“You just did, quite eloquently. If it helps, I find you butt ugly,” he said so seriously I couldn't help but gasp and start laughing.
“Butt ugly, huh? So these killer jeans and sexy red sweater, which I look fabulous in by the way, doesn't do anything for you?” I asked grinning.
“Nope. Would you like anything else to eat?” He asked changing the subject while I found myself almost fishing for a compliment from him.
“No, I'm good.”
“Who were you with Friday night?” He asked making my head spin again from another subject change.
“Oh, my brother, Steven. We were celebrating my first week of work.”
“Really? Do you always drink so much when you're with your brother?” He again asked way too seriously.
“If I feel like it, yes. Why? It's really none of your business how much I do or don't drink, is it?” I felt totally defensive of Steven as I tried to stare down Peter.
“No, it's not. I'm sorry. I just thought it was weird seeing you stumble down the street the way you were with him. It seemed so out of character for someone as self-possessed as you come across. I didn't take you for a get hammered on a Friday night kind of woman.”
“I'm not. But again, we were celebrating and we had fun, and I'll drink when I want to. How much did you drink with your sister that night?” Jesus, Peter made me feel like I was PMSing with my mood swings.
“I don't drink. So, none.”
“Never?”
“No... I don't like to feel out of control. Plus I was a sloppy drunk when I was younger. I wasn't able to stop before passing out or throwing up, which was a drag for my friends who had to carry me around or drop me off on my parent’s front steps. Once, I had this close call when my friends didn't know I had left a bar without them, until I walked home and tried to break into my neighbor's house to go to sleep. Incidentally, I was only 20, so I stopped drinking young enough to never be one of those 20-something idiots who always makes an ass of themselves when drinking with their buddies.”
“Do you have a drinking problem?”
“I don't think so. I'm just a sloppy drunk, so I don't drink, which doesn't really seem like a drinking problem. Does it?”
“I guess not. But does it bother you when other people drink?” I felt like I should understand this alcohol issue clearly before we continued.
“Not at all. I'm usually the designated driver, so I'm quite popular with my friends and sisters on the weekends,” he said smiling.
And for some reason I felt like I needed to justify my drinking to him. I wasn’t sure why, but I just blurted out, “I don't drink often, Peter. I only did this weekend for fun. I had a lot going on and I said hello and goodbye to many people this week, so I needed to let loose a little. But really, I don't drink often,” I said almost begging him to understand.
“It wouldn't matter if you did, I'd take care of you anyway.” Oh my god, he stunned me with that one sentence.
“Um... I don't need anyone to take care of me. But thanks.”
“Well, I would anyway. Do you want to go for a walk?”
“Okay...” I heard myself say through my muddled brain.
Once bundled up, we went for a walk together. I was lucky the sidewalks were nice and clear because though my leather boots were awesome to look at, they very much lacked any traction. But Peter seemed to sense I may land on my ass at any moment anyway, so he took my hand and pulled it through the crook of his arm, which was very sweet, and somewhat otherworldly for sure.
We walked down the main strip of the village with Peter explaining many of the pubs and restaurants beginnings and pasts. He had lived around the corner since he bought his house at 23, so he'd seen a few changes in the last 8 years.
Peter pointed out the flower shop with my blue roses, and he showed me a little dive, junk store which outside looked like a dumpster but inside had thousands of knick-knacks, collectible antiques, and trendy little pieces that I loved.
And within seconds of entering Pandora's I found an amazing set of candle holders I had to have. They were awesome blown glass male and female Art Deco-like candle holders with dark colors throughout. Peter even joked he wished he had seen them first so he could’ve snatched them up before I did.
After Pandora's we walked past the shops and landed at a little chocolatier as I died- absolutely died. Everything I could have ever imagined as chocolate they had. Everything…
Reserved, mature, professional Sophie left the building the second we walked in as I smiled. I was like a PMS to the extreme, hormonal basket case. Looking at every single shelf, opened and closed, I almost chose a hundred things to buy.
After the woman behind the counter offered me a piece of chocolate, I moaned out loud as I nodded I'd take it. Even when Peter looked at me with a funny grin, I didn't care what he thought because I was surrounded by chocolate. Special, beautiful, handmade chocolate.
When I finally came back down from my high I realized I had been staring at everything for so long, Peter was leaning against the wall near the door. Feeling totally embarrassed when he grinned at me, I finally just asked what the best was, and I was lead to the expensive section under the glass counter, where I found my ultimate- dark chocolate with sea salt, my absolute favorite.
Dark chocolate I loved, but with sea salt I was in heaven. Looking at the different weights, I finally just pointed out a friggin' slab. Like the whole slab. An awesome slab which totaled $80.00 dollars but I didn't care.
After the slab, I finally picked a box of hot chocolate packets and asked for 2 hot chocolates to go as Peter finally joined me at the counter offering to pay, which I vehemently declined. I lied and told him half the slab was a Christmas gift for my mother, and though I think he knew I was full of shit he didn't press me further, he just smirked at me.
Eventually walking out of the Chocolatier, I handed him his hot chocolate as he smiled at me like I was scary.
“Was I really that bad?” I couldn't help but ask giggling.
“Um, you were a little scary for sure. I thought it best to stay out of your way beside the door with easy access to the street should you start snarling or growling,” he said way too seriously as I laughed.
“I don't think I would have hurt you much, I promise. But you have no idea how delicious and awesome it feels savoring a piece of dark chocolate only to have a little salt granule crunch between your teeth. It is the best, most delicious experience ever,” I teased right back, leaning my head against his shoulder feeling so happy in that moment.
I was happy with my chocolate, of course. But I just felt happy. I felt like we had the best first date ever. Well, I hoped first date, because after my performance over the chocolate I may have scared him away forever.
But he smiled and wrapped one arm around my back, holding my chocolate slab and candle holder bags in the hand with his hot chocolate so he could hold me to his side.
When we made it back to Murphy's, Peter asked if he could walk me home, and I agreed. It was close to 4:00, my feet were killing me, I had laundry to do, and it was the best Sunday I had had in years.
We made small talk on the walk home, and I learned more and more about Peter. He told me about his job, and his family, where he went to school, and what he liked to do in his spare time, which was draw or prepare his herbal soaps and lotions.
I found out he went to art school but dropped out because he couldn't draw on command like the teachers required, so instead of continuing to struggle, he went to a trade school and his drawings became his passion instead of his career.
I found out so much in one day I felt like I was talking to a man I had known for years, as opposed to a man I had only spoken to for 4 hours.
When we eventually arrived at my place it was awkward though. I didn't want the day to end, but I didn't want to jump in bed with him either. I wasn't ready for him to leave me yet, but I didn’t know how to ask him to stay. I was happy and excited to know more about Peter. So when he nervo
usly asked if he could call me, I said yes.
Turning toward him I was going to give him my phone number but he said he already had it. But when I questioned how, he said simply, Caller ID.
“Then why didn't you call me all week?” I asked confused.
“You didn't give me your number on purpose, and you didn't say I could call,” he replied easily.
“Okay, well, you can call me,” I whispered finding myself standing closer to him than absolutely necessary.
Practically standing against him, Peter surprised me when he said quietly, “I’m going to kiss you tomorrow, Sophie, after we've had a chance to come down a little from this high. I really want to remember our first kiss, so I want to wait, okay?”
“Okay...” I whispered again.
Standing at my door I was becoming a total Barbie tart with Peter and I knew it. I wasn't sure how to change it as it happened though, but I was aware of my breathy, moany behavior and I really wanted to be embarrassed by my behavior. I wanted to pull myself together and act like the Sophie I knew, but I just couldn't. I was smitten and enthralled by the feeling of being with him.
Unbelievably, when Peter turned to leave me with a smile I wanted to beg him to come into my apartment anyway. I wanted to cook him dinner and share my favorite chocolate with him. I wanted to kiss him, and talk to him, and make him fall in love with me.
Jolting in the hallway, I remember stunning myself back to reality with that quick thought. Hiding my surprise at myself I smiled at Peter while opening my door as he walked away telling me he'd call me later.
Turning to lock my door behind me, I remember leaning against my closet thinking wow.
I was stunned by my behavior and thought processes, or lack thereof. I had spent 4 hours with some stranger and I was thinking about wanting him to fall in love with me. I was actually thinking like an idiot, destined for heartbreak.
Moving from the little doorway, I sat down on my couch and tried to think clearly. I knew I didn't make men fall in love with me. I never made anyone fall in love with me, nor did I give it a thought as it happened. If it happened and they weren't my forever I tried to stay and work at the relationship until it wasn’t working and then I moved on. I knew I didn’t force anything, but I felt like I kind of wanted to with Peter.
CHAPTER 7
I spoke to Peter later Sunday evening when he eventually called me. I waited for him to call, even though I was dying to call him. I waited because he said he would call, and I didn't want to look desperate if I called him first.
Settled in on my couch, Peter and I spoke for an hour and a half, learning more and more about each other. Actually, I learned more about him, only answering a few questions when they were posed to me because I was still nervous about giving away too much information about myself.
I wanted my privacy. Well, truthfully, I wanted to seem a little mysterious because I found myself wanting to play this relationship right. I wanted to be everything Peter wanted from a woman though we hadn't actually had that conversation yet.
Peter and I spoke on the phone until he absolutely had to leave for work he said with regret. I learned that his job was nightshift work, so he worked at night during the week, and slept in the days. But when I asked if he would be tired because he had spent the day with me instead of sleeping, he said no. Actually, what he said was, ‘I'm so happy that I spent the day with you, I'll be riding this high all night. So don't worry about me,’ and I smiled at his charming confession.
We eventually hung up at 9:00, and I was sad to end our amazing conversation. There was something about Peter that drew me to him. There was something so wonderful and calm about Peter that I felt excitement for the start of a potential relationship between us.
I was anxiously excited to speak to him again the next day while I finished my laundry, tidied my apartment and laid out my clothes for work.
I was excited when I showered and dressed for bed. And I was excited about Peter as I lay in my bed with a smile I couldn’t seem to get rid of, no matter how many times I called myself a loser.
*****
The following morning at 8:00am there was a knock on my door before I left for work. Unbelievably there was a knock, and I was both shocked and happy when it was Peter standing in the hallway.
Opening my door, I took him in with a huge smile. Waiting, Peter didn't speak and I couldn't move. We experienced one of those weird moments of complete solitude in our thoughts, together.
“I wanted to see you before you went to work. And I brought you a coffee,” he grinned.
“Thank you.”
“And it’s tomorrow,” he whispered as he leaned in close to me.
Suddenly kissing me, I remember thinking thank god I had already brushed my teeth and was already dressed for work, until I stopped thinking entirely. I didn't care that he was messing up my lipstick and I didn't care that I had to leave for work in 20 minutes. I just wanted Peter's kiss in that moment.
Kissing, I was swept up in him and his beautiful kiss. Peter had that slow, sexy kiss thing going for him. The kind that starts its own rhythm and ends with a moan for more. He held my head with one hand and my back with the other. He practically bent me while he opened me up for him until I was taken.
Peter kissed me for what felt like a lifetime. He kissed me and I was shocked to realize I wanted a forever with him in that moment.
When he finally pulled away, his thumb wiped the moisture from my lips and he actually sucked it off his thumb. Watching him, I felt something deep inside me, almost like a craving so intense, I wanted to push him against the wall and kiss him harder. I wanted more, but I didn’t take it. I let Peter lead our first kiss because it was his to lead.
“I should let you get to work,” he smiled again so sweetly I actually felt it in my heart.
“Thank you for the coffee,” I said without acknowledging the awesome kiss between us.
“I'll call you later, Sophie. Around 7:00. Will you be home?”
“Yes...” I moaned, thinking I'd make sure I was home at 7:00 just for his call.
“Have a good day, Soph,” he smiled again as he turned to walk away.
Watching him leave I looked at him realizing I desperately didn't want him to go. I actually felt such a strange pull toward him I wanted him to stay with me. I wanted to stay home with him all day. I wanted Peter in that moment more than I wanted my forever career. I wanted him so badly, I felt nearly insane for him as he slowly exited my building.
Running back into my place after he left I honestly felt like I must look different. I felt so different inside I couldn't believe as I stared in my bathroom mirror there weren't physical changes to my appearance. I was surprised that I still looked like Sophie Morley, just with slightly smeared lipstick around her mouth, and a huge stupid smile.
Leaving for work 10 minutes later, I ran for my car, nearly slid on the ice, laughed at myself, and hopped in for the 20 minute drive to work. I drove to work with a stupid smile, and with a giddiness I didn’t know I even possessed as I danced in my seat and sang along with the radio, badly.
When I arrived at work, I was still thinking about Peter and his kiss and I had to concentrate very hard on learning my new job from Carole all day. I was distracted way too often and it bothered me, even though I couldn’t seem to help the distraction I was suffering.
I wasn't the kind of woman who let a man distract her, and I wasn't the kind of woman who acted love struck and stupid. I never acted weak or simple, and I never acted giddy in a relationship- not that we were in one at that point, but probably. And that reality of a relationship, after only one day of knowing Peter scared the hell out of me.
Over lunch I analyzed the shit out of myself and realized I was acting like a psycho. Peter and I had had one date, one day together and I was thinking about our 'relationship'. I was obsessed with defining us, and I was desperate to have some kind of hold on him which was crazy. So I made myself chill out.
I decided
after my half hour lunch I would stop the bullshit obsessing, and I would focus on my job. I knew relationships always ended but my career had the potential to be forever, but only if I pulled my head out of my ass, which I eventually did.
The rest of the afternoon blurred into notes, multiple guesses about Carole's next move, and questions here and there. I stayed focused and alert about my job only, forcing Peter out of my mind all afternoon.
And by 4:30 I was spent again. Intellectually, I was totally drained which made me question whether this draining was going to always happen, or if it was merely because I was learning everything from scratch. I watched Carole seem to handle everything well, and I didn't feel inferior to her, just ignorant of the position and demands; therefore I convinced myself that I wouldn't always feel so tired at the end of the day once I was settled into a routine of my own.
When I returned home, changed into my grubby clothes and made myself pasta for dinner, I suddenly realized I hadn't received any roses all day. Not that I expected them, and not that the roses could continue indefinitely, but I did feel a little disappointed that the blue roses thing was over. I had enjoyed the attention a little because it let me know Peter was thinking about me throughout the day like I was thinking about him.
After dinner, I looked over my notes on the couch and admittedly, looked at the clock way too often. I was suffering that insane the clock has stopped moving phenomena all people experience when they're desperate for something to happen at a specific time. The hour between 6 and 7 absolutely crawled by as I anxiously waited to talk to Peter again. But he didn't call.
7:30 came and went, and so did 8:00. By 9:00, I was actually angry, and by 10:00 I felt sad. I knew I was feeling mental over Peter, and I didn't like it, so I went to sleep shortly after 10 instead of waiting any longer.
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