She begins to take him around the house and he notices that everything is incredibly pink. The wallpaper, the throws and cushions on the sofa. Even the kitchen towels and picture frames of past members.
It’s like he’s in Barbie’s dream house.
“Sorry that the house is a bit crazy. The girls are really into the feminine touch. And they really like pink.”
“Yeah, I noticed.”
She laughs and takes him upstairs.
“This is my room.” She says, opening a door.
This room isn’t anything like the rest of the house. It’s tidy, but not scrupulously so. It’s randomly organised and there’s barely a touch of pink at all.
There’s so much about her that I can’t wait to learn.
CHAPTER 05
I’m in my house on the coast of LA, lounging on the balcony with Jules, while my mom and dad are taking care of Sophia downstairs.
“Thank you for all this, Bell.” Jules says, as she takes a sip of her cocktail.
“Don’t thank me, Julianna. You deserve this. We all do. I’m just glad that I have been able to give you and Sophia the life you deserve. And my parents… I’m glad that I can support them after everything they’ve ever done.” I tell her. “I love you guys so much.”
“And I love you, Isobel. Sophia is such a lucky girl, to have someone like you as her aunt.”
“And Peter is going to make such a good uncle one day.”
Julianna laughs and nods. She picks up a book and begins to read as I take my brand-new phone and text Peter.
Come outside. It’s such a lovely day.
Peter appears in front of me, as though I have just magically conjured him up. He wears cut off jean shorts and a colourful tank top.
“Isobel. I’m just going to make you breakfast, OK? Come find me when you wake up.” He smiles at her and walks back into the house.
Find him when I wake up? What is he talking about?
Isobel shakes her head, expelling that random occurrence. She stands up and walks to the balcony wall, looking down on the ocean and thinking about her life. It’s so weird to think that just yesterday she went to sleep in her college house with Peter by her side and now she’s here.
How this transformation happened is inexplicable, but it just feels right somehow. It feels like everything I’ve ever wanted. A safe place for Sophia to grow up, a place for Jules to relax and not worry so much about their future. A home for my parents, who have wanted nothing more than for me to be happy, and now it’s my turn to look after them.
Everything is just perfect now, and I wish it would never end, but something about it feels weird. It’s got that tinge where it feels temporary, as though everything will fall apart at the drop of a hat, but I’m not ready for that. I want it to last forever. I need it to.
“Isobel?” Sophia has made it up the stairs, followed by my parents.
Jules stands up, joins them by the door and they all start at me.
“What?” I ask, feeling nervous.
“It’s coming to an end.” They all speak in unison and it sends shivers across my body. “Good things will come, but this must end.”
I sit upright in my bed, breathing heavily as my mind swims with sleep. The remnants of panic seep out of me and I lay back down, cuddling a pillow to my stomach.
What an odd dream.
I try to remember the exact details, but I can only concoct vague images. Me and Jules lounging, Sophia with my parents, Peter…
I turn over in my bed and realise that he’s not there anymore. I feel a panic setting in as I worry that he’s gone and won’t ever come back.
What if he got sick of my game and doesn’t want to play anymore? What if he’s bored of me now and will move on to the next girl?
Don’t think like that. He’s not that kind of guy.
I immediately feel bad for thinking so low of him, and apologise to him mentally. Maybe he just had to go home early. He mentioned that his parents were visiting, so maybe that’s what it is. He might text me later to apologise, and I’ll be worrying for no reason.
Unfortunately, my brain doesn’t always think about the more logical ideas. It prefers to stew in the worst possible scenarios. Maybe he didn’t enjoy himself last night and he regrets even starting this up. Maybe he’s just decided that he can do better.
It’s not like you can do much worse. Yes, I’m fairly pretty, but I’m also poor. I’m living in a sorority, and sorority girls do not get the best reputation, even though what my girls get up to is far less extreme than what the frat houses do. Double standards are a bitch.
His parents gave him everything, showered him with luxury and they pay for his tuition and his living. He probably doesn’t see himself in a life where he is with someone who isn’t part of that lifestyle.
Stop it! I chastise myself. You’re just turning him into a monster, now.
I let myself feel guilty.
No, he’s probably had to go home for some very legitimate reason. I really need to reign my thoughts in.
I swing my legs out of the bed and quickly clean up in the bathroom before pulling some clothes on. I look around my room, missing the mess I normally allowed myself to live in. I’d purposefully tidied up because I knew I was going to invite Peter over. I didn’t want him to think I was a slob, not that he would have much room to judge, since his room was a mess, too.
I quickly pick my way around the room, throwing dirty clothes in the hamper and making my bed slowly.
I keep trying to remove thoughts of abandonment from my mind, but they worm their way back in and attack my attempts of optimism.
I give my room one last look, and then begin making my way downstairs. The closer I get to the bottom, the stronger the smell of cooking becomes.
I wonder if one of the girls has returned early, maybe they ran out of their trust fund money, but instead, I find Peter stood over the oven, wearing his clothes from last night and an apron that says, ‘kiss the chef’.
He looks up and smiles, and inclines his head towards the frying pan.
“I hope you like eggs and bacon, otherwise I’m wasting some perfectly good food here.”
I’m so shocked that he’s still here that I can’t even think straight.
“You didn’t leave me.” I say, rubbing sleep from my eyes.
Gives me a strange look, and I don’t know what to make of it. He’s not angry, but rather, confused.
“Of course, I didn’t. I’m making breakfast, not an escape act.”
I laugh, and I don’t know if I found his joke funny or whether I’m simply relieved that he’s stood there, in all his awkward glory.
I move over to his side and look into the pan. I feel his lips touch the top of my head, even though I’m nervous that my hair is a little greasy. He wraps one arm around the waist while the other holds the spatula that he’s using to flip the food.
“Did you sleep OK?” I ask, putting my own arms around him.
He feels so safe and soft. I never want to let go of him.
“I slept fine. You have a very comfortable bed.”
I shrug, not really certain what I’m supposed to say in response to that. I break away from our embrace and bring some plates from the cupboard. I quickly set the table and put the coffee pot on.
“Would you like coffee or orange juice?” I ask, as I pull a mug from the cupboard.
“Both.”
“Can you say something other than ‘both’ because ‘both’ doesn’t help me decide what drink to give you.” I ask, jokingly.
“Sorry, fair maiden. Coffee would be delightful.”
“Excellent.”
Peter shovels the food onto the plates and I pour two cups of coffee.
We both sit down opposite each other and I feel strangely nervous, as if we’re both gawky teenagers with no experience of the opposite sex. I start to cut into my food, hoping eating will ease the silence that’s grown between us like a barrier. From the look on his face, I
can tell that he feels just as uncomfortable as I, but I don’t know how to fix it. Where did this awkwardness come from? Oh, god, save me before I cringe into nonexistence.
I’m beginning to lose hope. I’m convinced this is the end. My autopsy report will read ‘death by awks’ and I’ll never get to see if we were destined to be awkward together forever.
Suddenly, Peter gasps as a drop of the egg yolk lands on his shirt and slides down, staining a line of yellow.
He looks down in horror and then back up at me and I can feel my lip quivering. I don’t want to laugh at his misfortune, but I can’t think of anything else to do.
“Well, that’s just excellent.” He says, a forced look of seriousness on his face.
I can’t help but laugh and he looks at me with mock sadness.
“Do you think this is a yolk?” He asks, as he walks to the sink and picks up a cloth.
Still laughing, I take the cloth from his hands and bring to wipe his shirt down.
“This isn’t funny, you know. This is my favorite shirt.”
“Shame, because you’re going to have to take it off.” I whisper, as I lean into his lean body.
His puns stop and his eyes meet mine.
I feel a blazing fire staring back at me and electricity crackles around us. I begin to unbutton his shirt and he runs his fingers from the hem of my shorts to the edge of my rib cage. Usually it would tickle, but not today. Today it feels…
Electric.
I pull his shirt from his body, unveiling a modest chest and vaguely filled out stomach. He might not be a body builder, but I think he’s beautiful. His arms wrap around me and lifts me so that my legs wrap around his waist. I lean down and we start to kiss, a furious fight between our lips as he carries me to the bathroom and closes the door behind himself.
I want to ask why, since the house is completely empty except for us, but it doesn’t feel like the time for questions right now.
His bare chest holds me against the door as he lifts my shirt over my head and begins to undo my bra. I unwrap my legs and slide down to the floor, unbuckling his belt as I go.
We continue to undress each other until we both stand, panting and completely naked.
I’m trying to be the new Isobel, but I don’t know how to do that. I’m painfully awkward and unsure of who I am. I shrink into my body, suddenly wishing I had my clothes back on, but before I have the chance, Peter switches the shower on, looks me dead in the eye and whispers;
“You’re a dirty girl, Isobel.”
I stare at him, not sure whether he’s joking or trying to turn me on, and honestly? It’s a little bit of both.
He cracks a smile, and picks me up, climbing into the shower with me. I didn’t realize how strong he was until now. I’m pleasantly impressed by him. He sets my feet onto the ground and he laughs as the water pours over our heads and drags his hair over his eyes.
I reach up to move it out of the way and then use that opportunity to start kissing him again. I have a sneaking suspicious that this looks way hotter than it feels.
The shower is uncomfortable warm, and it’s causing steam to rise from our bodies. The water has plastered my hair to my back and his to his face. I’m sure that with the steam, it looks really sexy, but I’m afraid to tell you that it’s not sexy at all.
In fact, it’s hella uncomfortable. I want to turn the temperature down when I notice red blotches appearing over Peter’s skin and I’m worried that she’s not complaining because he doesn’t want to ruin a vibe that isn’t here.
I laugh at the absurdity of it all and he looks shocked. I turn the temperature down and then decide to just switch it off completely.
Peter tries for a look of confused sadness, but I can see the relief in his eyes. I bite my lip and pull him out of the shower with me. I give him a towel and I wrap one around myself and my hair. I take his hand and pull him upstairs and into my room.
I climb into my bed, still wrapped in the towel and he seems reluctant to join me.
“Come on.” I say, throwing the covers half open.
He gives me an odd look and smirks.
“You or the bed?”
I roll my eyes and he laughs at his own disgusting joke, before joining me in the bed. I roll onto my side, putting my arms on his chest and dancing my fingers across his delicate collar bones. He pulls the towel from my body with such force that I accidentally land on top of him. He grins at me playfully and grabs my wrists and turns me over so that I’m on my back.
I suck in an air of surprise as he throws the covers over his head and he disappears under them.
He spreads my legs apart and dives in, doing things with his tongue that I’ve never experienced before. I would have never thought it, just from looking at him, but the boy has moves!
I begin to shake uncontrollably, and I have to press a pillow over my face to stop myself from making too much noise, even though there is nobody in the house to complain.
I come to an incredibly orgasm and he appears, his face shining with perspiration, and a proud smile playing at his perfect lips. He hovers above me, and then swoops down to kiss me. We roll around in the bed until I decide that it’s time to return the favor. I throw the blanket over myself and slide down until my mouth is by his extremities.
I proceed to give him the best blowjob I can, and from the sounds I hear on the other side of the blanket, I feel rather confident that I’ve done a rather good job.
We both fall back onto the bed, smiling stupidly and melting comfortably into each other’s skin.
“That was… new.” I breathe, not sure what else to say.
Considering how awkward I felt earlier, I suddenly feel very content. I feel as though we’ve known each other for years. I feel like there is nothing I could do around him that would make me feel embarrassed, like I used to in the past. Hell, taking my clothes off in front of a man was hard enough. With peter, in this very moment, it doesn’t matter if we’re wearing clothes or not. It feels completely natural.
“You can say that again.” Peter says as he runs his fingers through my still damp hair.
“I’m not a fan of repeating myself.”
He laughs and I lay my head on his head as it rises and falls. I listen as he takes a breath and releases it. It makes me feel like I’m a part of him. As if we’re one being, rather than two completely different people living completely different lives.
It’s an amazing feeling and I hope it never ends. I want to feel this until the day I die.
I can feel my eyelids dropping when his phone vibrates on the bedside table, and the noise makes me jump.
“Oh god, it’s my mom. I need to go home.” Peter says as he climbs from the bed and starts pulling on his clothes.
I pull the duvet up around me and pout without meaning to.
He looks back at me and I can see that he wants to come back as much as I want him to.
He pulls his egg stained shirt back on and kneels by the side of the bed. He cups my chins and pulls me in for a kiss.
“Come to mine for dinner tonight?” He asks, as he rubs my arm with his hand. “Please?”
“Yeah, Ok.” I shiver as his hand leaves my arm, and I feel a cold settle over my body.
“Be there at seven. You can meet my mom.”
I nod, not sure what else to say. My mind is fuzzy with thoughts of him holding me. I don’t want him to leave. I don’t want to wait eight hours until I see him again. I don’t know if my body can take that trauma.
“I… um, I’ll see you later, ok?” Peter picks up his wallet and backs out of the room.
I know he wants to come back. I know he’s feeling the pain of separation as much as I am. But he leaves. He gives me a pained smile and disappears from view.
I collapse onto my bed when I hear the front door close and I resign myself to being alone again.
My limbs all feel heavy and my eyelids flutter closed. I feel really tired, as if I didn’t get any sleep last night, but I’m cer
tain that I did. I think that Peter has just taken all of my energy.
I let myself go to sleep and I dream of Peter with his hands exploring my body and mine on his.
When I wake up two hours later, I feel better rested, but the longing I feel to have Peter by my side hasn’t eased at all. I decide that it’s time to get out of bed and do something productive with my day before I go to Peter’s.
I grab my phone from under the pillow and find an unread text from Annabelle.
Unexpected Lover: College Romance Book 1 Page 8