Diving In (Open Door Love Story) (4 page)

Chapter Six

Friday is busy and I’m thankful for it. I don’t have to think about or say anything besides “what’s your last name?” and “that’ll be $9.75.” I work straight through lunch, as does Junnuen, so when I see a tiny break, I run upstairs to grab some fresh coffee for the both of us and a handful of animal crackers for me. No, I’m not on a diet. Hardy har har.

Grandpa shows up around three and my stomach flip flops seeing him go directly from the back to the front door. He opens it out and then stands outside, lets it fall closed and then pushes it in.

He raises his eyebrows at me. “Don’t know what your mom got so up in arms about this for. Seems to work great and now it’ll be easier for folks in wheelchairs to get through.”

I shrug. “That was the whole idea. You know Mom.”

Grandpa kind of chuckles in a way that says,
I do, but it’s not really funny
. “How much did you pay for it? She said you didn’t use Landon, which is perfectly fine by me, that man’s a menace to society, but I suspect that’s partly why she’s got a bee in her bonnet.”

“My friend.” I cringe a little inside thinking about how badly I wanted Gabe to kiss me and how friend doesn’t even begin to describe the way things are between us, “The one who actually brought the problem to my attention. His dad is used to figuring out how to modify things for him, so he came over before his shift at Chandler’s and did it for free.”

“Really? I hope you offered him a discount at least?” Grandpa was the King of Discounts – not that he gave the store away, but he for sure knew when and how much to give each customer.

“I started out giving them twenty percent for the hassle of the door and for getting their Thanksgiving linens in three weeks early.” I examine my fingernails. “But then Mom pissed me off by being Mom, so I told Mr. Riley they could have free dry cleaning for life.”

This time Grandpa really does laugh. “I’ll let you tell her about that.”

I roll my eyes. “I won’t have to tell her. She’s still going over my receipts and questioning my every move.”

Grandpa comes away from the door and starts futzing with things on the counter – taking the pens out of their container and dropping them back in, arranging all the finished tickets on the spindle we stab them onto so that they all go the same way. Finally, he takes in a deep breath.

“I’m going to let you have this store and I’m going to keep Kathleen out of it. Your mom is a great businesswoman and Lord knows she’s done wonders with the measly empire I tried to build, but she’s not a very nice person and I don’t want you to become like her. You have lots of potential, Brynnie. I want you to take it all over and I’m going to let you start now, if you want.”

I lean over the counter and drag Grandpa into a hug. “Of course I want! I have so many ideas and I promise I won’t disappoint you.”

“I know you won’t, sweetheart.” Grandpa backs away from me a bit and then comes around the counter. After a minute of rummaging, he comes up with a Help Wanted sign. “I’ll stick this in the window, if you want to put an ad on Craiglist and with the paper.”

“What position am I hiring for?” I think Junnuen and I are kicking ass.

“You’re going to want someone part-time for Christmas, aren’t you?” He props the sign up against the glass right next to the door.

“Sure, I guess. I just assumed you and Mom were going to make me suffer through a holiday season in a, like, trial by fire kind of thing.”

“Well, if your mother was in charge, I’m sure that’s the way things would go. But, since she’s only got forty-nine percent interest in my business, I do have two percent more say. And I say you’re gonna do fine and you’re gonna need some help.” Grandpa winks. “Plus, I did say for Christmas. I’ll let Thanksgiving week be your final test.”

After Grandpa leaves, I find myself wanting to text Gabe to tell him the good news … except I don’t have his number and I really shouldn’t be texting Gabe.

I text Andy instead.

Hey, baby. Guess what? Grandpa is officially giving me this store to run as I please!!

When he doesn’t text back immediately, I go through what I think his schedule is in my head. No, there’s no way Andy signed up for a class that meets on Friday afternoon. I consider texting him again, but then decide that getting a life is a better idea.

A regular, Mrs. Hoffman, comes in with a big bag of linens – three large table cloths, forty-four cloth napkins, three table runners, and then her usual bag of her husband’s slacks and shirts. Work steals away the rest of the afternoon and early evening, and then I’m booking it to get closed and out the door to swim class.

I’m running for the bus when Gabe drives by me, honking. I hadn’t expected him to remember he’d said he’d give me a ride, especially after I got all weird on him yesterday. He pulls over into the 7-Eleven parking lot behind me and I backtrack, jogging over to the van.

He rolls the window down as I approach. “You still need a ride, right?”

I nod and he nods back. Guess that means I’m getting in and he’s giving me a ride.

The van is warm, heat blasting from the vents, but I pull my coat close around me anyway.

Without saying a word, Gabe backs out of the space and drives in the direction of the aquatic center.

He’s got the radio turned up extra loud and he’s bobbing his head to the music, some Lady GaGa song that’s new and I don’t know the words to yet. Gabe does. Gabe seems super into it and super not into interacting with me at all. The heat and the music are becoming overwhelming. I want to reach over and shut both of them off and ask him
what the fuck
, except I know what the fuck and I’m probably acting like a weirdo too and not realizing it. We are the very definition of awkward.

Suddenly, Gabe turns the volume on the radio way down. “I like you more than I should.”

I bite my lip so I don’t repeat his words back to him.

“I debated if giving you a ride to swim was crossing a line, but then I figured the happiness of a bunch of old people was on the line and I don’t want to be an asshole to old people – some of them know curses and shit.”

This gets a snort out of me. Mrs. Benedetto comes to mind. Yeah, she could definitely know some old country black magic.

Gabe smiles at me. “Oh, good. You don’t hate my guts, then.”

“Of course I don’t hate your guts,” I say, finally looking him in the eyes. “I was … also on that rooftop, sitting on your lap. I was not acting like someone who has a boyfriend. We should just practice denial and carry on like we’re friends.”

“I can do that. Especially if you’ve got some hot girlfriends you want to set me up with to ease the pain of rejection.”

“Sorry,” I say. “I don’t actually have any other friends besides you.”

“Are you serious?” His eyes go wide. “Do the old folks know you don’t consider them your friends? What about Junnuen?”

I shake my head from side to side. “Okay, I’ll give you that. Junnuen is more like a cool aunt that buys you beer than a friend, though.”

“She buys you beer? You getting’ wasted every night by yourself, Brynn? Do you need to seek help at a rehabilitation facility?”

He gives me a grave look that’s just absolutely dripping with bullshit grin.

“I’m good. I drink every once in a while. I’m really more of a pothead than anything.”

Gabe’s expression becomes genuine. “That’s not great either.”

Noted. “So, you don’t drink or do anything anymore?”

Gabe blanches. “Nah. The last time I did, didn’t work out so well.”

He pulls into the parking lot of the aquatic center and goes down one of the aisles instead of taking me to the front door.

“You can just drop me off. I can bus it home.”

Gabe shrugs. “I thought I’d check out your class. Besides, it’s getting too cold to wait for the bus with wet hair.” He flips his out of his eyes. “I remember a few mornings after a weekend practice my hair froze to my forehead.”

“There are these magical things called hats, y’know,” I say, getting out of the van.

“I realize that, although I don’t know why I never wore one. I guess this was back before my mom watched my every move.”

He wants to sit through my stupid swimming class so that he doesn’t have to go home. I smile at him, understanding completely. We have the same small definition of freedom.

Chapter Seven

Despite the fact that I’m a full twelve minutes early for my class, I’m still the last one in the pool area.

“Do you all get here at, like, three and hang out or what?” I say, sliding into the water.

Mr. Cleveland scoots to the edge of the pool with his walker and sits down on the chair lift. “When you move as slow as we do honey, it pays to give yourself extra time.”

“Makes sense. Guess I was always just rushing in and never thought about it.”

“So, what gives? Why are you on time for once?” Mrs. Caswell asks, sidling up to me. She taps my arm with the tips of her fuchsia nails and nods her head in the direction of the bleachers where Gabe is parked at the end of the front row. “Have anything to do with the fine young man in the wheelchair?”

I blush, giving myself away and dunk under the water to avoid the inevitable four hundred questions that are sure to follow. As I’m looking at all of their water and time distorted bodies, I realize that I’ve never told them anything about Andy. They have no idea there is an Andy.

I surface. Mrs. Caswell shakes her head at me and laughs. “Like you can hold your breath for an hour?”

“That’s my friend Gabe. He took pity on me and drove me here. End of story.”

“Bull pucky,” says Mr. Cleveland, pushing the button on the lift to no avail. I go over to help him. “Any guy who looks at a girl the way he’s looking at you doesn’t want to be friends.”

“Brynn, honey, I hope you’re not putting him off because of the chair,” Mrs. Benedetto says. “My third husband Doug lost both his legs below the knee fighting in Vietnam and he was still a tiger in the sack.”

I fight the urge to see if I can hold my breath underwater for the remainder of the hour. “Mrs. Benedetto! Gabe is paralyzed, he’s not missing limbs.”

She waves the comment away. “There are ways to work around everything. I would know.”

“I’m sure you do and I’m sure I don’t need to hear anymore about it,” I say, chuckling. I remove the battery from the lift. Greg forgot to charge it
again
. The director should just give the job to me; my class uses the lift the most. “Looks like you’re going to have to take the stairs, Mr. Cleveland. The battery’s dead.” I set it down on the pool deck and climb out of the water to charge it in the office. “I’ll be back in a second. Think about whether we want to float or do kickboard work.”

~

I retrieve all the errant kickboards and float them over to the edge of the pool where everyone from all of the classes dumps their gear. Somehow, along with the plum job of teaching senior citizens on a Friday night, I also got elected as organizer of the gear. It’s not a big deal, really, because I usually don’t have anywhere to be and I’ll even take a little extra time to swim some laps or jump off the high dive, but with Gabe here, I want to be dressed and away from the water.

My foot is on the bottom rung of the ladder when his wheels appear at face level.

“I want to go in.”

“What?” I look up at him and am shocked to see that he’s in black trunks and got his shirt off. God, his chest and arms are fucking amazing. He’s pasty white and it’s kind of weird to see him with chest hair, just because he always shaved it before, but his shoulders are broad and muscled and he is
strong
.

“So, you gonna help me out or are you going to gawk at my dead chicken legs some more?”

My eyes meet his. He really has no idea that he is just as good looking as he ever was. “It wasn’t your chicken legs I was gawking at.”

“Oh.”

I finish climbing out of the water and he backs his chair up so I can stand there dripping in front of him with my hands on my hips like I’m an expert in getting strapping young men whose legs don’t work into the pool unassisted.

“I totally want to help you, but I’m not sure how you’re going to get in? The battery on the lift is dead and it needs to charge overnight.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” he says, locking the brakes on his chair.

Gabe undoes the Velcro straps that are holding his legs in place and lets his legs fall open. He lifts them one at a time and puts the corresponding foot rest up, then sort of flops his legs in between the foot rests. Placing his hands on the sides of the seat toward the front, Gabe lifts his torso off the chair easily and lowers himself to the concrete floor of the pool deck. With a quick “jump,” his hands go from the chair to in front of him where he braces himself to keep from falling forward. Then it’s just a matter of moving his legs forward, then pulling his torso, and repeating until his legs are dangling over the edge of the pool. He walks down on his hands from the edge to the grated apron and sits, keeping his arms taut to hold himself upright.

“Can you get in and stand in front of me?” Gabe asks, turning his face to me slightly. “Just in case I lose my balance and fall on my face into the water and try to drown myself again.”

“Of course!” I go back down the ladder, not wanting to be the jackhole who simply jumps in the pool right after he’s gone through his multi-step entry.

I get in front of him and he puts his hands, first one then the other, on my shoulders.

“I’m not putting too much pressure on you?” Gabe asks.

I shake my head. “You’re fine. I can take it.”

Gabe leans forward and nothing happens. He chuckles. “I was kind of hoping gravity would work with me, but my legs appear to be stuck.”

Reaching out, I tuck my hands underneath his knees and take a step back, pulling him into the water. Immediately, Gabe’s fingers slip from my shoulders and he’s got me in a bear hug, hooking his hands back over my shoulder from behind. His face is jammed into mine, his nose in my cheek and his mouth against my chin.

“Smooooth,” he says, the vibration of his words against my skin giving me the giggles.

“Let’s get you a kickboard to free up both of our upper bodies, so I can help you with your lower bits.”

He snorts. “You did not just offer to help me with my lower bits.”

“I did. Deal with it, FFHC.” I slowly walk us over to where the kickboards are. “And, yeah, I shortened your long nickname down to an acronym, what of it?”

“Every time you open your mouth I just like you more, so could you shut the hell up please?” He clears his throat and I opt not to give a snappy comeback to that confession.

Gabe transfers himself to the kickboard. I’m surprised he’s not shakier, but his arm strength must just be phenomenal.

“All right,” I say, going into instructor mode. “I’m going to lift up your legs; they’re hanging there like dead weight.”

“Don’t sugarcoat it or anything,” he says, smirking.

From his right side I lift his legs at the knees and sort of guide him around the pool.

Gabe looks at me over his shoulder. “You’re not, like, making my feet paddle or anything in some weird hope that they’ll have muscle memory and a miracle will happen?”

I shake my head. “I’m specifically not doing that, because your ass is paralyzed and you’re never walking again.”

He smiles and then looks straight ahead. “Actually, I can mostly feel my ass.”

I pinch it. It’s going too far and it’s inappropriate and I do it anyway.

“God, you are so molestery, Dork Patrol. I’m gonna have to report you to the parks and rec board.”

“Uh huh,” I drawl. “You think challenging me is going to get me to do it again, don’t you?”

He looks at me over his shoulder. “I want to float on my back. Ready for me to flip?”

“I could get you some floaties for your le—”

“Go!”

Gabe rolls his upper body hard to the right, away from me, and his legs slip out of my grasp. The weight of them falling catches him off balance and he lets go of the kickboard. It pops out of the water as his upper body falls under.

That day at the Chandlers’ knees me in the gut and my body moves without hesitation. I’m down, underneath Gabe in an instant, looping my arm over his chest and under his chin. But this time he shrugs off my help and pushes himself to the surface with his arms.

I come up smiling at him treading water, but he’s not smiling back.

“What?” I ask, kind of knowing what but hoping I’m being extra sensitive.

“Did we test for lifeguarding at the same time or something and I don’t remember it?”

I should say yeah, that’s it.

“No,” I answer, unable to stand one more lie. “Why?”

Gabe shakes his head like he’s got water in his ears or he’s trying to jog his memory. “Weird. I just had some crazy déjà vu. Except the water was all murky and I could see your brown hair floating all around my head and feel your arm on my neck.”

I run my hand over my head, my hair tucked neatly under my swimming cap. “That is weird.”

“Wow,” he says, seeming to brush off the memory. “Treading water is a lot more tiring when you can’t use your legs.”

“You gonna let me help you now?” I ask, lunging toward the kickboard floating a few feet away.

“Yes, please.”

“No problem.” I give him the board and then man his legs, pushing him back to the pool edge.

“Maybe the stairs at the shallow end would work better for getting out?” he suggests.

I steer him to the wide steps. “Good call.”

Gabe ditches the kickboard a little more gracefully this time and then takes hold of the railing that halves the steps. He pulls his body out of the pool like this for as long as he can before switching to his hand walking, leg dragging method.

“Grab my chair for me, will ya?”

“Sure.” I walk past him and go to push his chair, but the brakes are on. “Uh, this thing no go.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “I think it’s rad that you’re even less mechanically inclined than I am.”

I roll my eyes at him. “I’m sure you do and I’m also sure you can sit over there for three hours or just tell me how to unlock the brakes.”

“Jeez! Touchy subject?”

“Obviously.”

“Push in and then pull up.”

I get them unlocked after a few tries and wheel the chair over to him.

“Can you help me get in?” He holds his arms out to me and I straddle his legs, squat down, and wrap my arms around his chest.

“Count of three?” I ask.

“One, two, three,” he counts off.

I hoist him up high enough for him to get his hands on the edge of his seat, but when I start to let go, the chair begins to roll backwards. Gabe’s eyes meet mine. “Brakes?” he says and then we’re falling and I’m sitting on top of him, his pelvis pushed right up against my crotch and things are decidedly
working
at this moment.

Gabe looks down between my legs. “More, or less embarrassing than when you grabbed my junk?”

I feel my nipples peak and make no effort to get off of him. Gabe’s gaze travels from where our bodies are touching to my mouth. I can feel the heat of his wanting me in that look and goosebumps break out all over me in a shiver of pleasure.

This is what it means to desire someone.

I forget all the rules I’m supposed to abide by, all the ‘no’s, all the why I ‘shouldn’t’s. I ignore the rough concrete of the pool deck digging into my knees. Gabe brushes the curled fingertips of his right hand lightly up my arm.

“Brynn?” he asks.

I lean over, placing my hands on either side of his head, and lower my mouth to his in answer.