Old Enough to Know Better
“. . or as if he was waiting for her, she thought fleetingly, dismissing the idea immediately as ridiculous.“Have you had anything to drink, Catherine? Do you need a ride home?” he asked solicitously, although she sensed an underlying note in his tone that she refused to acknowledge, preferring, instead, to fly by him with a fake smile plastered on her face.“No, thank you, I rarely drink anymore.” She flashed him what she hoped was a sufficiently pleasant smile, wrapped her coat around her, an...d ducked out the door. She knew she should have exchanged more pleasantries, she knew she was acting like an idiot in just needing to get out of that place, and frankly, to get away from a young man who hadn’t said or done anything that wasn’t simply kind and thoughtful towards her.But he put her on edge, somehow, made her aware of herself in a way she hadn’t been in a while, and she didn’t like it. Not at all. Nope. Didn’t like it. Not in the least. Not her. She refused to examine why her heart was beating so quickly, and her palms – and other areas of her person – were growing moist – and she was panting slightly.But she definitely didn’t like the way he made her feel. Definitely.It was strange to hear him call her by her first name. Her friends were relatively strict, old fashioned parents, and their children never called their parents’ friends by their first names, ever.MoreLess
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