Page 30 of Checking Mr. Wrong
I slug him in his arm playfully. “Of course you’d say that.”
“He’s right,” Clara agrees. “She needs to know you’re into her, but it’s not just that. Be flirty, get vulnerable, and show her who you really are, but also make her feel wanted. Like you see her.”
“Of course I see her,” I respond, holding my hands out by my side. “What am I supposed to do, text her and say ‘I see you’?”
“Because that doesn’t sound creepy at all.” Cade snorts. “Maybe add ‘the call is coming from inside the house…’”
“Anyway.” Clara ignores us as we dissolve into frat-boy laughter. “Asher, for Drench for Defense, I don’t know if I asked if you can arrive ten minutes early? It’s for a photo for the paper.”
“Of course.” Clara’s Drench for Defense has taken on a life of its own. It’s grown in size and numbers, being touted now on flyers around town. I’ve even heard it mentioned on the local radio station, which feels like a big deal for these parts.
I’m in my head thinking about how cold it might be tomorrow when Dr. Bernice Chen, the local doctor in charge of the group while also balancing her multiple sclerosis, walks up to our little gathering.
She looks at me and nods. “Good sharing tonight, Asher. I know it’s not easy to come into a room of people you don’t know and talk about anything as personal as this is for all of us, especially your OCD.”
“Funny that.” I chuckle. “I'm finding talking about it makes it easier.”
“I completely understand that. It lightens our load,” she acknowledges as she pats Clara’s arm. “Sorry to interrupt, but can I steal you for a minute?”
As they step aside, I pull my phone out of my pocket and call a cab. “You want to come with?” I ask Cade as I disconnect.
He’s not really listening to me. I follow his gaze and see it’s steady on Clara, watching her as she chats easily with Dr. Chen. When he doesn’t respond, I punch his arm playfully again.
“Earth to Cade.”
His head swivels to face me, his expression guilty. “Sorry, man. What did you say?”
“My cab will be here in a few. Want to share it?”
He pauses before begrudgingly nodding. “Sure, why not?”
My place is empty when I get back. Carson’s left a note on the table that he’s out for the night, which is fine by me. This is one of those rare occasions when I get to have the place to myself—which means, I can watch whatever I want on the television. I don’t even know where to start.
I’m still trying to decide if I wantSelling Sunset’shouse porn or a good old medical drama, when my phone dings, signaling a text. A quick glance at the time tells me it won’t be my mother, not with the time difference.
Hey Asher, just a heads-up I’ll be at Drench for Defense.
Are you coming to see me with my shirt off?
…
Here we go again. The dreaded three dots.
Please. I get more of a rush seeing a Ken doll with his shirt off. I have to interview your roommate, so I wanted you to know I’d be there so it didn’t throw you.
I stare at my phone wondering what she means. Then it clicks.
You’re being nice because of my OCD, aren’t you?
That’s both loaded and unfair.
Also true?
That, too.
I start to type back, but stop. It’s times like this I really don’t know what to say. I think I have the perfect line, the best way to say thank you and then…delete, delete, delete.
OHMYGOD
