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Still seemingly stunned by my awesome abilities, he finally lurched forward to take the folded chair from me. “Here. I’ll put it in the trunk.”
“Thanks.” I held on to the car as I turned around to try the passenger’s side door and found it unlocked. Whew. The heels Reese had put me in made it a little more challenging than it usually was for me, but I still managed to slide down into the waiting seat without a spill.
By the time Seth had stowed the chair, I was settled, seat belted, and ready to go.
“Wow, you’re good at that,” he said as he slid behind the wheel.
His praise made me glow. “I’ve had practice.”
Holy wow, maybe I wasn’t going to bomb tonight after all. Aside from my frightening family, I personally seemed to be doing okay with this whole dating business.
And Seth was an absolute gentleman.
“So where are we going?” I asked, setting my hand against my stomach because I was starving.
He crinkled his brow thoughtfully before saying, “I’m sorry, what?”
Ack. He couldn’t understand me. I kept forgetting he wasn’t family; he wasn’t used to my vernacular. My speech impediment had improved drastically since Reese had set me up with a therapist when I was thirteen, so I thought I spoke extremely clearly these days. Some people still had trouble understanding me sometimes, though.
Slowly, I repeated, “Where are we going?”
I’d been too nervous to eat earlier. But now...now I could probably eat a whale. Oh crap, how unseemly was it to pig out on a first date?
Damn, that would’ve been a good question for Reese.
“How about my place,” he asked, casting me an uncertain glance.
My lips parted, not expecting that. In my head, dates equaled eating out at a restaurant.
“Uh...” I shook my head free of that notion. “Sure. That sounds fine.”
This might actually be better. I was still less comfortable in public. If it was just the two of us, I could relax and be myself more.
I hoped.
My hands fiddled in my lap the entire five minutes to his apartment complex. I’d learned long ago that fidgeting on purpose quelled a lot of the involuntary movements
Neither of us spoke, and it wasn’t a very comfortable silence. I kept trying to think up things to say, only to veto every idea I had as lame.
“Here we are,” he murmured as he pulled into the building’s parking lot and found a spot to park, far away from the handicap spot where I’d have to go to roll my chair up to the curb.
“This is a nice area,” I said as we both opened our doors. We were in the historic part of town. “Is your building on the historic tour?”
He paused and glanced back. “What?”
My face heated. Okay, even I’d heard the slur that time. Making sure to enunciate each word precisely, I repeated the question.
“Oh. Uh...” He shook his head, looking a little dazed. “I don’t think so.”
He didn’t say more as he unlocked his trunk and pulled out my chair.
All righty then. He wasn’t a big conversationalist. Note taken.
But yeah, I wasn’t sure how to work with that.
“Thanks,” I told him as I took over, unfolding the wheelchair and sliding down into my seat.
Things continued to get more awkward as he tried to lead me straight to the curb, but I had to find a flatter part to get onto the sidewalk.
