Read Diving In (Open Door Love Story) for Free Online Page B

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,