person wouldn’t side-eye my attendance.
Being a football player’s (fake) girlfriend came with expectations.
The players’ partners were their extensions, potential chess pieces in a grand marketing story.
“Next time we scrimmage, you’re on my team, yeah?” Weston asked.
My smile grew wider. “No promises I’ll be a great asset. I had only one trick up my sleeve.”
“It was a great trick.” Weston patted a very distracted David’s shoulder. “All good?”
My brows pinched when David shook his head. I opened my mouth to say something, but Weston beat me to the punch. “Yara, do you mind giving us a second? The courtyard’s a good place for air. A couple of the guys are out there now.”
An easy, polite dismissal. It shouldn’t irritate me, and yet, I release a heavy sigh after David and Weston start toward the opposite end of the restaurant.
Why hadn’t he told me he was nervous?
Why didn’t you ask?
The phone worked both ways. And though David and I had become in sync in pissing one another off, being there for each other would take effort. I resolved to do as much. David wasn’t the person to spill out all his worries unprompted. But I could be the person who prompted.
The courtyard was home to a mini garden, with dying flowers and browning leaves.
There were a handful of guys talking near the fountain, like Weston said, but none of them looked familiar.
I wasn’t in the mood for introductions. But that didn’t matter too much when I saw Covee Bailey sitting by herself on a bench in front of a man-made waterfall. I perked up.
“Hey, girl.” I stopped in front of her.
Covee looked up, eyes squinted with confusion, before a smile lit up her eyes. “Yara?”
She was up, hugging me before I could get another word out. I laughed, wrapping my arms around her as if we were long-lost cousins.
“What are you doing here?” I asked once we finally released each other.
Last I’d seen her, she was sitting in the back of an org meeting with her nose in her laptop and a stern look on her face.
She was far more relaxed now. Hair out of her braids and coiling around her cheeks, dress hugging at her waist before flowing down her long legs.
She shrugged. “With Weston.”
“With Weston?” I stepped back, exaggerating my surprise.
Covee laughed and waved her hand. “It’s… a long story.”
“I knew it,” I said. “So are you two…?”