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“So you keep saying.” he said and stepped closer.
I narrowed my eyes, then turned and hopped up onto the trunk of my car to expand the distance between us.
“You never did anything, for me to choose otherwise,” I replied.
“I beg to differ.” He smirked, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and backed away. I smirked remembering that night at the club, to what he was referring. “The first night we met, I was a little— ornery,” he said.
I nodded, smiling. “Okay, but honestly, that was nothing compared to what some have done to me,” I said, resting my elbows on my knees. Before he could say anything else, the tow truck pulled up. “Tow truck’s here,” I announced. Nick turned to meet up with the driver. When he was done, we got in my car.
As we pulled up to the first location, I was a little surprised. It was a homeless shelter.
“I’ll join you, in a minute,” I said, turning off the engine.
Nick got out and made his way into the building.
I grabbed a brush out of the glove box and dragged it through my hair until all the knots were out, and then tied it up again.
When I walked in, Nick was behind the counter, cooking.
I leaned against the doorframe watching him, unable to keep from smiling. He caught my stare a few times, and gestured for me to join him, but I declined. I preferred to watch him work.
Afterwards, as Nick announced he was leaving, the other volunteers all walked up to thank him. He hugged them and shook their hands before we left. I followed beside him to the car, not saying anything.
I was impressed.
“What?” He said, noticing my gaze.
“Nothing,” I said, with a shrug.
On our way to the next address the car fell rather silent. Apart
from him giving me the address, we barely spoke two words. The next place we stopped at was a retirement home. Mrs.
Foster had started visiting retirement homes after her parents had
moved to one; and with her parents’ suggestions about what could
help uplift some of the retirees’ spirits, Mrs. Foster took the liberty
of offering her time for an hour twice a week. Most times she read
books, classics from an era of their choosing, stories like The
Scarlet Letter or Hamlet.
Today, many were happy to hear Nick’s choice of novel,
Shakespeare’s classic Romeo and Juliet.
Funny that Romeo and Juliet just so happened to be one of my
favourite tragic love stories as well. I turned to find a seat, when
Nick grabbed my hand and led me to the chair next to his. With a
smile, I nodded and took the seat next to him. He started reading
with such passion and enthusiasm that the group was enthralled by
