Awkward Meet Normal

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Annabelle:

My mother and brother both had texted, saying my father was recovering. But Dash wanted to stop and check in on him.

We were in and out. My father was still acting weird and calling me kiddo, darling, and his little Annie. It was too odd. Growing up, I had always wanted this affectionate father; now that he was here, I didn't know how to take it.

Dash had been acting pretty cagey since this morning, and I had no clue what he had planned for our date. It was mid-afternoon by the time we left the hospital, and I wondered when our date would start.

"Don't I need to go home and change?" I asked. We had stopped at a store on the way to the hospital, and Dash had picked an outfit out for me. Jeans and a simple grey heather v-neck shirt, and converses.

"Nah. I like this, Annabelle." He said, holding my hand in the car. He had been touching me since he gave me my morning orgasm, and I wondered how he was not experiencing major blue balls. I felt guilty leaving him in the kitchen as he finished cooking the meal. He did wash his hands; I heard the sink running shortly after I went upstairs.

We stopped at a bookstore.

"This is my favorite one in the city."

"How do you know?" I asked when he parked the car.

He looked me in the eyes. "When you know, you just know." He said, and then he got out to open my door.

Every stop with him, he had been opening my door. I always thought I would hate it if a guy did that for me; apparently, I find it charming, especially when he opens it to get in the car.

"Come on; we don't have all day, Smalls." This was the fourth time he had called me Smalls.

"Can I ask why that nickname?" I asked before we stepped into the bookstore.

"Cubs girl. Baseball. Sandlot. It fits." He said in clipped sentences.

And then he held the door to the bookstore open for me. And he was right when you knew you knew. The bookstore was small and charming but filled floor to ceiling with books. A dog greeted us upon arrival, and I dropped to my knees to give the dog a proper hello.

"His name is Scooter, and he is a rascal," an old man barked out, coming down the aisle. "I thought that was you, Dash," he said when he saw who was standing at the front door. "And who is this pretty lady?"

The man had to be mid-seventies. He had grey hair and wore a grey cardigan. He was the perfect bookstore attendant for this charming bookstore. The lighting was dimmed enough to give it the ideal ambiance. There was nothing worse than browsing books in full-on light. Barnes and Nobles needed to learn and thing or two from this gentleman.

"Annabelle," Dash said. "This is Pete."

"Pete and my dog Scooter." The old man barked again. I didn't know if he could talk normally.

The bookstore was called Scooter's Books, and I wanted to ask if Scooter was the original or if he was one of many Scooters.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," I said to Scooter and then stood to shake Pete's hand.

"Oh no," he laughed. "She is too nice for you." Pete's eyes sparkled as he looked at Dash. "What are you looking for today?" He asked Dash.

"I'm going to browse," I said to Dash as I started making it down the classical section. Somedays, it was not about finding my next read; some days, it was just about seeing the book covers. Maybe that was silly, but I tended to be silly about most things.