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“The one fixing the Fiat,” I specify. “I’m really surprised it’s taking so long.”
“Something with the spare parts…” mumbles Philipp. “Matze said something about delivery bottlenecks. Once they finally get here, it’s only a matter of hours, then you’ll have your beloved 500 back.”
“Okay.” Outwardly calm, I squint over at him out of the corner of my eye.
He takes the traffic circle of Outer Ward’s Street and Heinrich’s Castle Lane full speed and lets the truck roll along the extensive premises of the sheet metal processing company at the prescribed eighteen miles per hour.
I lean back in the wonderfully comfortable contour seat, and when we have to stop before the traffic light at the intersection near the MediaMarkt, I close my eyes for a moment. No sooner have I taken a breath or two than the film that has recently been haunting me on every morning drive to work begins to play before my eyes:
Arriving in front of the office, Philipp lets his pick-up roll out onto the paved forecourt.
I undo the seat belt, bend down for my briefcase. “Thanks for bringing me,” I say as I do every morning, already reaching for the lever of the door opener. “Have a great day—and see you tonight.”
“See you tonight…” Philipp doesn’t complete his sentence. Instead, a click sounds as if from the seatbelt buckle, which causes me to pause and turn to face him.
“Is something wrong?”
He looks into my eyes urgently before his gaze sinks to my mouth.
Did I retain a crumb in the corner of my mouth from breakfast? Before I can even flip down the sun visor and push aside the makeup mirror cover, Philipp leans over the voluminous center arm console to me.
“May I?” He raises his left hand, stretching his fingers on a level with my head.
Is he asking if he can wipe me clean? Surely a rather intimate gesture. The idea sets off a flutter in my stomach. But after all, we are something like best friends. “Of course,” I allow him, closing my eyes halfway so he can’t read a telltale flicker of my desire from them. But what is it?
Instead of at my mouth, I feel his touch under my chin. Gently, delicately, like a butterfly’s wing. At the same time, his fingers apply unyielding pressure, forcing me to lift my head for him.
Irritated, I open my eyes, collide with his hypnotic gaze and register, as if in slow motion, that he tilts his head, coming closer and closer…
…to land with his lips on my mouth…
“Hello, you dreamer!” Philip’s voice snaps me out of my romantic fantasy. “Time to wake up. We’re here!”
I blink a few times until my vision clears—and find myself in exactly the position I just imagined: In front of the Chamber of Commerce and Industries office on Upper Mill Road. “I wasn’t asleep,” I claim, though I’m not so sure.
“Sure.” Philipp, his forearms leaning on the steering wheel, smirks at me as I dive for my bag, just as I had imagined.
Hand on the lever of the door opener, I turn to him. “Thank you so much for bringing me. Have a great day—and see you tonight.”
“See you tonight,” he echoes, and as I’m already climbing out of the cab, he winks at me. “And for the umpteenth time, you don’t have to thank me. I know for a fact that you’d love to abandon my driving service.”
Well. If only that were the case. I grimace vaguely, because in the meantime I wouldn’t want to miss the few minutes of togetherness in the morning and evening.
Philipp must be misinterpreting my facial expressions, because he sighs. “I’d really like to spare my babysitting services.” He runs his right hand over his short-cropped hair. “I guess I have no choice but to light a fire under Matze regarding yourcarnoodle.”
“It’s not that urgent,” I specify, sighing softly. Then I tighten my shoulders. “Ciao-ciao, then.”
“Bye,” he says, pulling the right corner of his mouth to the side.
Does he have to do that?He looks even sexier that way. Before I can lapse into hopeless slobbering again, I close the passenger door and Philipp hits the gas.
Although the gusty east wind whistles through my coat’s button placket, I stay put and watch the Dodge as it threads its way into the morning rush hour traffic and roars away.
“I didn’t realize your fiancé drives a U.S. pickup.” Mr. Bretschneider’s voice makes me whirl around. “Good morning,” he adds with a bashful smile, straightening his tie. “Honestly, that kind of car…” He emits an embarrassed cough. “I’ve been dreaming about a Dodge pickup since I got my driver’s license back in the day. But look at me: Staidly to the core, as I am, I’ve never had the heart to do it.”
“Hmm.”Oh, my goodness, I hope he’s not about to tell me his whole life story now?I don’t exactly flee from him, but I do rub my sleeves demonstratively, as if I’m cold, and head for the entrance.
“Anyway…” He catches up with long strides, lapping me to hold the door open for me. “I never thought your fiancé would indulge himself like that. He made a very conservative impression after all…”
