A tap on her shoulder made her jump, and she turned to see Theo smiling at her. “May I have the honor of driving you home, Ann?” he asked.
She looked down, feeling extremely shy suddenly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the dancers go whirling by her. It felt like everything was whirling by her, and suddenly she felt irritated, almost angry at everyone planning her life, changing her plans for her.
“Or would you rather dance?” he asked.
“Well, my shoes are too wet for dancing,” she said, “And the least you can do is drive me home, and . . . explain some things,” she continued, straightening her shoulders, and picking up her bundle of wet clothes.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said mockingly.
“You know how I feel about being ‘ma-am’-ed,” she said, mock severely. “If you’re going to be that way, you can carry my wet dress,” she said, and thrust it at him.
He took it gingerly, and watched the water drip out from the hem of her dress. “I didn’t realize just how badly I had gotten you,” he said.
“Yes, you did,” she said. Then she picked up her heavy shawl, wrapped around her shoulders, and looked at the door.
“You aren’t going to make this easy, are you?” Theo asked her, his tone echoing the tone he had used on her so many times when they fought as children.
“Never,” she said.
“Well, at least never and always are somewhat related,” he said, with a smile, as he opened the door for her.
“They are opposites.”
“They both imply eternity.”
She didn’t say anything else, feeling as if she had been pulled out of her depth again, by his sincere tone.