Lost

by Sarah Ann Walker

  It was so natural and beautiful between us as we spoke, the hours seemed to fade away. I actually found it kind of soul-consuming the ease and comfort I gained from Peter’s calm when we were together.

  “I want to sleep with you,” Peter suddenly whispered while kissing my hand.

  “Okay...” I answered a little too breathy as I unconsciously moved my butt suggestively against him.

  “Um, just to sleep, Sophie. I want to sleep beside you and wake up beside you in the morning.” And though he spoke softly, I was totally embarrassed by my assumption as I blushed and had to look away from him before he saw my humiliation.

  Without a doubt, Peter threw me off. I didn't understand Peter like I did everyone else. It was unnerving and even frustrating not being able to figure him out easily. So when he pulled at my hand and said 'Hey...' I had a hard time looking back at him.

  Something about my humiliation made me almost cry. I think if I had been alone, or talking to him over the phone, I would have cried. But I wasn't alone, and I wasn’t going to further compound my stupidity and embarrassment by crying in front of him, as well.

  “Sophie... I want to have sex with you, just not yet. I like where we're headed and I don't want to rush it with nervousness and the potential insecurity of first time sex.”

  “I don't want to sleep with you, either,” I blurted out sounding ridiculously defensive.

  “Sophie, please. Trust me I want to sleep with you, but I've done the have sex quickly thing, and the relationship always ended after the sex was used up. Once the infatuation was over, I realized I didn't really feel anything for my partners, or not enough to form a lasting relationship. And I don't want to do that with you.”

  Listening to Peter I realized how thoughtful and mature he was. He always said everything right, and I hated it. When Peter spoke I felt almost a step behind him emotionally. Everything he said was true, I knew that. But I hated that it was him who said it because I looked like a horny teenager, while he looked like a mature adult. I hated feeling like an ass around him, which I felt like I did frequently.

  “It's fine Peter. Everything you said makes perfect sense. Can we just drop it? I'm fine,” I said again sounding defensive.

  “Sophie, how many men have you slept with? And how many of them meant something to you?”

  “How many woman have you slept with?” I countered.

  “16, I believe. And when you take out Patricia and the one before her, that's only 14 woman in the last 8 years. A fairly conservative number- slightly less than 2 women a year, approximately,” I could see him grin as he pulled me back down and leaned over me.

  “And how many of them meant something to you?” I asked dying to know.

  “Maybe 6 or 7, but to varying degrees of course. There were women I thought I cared for, and there were woman I wanted to care for but didn't. I was never an asshole though, and I've only had 2 one night stands, so really my number is more like 14 overall and 12 without Patricia and Mandy before her. So now my number seems more like 12 in 8 years which really equals 1.5 women a year. Not bad, huh?” He teased.

  “No, not bad by guy standards, I guess. I know my brother sleeps with dozens of women each year, so yes, your number seems fairly conservative,” I admitted on an exhale.

  Why I felt so tense about our conversation, I couldn't explain, other than I was feeling a type of jealous nervousness or something. I don't know exactly what I felt though because I had never felt jealousy before in my life.

  “So...? What about you? How many men do I have to compete with?” Peter grinned.

  But for some reason I didn't want to answer Peter's question. Not that I had anything to be ashamed of, far from it actually. I just knew he would have follow up questions, and I didn't really feel like getting into my past relationships with him in case he learned more about me than I was ready to give.

  “Wow. That many?” He teased.

  “No. Only 3 and a half,” I admitted.

  “Please explain the half first,” he grinned again.

  “Um, he was between 2 and 3, and we knew each other, but we weren't together, so it was kind of a one night stand, but not really, because he tried to date me before and afterward.”

  “But the 'half'?”

  “Well, I’d been drinking a little, so I was sober enough to know what I was doing, yet tipsy enough to not care at the time. Afterward, I left right away instead of suffering the walk of shame the next morning. And as I said, he wanted more but I didn't. So yes, I slept with him, but it's more like a half because it was so different from my other relationships and not like me at all,” I exhaled knowing even justified it still sounded ridiculously one night standish.

  “And the 3 who mattered?”

  “I'm not sure what you want me to say. Like details? A relationship synopsis? The whole story? The short version?” I sat up away from his arms, leaning against his thighs in the middle of the couch.

  I couldn't explain why the conversation bothered me. Actually, I had NO idea why it bothered me. I knew I had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, but retelling of my relationships scared me with Peter. I think I was a little afraid he wouldn't like me anymore if he knew I had had a life before him. Or maybe he'd judge me, or I don't know... something. I just felt closed off and less comfortable with him suddenly.

  “Why do you seem so tense right now? I won't judge you Sophie, if that's what you're thinking. Are you in a relationship right now that you're hiding from me?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “I didn't think so. So why should your past matter to me?”

  “Exactly. Why does it matter to you?” I questioned defensively again.

  “It doesn't matter. But I would like to know about you, and that includes the people you've been in relationships with. I want to know what turns you on, and what makes you run away. I certainly don't want, or even need sexual details, but I'd love an overview of what made you happy with them.”

  Exhaling, I decided to confess. “Um… Well, I left them all, which either says something good or bad about me... usually, I think good. First there was Darren my high school sweetheart, but I broke up with him when I eventually realized he wasn't strong enough for me. Then there was Derek, my boyfriend in University who didn't feel motivated enough in life, so also not motivated enough for me. And then there was Joseph who was much older and-”

  “How much older?” He interrupted.

  “20 years exactly.”

  “Wow, good for him. A hot young blonde girlfriend,” he smiled.

  “No, Joseph wasn't like that. He was calm and cool, and not about appearances. He just loved me because we were companionable. I didn't require much looking after so we were both happy, until I realized he was too comfortable, and I would go without if I stayed any longer. But when we broke up as friends a few months ago, we stayed friends. He actually sent me that Christmas card,” I said pointing to the mantel with cards. “So that's it. My 3 men in a nutshell.”

  “Do you realize I said I wanted to know what made you happy with them, and you could only tell me why you left them?”

  “Well, I think that's the way it usually is, right? By the end of a relationship the bad always overshadows the good you may have had, otherwise you would stay together.”

  “You're right. But I would like to know how they made you happy. Maybe you'll tell me one day?”

  “Maybe...” I said looking behind me at the clock.

  I think I was suddenly suffering my fight or flight, which usually meant flee. I didn't like to talk about my past, and I rarely divulged personal information, both of which Peter had pulled out of me, however few details that was. So pausing to ground myself I suddenly felt drained.

  “Are you tired, Sophie?”

  “Yes...”

  “May I spend the night with you?”

  “Yes...”

  “Good. I didn't sleep off my night shift last night so I'm fairly tired myself. Do you have a toothbrush I
could use?”

  “Sure. I buy my brother a new one almost monthly, so I think there's a packaged green one under the sink.”

  “Thanks. I'll meet you back here?” He smiled with his hand on my back.

  “Okay,” I agreed jumping up nearly running for my bedroom, which thankfully was perfectly tidy.

  Undressing and dressing quickly, I found my 2 piece stars and moons pj bottoms with matching tank top. Throwing them on, I knew I looked comfy without trying for sexy, but the shelf bra in the tank made my boobs look great and kept them where they should be while sleeping, which was a relief.

  After Peter exited the bathroom, he checked me out from head to toe then kissed my lips before I could use the washroom myself. Smiling at him as he pulled away, I left him for my own teeth brushing and anti-sex pep talk before walking into my room and calling him to follow me as I stood against the wall.

  Standing in my room as Peter joined me was awkward, I remember that. It was awkward the moment Peter walked into my bedroom, looked around, then paused like he didn't know how to get into my bed.

  “Where do you usually sleep?” He spoke softly.

  “Right on this side, facing out, so I think I'll be able to see and prevent an intruder before he kills me,” I said laughing at myself.

  “Okay, then. I'll be against the wall so you can get the intruder for me,” he replied pulling my comforter down and sliding into my bed against the far wall.

  Looking at Peter as he lay down, I was suddenly struck with almost a pain in my chest. There was something about that moment with him, something so promising and hopeful, I found myself feeling emotional. I couldn't explain it, and I actually hated the feeling in my chest. But it was there anyway, nearly bringing me to tears.

  “Come here, Sophie,” Peter whispered on his side with his arms open, and I did.

  Sliding in next to him, I let him pull me into his arms while he spooned me warm. Kissing my neck gently, Peter whispered in my ear, “What do you want, Sophie?”

  And before I could stop myself, I whispered back, “To be adored...”

  After my words, I was glad he didn't acknowledge what I said, and I was relieved he didn't throw out some meaningless words. We were too new to feel that intensely for each other, but my statement hung in the air around us, even as Peter wrapped his arms tighter around me, resting against my back in silence.

  In our silence, I realized that was exactly what I wanted, and what I’d been missing in my life. I had been loved and cared for, and I had created situations filled with love and acceptance. I had people respect and love me since I could remember, even as a child. But I had never felt adored.

  In our silence I realized that is what I had been looking for my whole life- the man who would adore me.

  CHAPTER 9

  When I woke up the next morning I was hot as hell. Actually, I was nearly suffocating with Peter wrapped all over me. His face was in my neck, and I was leaning on my side with one of his thighs under my back and the other leg thrown over me. I had his arm wrapped around my chest and I was so uncomfortable and overheated, I almost panicked.

  Pushing Peter off me while trying to edge out from under his leg proved a challenge though. For an average sized man he held me in almost a death grip. Pushing again, I moved my head to look at his face and that's when I saw him smiling at me.

  “Jesus! You're so friggin hot. Would you mind getting off me,” I asked with a huff making Peter laugh at me as I continued to push at him. “If you ever sleep over again, remind me to open the window, even in the dead of winter, okay?”

  “Yup, I'll remind you when I sleep over again. Even in a blizzard,” he again laughed at me and my distress.

  Sitting up, I remember having to wipe my brow of my matted down sweaty hair, while glaring at him. “When you sleep over again?”

  “Yup. When. So what do you want to do this morning?” He asked looking at the clock.

  “Well, I'm going to have a cold shower to lower my core body temperature to acceptable levels, then I think coffee to start.”

  “How about I rinse off quick then go get us coffee while you shower? Sound good?”

  “That sounds excellent. But would you mind getting me a French vanilla with a shot of chocolate? I like to start my weekends off with a little chocolate,” I said grinning.

  “No problem. Just give me a minute,” he replied while fighting his way out of the sheets and blankets he had nearly destroyed in the night.

  Watching him walk out of my room to the bathroom, I was again taken by surprise by the complete comfort I felt with him in my home. He was in my home which wasn't typically something I did, and I was okay with it. Actually, the more I thought about it I realized I was usually the visitor in my relationships.

  I had moved in with Derek and Joseph when they asked me to, and before we lived together I rarely had them sleep in my own place because I liked my space to remain mine. Thinking about Peter made me suddenly realize I think I always believed it was easier to leave them when I could do the leaving, rather than forcing them to leave me when I left.

  After Peter's shower, he redressed in his cargo pants, awesome black sweater, and kissed me on the lips before leaving my room and heading out my front door for coffee, just before I jumped in the shower, shaved quickly and washed and conditioned my hair even quicker.

  In the shower I found myself obsessing over all things Peter. From the way he slept practically on top of me, to his complete ease and security of speech when we debated, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I just couldn’t get over how amazing he seemed.

  Actually, I suddenly found myself wondering why he wasn't married already with 2 kids and a beautiful wife, which totally stressed me out. So I decided in the shower I had enough insecurity regarding Peter at that moment and I'd let that one go.

  After my shower, when I practically ran for my bedroom in a towel to change, I dressed for comfort, but attractively. I didn't know what our day was going to be like, but I liked the thought of spending it with Peter.

  Once dressed, with my hair dried I made my way to the living room and Peter. Sitting on my couch with his feet hanging over the edge of my coffee table, he was sipping his coffee looking way too good in my home.

  “I'm never going to be able to hear this song again without thinking of you,” he absently breathed into the room. So listening, I realized it was Green Eyes by Coldplay.

  “I really do have blue eyes, Peter.”

  “You really don't, Sophie. Blue may be the dominant shade, but your eyes really do highlight as green, especially with all the amber within your irises. I'm going to take a picture of your eyes and show you just how green they look in certain lighting.”

  “Okay,” I agreed sitting down beside him as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder.

  “I bought you your French vanilla with 2 shots of chocolate to really put you in a good mood,” he teased.

  “Thank you, but I'm in a pretty good mood without the chocolate,” I whispered.

  “Me too... I enjoy being with you. I just wish you relaxed a little more with me. You're so guarded sometimes, it's almost painful to watch,” he said as he kissed my head.

  “I...” But I faltered.

  “It's okay. I'll show you I'm a good guy and then you can drop your guard a little. I have to keep reminding myself that we've really only known each other for the last 6 days. It's hard because I feel good when I'm with you, and I feel like I've known you for so long, our actual time together seems to surprise me.”

  “Me, too. I was thinking earlier that I liked having you in my home. Or more like I'm okay with it, and that's not usually the case. I kind of like having my space and solitude in my own apart-”

  “Soph! Sophie, open up!” I jumped when I suddenly heard Steven at my door.

  “Holy shit! It's my brother!” I yelled in a weird panic as Peter sat up straighter.

  “Sophie... We're having coffee on a Saturday morning, totally clothed,” he gr
inned.

  Knowing I looked like an immature idiot by my behavior, I calmed down and smiled at my stupidity, even though it did feel like we were doing much more together. We were physically clothed and decent, but our closeness seemed to suggest a kind of intimacy I didn't want Steven to see yet.

  “Just give me a second to get rid of him,” I said as I hopped off the couch for the door.

  Throwing it open, I looked at a hammered Steven. Shit! 9:30 and he was still piss drunk.

  “Sophie... I met the girl I'm going to marry. Well, probably not marry because she slept with me like 10 minutes after meeting me, but she was awesome. So if I was going to get married it would be to someone like her, but not as easy. I need to crash before I drive home, ’cause I think my car’s down the street. Why am I always in the village now since you moved in?” He babbled.

  “Steven... I have company,” I pleaded quietly.

  “Really? Who? The creepy notebook guy?” Steven asked trying to look around me, but Peter beat him to it.

  “Hi Steven, I'm Peter- the creepy notebook guy,” he said with a smile though I could tell he was annoyed. I barely knew Peter, but I had heard that slightly clipped tone before, coincidentally, when he discussed seeing me drunk with my brother the previous Friday, which was a total oh shit moment if ever there was one.

  “Hey, Peter, the picture you drew of Sophie was awesome. She looked beautiful,” Steven stammered while leaning against the doorway.

  Flinching, I could almost feel the heat coming off Peter at the mention of the drawing.

  “Would you like to come in?” Peter asked.

  “Nah... I better go. I'll just call a cab. I was drinking with Heather until like 6:30 this morning, I think.”

  “I'll give you a lift home, if you need?” Peter offered.

  “Really?”