" Do you want me to come in with you? Arry regards me with scrutiny, standing in the street outside the old-fashioned brick building and I blink up at him with a serious frown. Stomach in knots."
" You re kidding right? What, like you re my dad and this is kindergarten? I resist the urge to fan my face for the third time, push down the nausea and nerves and refrain from shoving Arry s fussing hands off me. He s fixing my jacket for the second time in five minutes, and even though it s endearing, it s making me feel antsy and agitated as he brushes a hair out of my face softly. I m terrified, anxiety on overdrive and he is being infuriatingly cool about all of this, if not a little anally handsy. He can be so much like his mother at times, a clucking hen fussing around me when w
