"Son, you make me a grandpa and I'll make you road kill," my dad threatens, followed by a light-hearted chuckle. I wave to my dad as I shove Patrick out the door before me and follow.
"He's…." I begin to explain after I close the door behind me.
"I got that," Patrick replies, knowing exactly what words I am getting at. Concerned, paranoid, excessively caring, a little bit crazy.
"So who did you steal the car from," I ask as we approach the old, beat up vehicle that occupies my driveway.
"The old guy down the street. I figured he wouldn't need it too much longer anyhow seeing that he could croak any day now. Not a horrible loss for him."
"Doesn't it reek of old people, though?"
"That's what air fresheners are for. I hope you like the smell of pine trees."
"Where did it really come from?"
"Well, I drove this car way back when I was first learning to drive. See, there's evidence of every accident I had during the process," He points to a particularly large dent toward the back end, "That one there is from backing up into a mailbox the very first time I drove the car."
"Yet women are the ones with the reputation for being dangerous drivers," I muse, "Are you sure I shouldn't drive?"
"That's very funny," he nods, "hilarious."
*************
As we pull into my driveway there is a comfortable silence hanging between us. I think we're both sad to see this date end. When the car stops I turn my gaze to Patrick but stay silent.
"You didn't try to jump out of the car while it was still in motion so I can only assume you had a somewhat enjoyable time," he says. I grin as I remove my seat belt.
"Well you didn't push me out of the moving car so I am assuming you had a decent time as well."
He smiles and silently examines me for a moment before speaking again, "You didn't expect me to go through all the trouble of getting your dad's permission, did you?"
"Considering you had met my dad before and knew what you would be getting into, I doubted it."
"Are you convinced yet?'
"Convinced of what?"
"That I'm not the enemy," he explains, "Kat, I know that according to gender stereotypes I am supposed to be less observant about your feelings than a damn rock, but I can see that something is holding you back; You're not allowing yourself to have full-out feelings for me. And I'm getting frustrated."
"Don't push this," I retort icily, offended by his frustration and the audacity he had to bring it up. Who is he to be upset about my inability to allow myself feelings for him when it is his actions that have caused me to worry, "Don't act like you're making it so easy for me to be comfortable with my feelings for you when you have proven several times over that nice moments don't guarantee that you won't find another girl to ride on the back of your bike tomorrow. Excuse me for trying to protect myself," I start to open the door only for Patrick to swiftly reach across me and slam it back shut.
"I'm aware that you always like to have the last word, but I wasn't quite done yet," he snaps. I'm so stunned by the tone he is using with me that I don't make another move for the door, "You know damn well that this sort of date isn't a normal occurrence for me. It's a bit out of my range. So the fact that I agreed to something like this should give you some idea of how dedicated I am to what we have here. Maybe acknowledge that and show a bit of appreciation."
"What do we have here?" I inquire quietly. He turns his gaze downward for a moment and I am shocked to see a hint of vulnerability.
"I want to do this again…minus the ending argument," there's an apologetic tone to the latter part.
"That makes two of us."
