Dorm Room 210 [Original]

Dorm Room 210: A Side Dish For Superman 1

Author note: This chapter has been revised and edited. Updated 13th June 2017

Chapter 9:

A Side Dish for Superman 1

There's a cool breeze in the air, and our shoes make majority of the noise against the pavement. Grey clouds covered the sky as we make our way to the student parking, just left from reception.

Despite the clouds above us, the late afternoon is warm enough to get away from wearing heavy coated jackets and jumpers. But the black dress I bought reveals too much skin, and I wear one anyway. Noah has his suit jacket over his shoulder, looking a million bucks worthy despite the jeans he pairs his shirt and black tie with. His brown hair jells away from his face; a few strands slipping out on his forehead. He knows how good he looks. Anyone within eyesight knows this, too.

A few people whistle at us as we walk by. It's startling and embarrassing and the attention isn't welcoming, but I do feel good. There's streetlamp for company as cars pull in and out. Noah checks his phone with an impatient sigh. "The limo should be here by now."

My eyes go wide. As if the attention isn't bad enough. "We're going to a dinner in a limo?"

"It's Aaron's." He side glances me. "He likes to flaunt his toys. I would've chosen my car, at least if dinner doesn't go well we can just leave."

I grasp my phone. "I've never been in a limo before."

"There's always a first time for everything."

A comfortable silence wraps itself around us until Noah comments, "Your dress is nice."

I press a flat hand against the material. "Rachel picked it out and Nicole approved. They're good friends."

His eyes remain on my face. "Well, you look good."

I gesture to him. "You look good, too."

The conversation between us stills when a black limousine stops before us. Noah doesn't bat an eyelash as he opens the door for me. I, on the other hand, feel the stares and whispers floating around us as people stop by to see what's going on. 

My face reddens, but I don't hesitate jumping inside to hide from civilization. 

I tug the dress low and crouch down to slip inside. Honestly, I feel like a kid again. The seats are leather and white; two rows of it stretching out towards the other side and down towards the driver's area in an L shape. Walking down the spacious isle, my eyes attack the inside walls glowing in blue. A spotlight aims down at a bench top, lined up with shot glasses and a bottle of what looks like red wine, a plate of five Vanilla Swiss Rolls on the side.

"Say hi to Devine," Noah says, as he sits down on the row across from me.

I run my hand on the leather seats. "Hi Devine. You're so pretty."

"Thank you, Miss."

I pull my hand away as my eyes widen.

Noah points a finger to the front of the car. "Lillian, meet Devine: our driver of the night."

The little window separating the driver and the passenger's part open, and a man with a thick, heavy mustache between his potato nose smiles at me, waving.

"Good evening, Miss. I am Devine."

I wave back. "Hello."

Devine then points to the chair. "You sit there while I drive. Okay?" His European accent is thick and heavy, and raw. I give him a nod and say, "Okay."