Page 49 of An Introvert's Guide to Life and Love
I almost think I’ve misheard him. “For what?”
“I laughed. When you said you were going to pull up the carpets on your own.”
“Oh.” I’m so surprised by this, I don’t know what to say. Looking back, I guess it was a bit rude. But I’d also thought it was sort of flirtatious ribbing. So maybe it wasn’t flirting at all, but genuine hilarity at the thought of me doing house renovations by myself.
“What I should have said,” Daniel continues, “was that I’d be happy to help.”
Okay, now I’m more confused than ever. He wants to help me? Isthisflirting?
“I’ve done this sort of project half a dozen times,” he continues. “I’m not an expert by any means, but with another pair of hands you’d be finished twice as fast.”
I must still be on edge because of the work fiasco and the Fig Newton argument, because this rubs me the wrong way.
“What, you think I can’t do it myself?”
“Whoa,” he says, half laughing. “I would never suggest such a thing.”
“Good, because—” I start, my voice rising aggressively.
“Hey, now.” He’s not laughing anymore, his voice like warm honey. “What’s going on? Is everything okay on your end?”
A little fighting part of me wants to keep arguing with him, to vent some of my frustration about, well, everything. But instead, I melt.
“Not really.” My voice cracks embarrassingly. I clutch the seashell pillow to my chest. “I’m having a… hard time.” The introvert in me is extremely uncomfortable sharing my feelings like this with Daniel, someone I’m supposed to be on professional terms with. But talking to him on the phone like this, late at night, it feels okay. Comfortable, even. And Ididkiss him, so.
“Tell me what’s going on.”
The way he says it is so inviting, everything pours out of me. My worries about working remotely, the argument with Gramps, how I just want to help him but I don’t know if I’m actually helping.
After I come up for air, he doesn’t say anything for a moment. That’s it, I’ve scared him off. I knew I should have kept it professional.
But then he says, “I know what will help.”
“You do?”
“Mm-hmm. My buddy Jones is having a party tomorrow night. You’re welcome to join me. Get your mind off your troubles for the evening.”
When I don’t say anything for a moment, he adds, “Amanda will be there.”
I have a lot to do, but it’s not like I’m going to accomplish all of it tomorrow night. The idea of having some fun is extremely tempting.
“I would love to.”
“Wonderful. I’ll text you the details. Actually, I can pick you up if you like.”
“On your bike?”
He laughs. “No, ma’am. I do own a car.”
“Deal. And, Daniel, there is one more thing that’s bothering me.”
“What’s that?”
I hesitate. “I have no idea how to install new floors.”
He rumbles with laughter. “Are you accepting my offer of help?”
I bite my lip, smiling to myself, my heart racing with giddy nerves. The idea of him helping me with the house—well, it’s a lot. It would be a big commitment from him, and a big expectation for me to spend so much time with him. One-on-one.
