“God, it’s about time.” I say, moodily.
“Babes, I’m glad you’re getting out and about while you’re there alone. Please be safe. Keep me updated on the situation. Life out here is great. Got my tan going and I’ve barely spent a minute sober! I’ll bring you back something lovely.”
Something about the text makes me feel like I shouldn’t text back, but I can’t help myself. I want her to know that I’m having as much fun home, alone as she is out there, enjoying spring break.
“So, we went on a proper date last night and it was great. He took me to stargaze in an old attic room. This morning, he made me breakfast and then we had the greatest non-sex ever. I’m meeting his parents tonight. Can’t wait.”
I hit send and then go to the bathroom to take a proper shower. As I scrub at my skin, I think about his touch. I lose myself in the moment, thinking about his lips and his voice. I imagine that he’s with me, running his hands through my hair and pulling me close to him.
I wish he didn’t have to go home. It feels ridiculous that I miss him so much, even though I barely know him. I wonder if this is what love feels like, but that’s even more ridiculous than missing him.
You can’t love someone you’ve only known for two days.
Can you?
I dry myself off and put my hair up in a towel, feeling too light headed to put any real effort into it just yet.
I sit at my desk and half-heartedly pull a book towards me, thinking I should really make an effort to get some studying in, since I have mostly avoided it for the last few days.
I’m about four pages in before I realise that I’ve not even been taking in the words that I’ve been reading. My mind is still on Peter, even though my eyes are on the book.
I’m shaken out of my day dreams when my phone starts to ring. I hope that it’s Peter, but I’m not disappointed when I see that it’s Jules.
“Jules, I have so much to tell you.” I gush as I answer.
“Yeah? Is that why you’re not at work?”
I almost drop the phone in shock. I’ve never once missed work, let alone forgotten about it completely. I’m ashamed of myself for being so careless and confused at how I became so side-tracked.
“Oh my god, Jules. I completely forgot. I can’t believe this. Tell Mr. Jones I’m sorry and I’ll head down right now.” I stand up, ready to rush myself into some clothes when Jules stops me.
“No. Don’t worry about it. Mr. Jones placed a bet that you’d forget to come in, and he brought Jessica in to help pick up the slack.” Jules doesn’t sound angry, even though she has every right to be.
“I’m so sorry!” I whisper, feeling so ashamed of myself. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“I think I do.” Jules says, laughing loudly.
It takes a minute to fully grasp what she’s saying.
“You’re disgusting.” I say, unable to stop myself from giggling.
“Ok, now tell me about him. Tell me what happened, and make it snappy. I only have ten minutes left on my break.”
I take a deep breath before telling her everything that happened and even though I’m shocked that I’ve forgotten about work, I can’t stop myself from smiling.
“And it was just wonderful.” I finish, hugging my arm to my chest.
“Wow, Bell. It sounds as though you really like him.”
“I think… I think I do.” I admit.
“Well, Jones will be happy that you’ve at least missed work for a good reason.”
“How much did he bet against me?”
“Ten dollars. He was pretty certain that you’d be, uh, preoccupied.”
“How does he always know?”
“I’m convinced that he’s psychic.”
They both laugh and the Jules says that she’s sorry, but her break is over.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, OK? Remember that you need to come into work.”
“I’ll be there, I promise.”
We hang up and I turn back to my book. I start to make notes, all the while both work and Peter are in the back of my mind, distracting my studies.
I’m so angry at myself for completely forgetting about work, but I’m also all floaty because I had the most wonderful time with Peter. I can’t wait to see him again. Still three hours until I’m due at his house.
I guess I really should get my head down and do at least an hour of studying before I head over.
When it gets to five, I move away from my book, well aware that I don’t remember a word that I’ve read.
I turn to my wardrobe and begin to search for an appropriate outfit. I could go for simple, casual. A t-shirt and jeans. Maybe that would be a little too informal. Maybe jeans and a blouse? Would that seem too forced?
I’ve got an abundance of dresses that I could wear, but it’s hard to decide which one is the better option. I don’t know if his parents are more conservative than they are chill.
I don’t want to make an assumption that they’re super uptight, but if they are, it’s safe to assume that they won’t appreciate jeans.
So, no jeans.
I could wear a blouse and some black trousers, but maybe I’d end up looking more like a business woman than a house guest.
So, no trousers.
Now all I’m left with are the dresses, and they range from ‘tea with my grandmother’ to ‘I’m not going home alone tonight.’
Obviously, I’m looking for something that fits soundly between those two things. I want to look respectable, but I also don’t want to wear the dress my grandmother got me, because it makes me look five years old. Not really the look I want to go for.
I pull out a summer dress that has minimal pink and looks both modest and sophisticated. I find a light jacket to match and lay them down on my bed, ready for me to climb into them later on tonight.
I stare around the room, looking to see if there’s anything I can do to occupy my mind for the night, but I can’t find anything of interest. I already know studying won’t work. My heart just isn’t in it.
Instead, I pull some jeans and a loose t-shirt on and decide to go for a walk. Maybe some fresh air will help me to clear my head a little.
I slip on some sneakers and leave the house, plugging my headphones in as I cross the street. I love listening to music as I walk. It’s like entering a completely different world. One where I have a theme tune. I have to work hard not to dance along to the music, and simply allow myself to have a little skip in my step.
I walk into the large park a few blocks from my house and begin to wander aimlessly around the small pond, where children are throwing bread to the ducks. My father used to take me to feed the ducks when I was younger. Once, a piece of bread fell onto the bank, and in my young mind, the ducks wouldn’t eat the bread unless it was in the water. Naturally, I leant over the side to pick up the bread and the bastard duck bit me.
I cried for ages. I remember my dad had to carry me home, and my mother was furious that he’d let me get hurt. But the thing was, it didn’t hurt. I barely felt it. I was just shocked that a duck would attack me when all I was doing was trying to help. It really hurt my feelings, I think.
We didn’t go feed the ducks after that, and from then until now, my dad likes to send me duck related things. For my birthday, he sent me a card that said, ‘have a quaking birthday’ with a picture of a duck on the front. My gift was wrapped in duck paper, and low and behold, it was a duck plush toy.
He’s a weird man, but I laugh every time. I appreciate that he didn’t get upset that one of our few bonding activities were taken away because of my sudden resentment of ducks.
He tried to replace it with sports, but I wasn’t willing to delve into that world, so I feigned an interest in rugby, because I knew that was a sport he knew nothing about. Unfortunately, he had decided to get to know it, so that we had something in common. This led to about two weeks where I watched old games and read about the history.
At the time, I was annoyed that
my lie had led to more studying, but now I know that my dad just wanted to spend time with me. I appreciate that now.
I walk around the park for around an hour, and I begin to wonder whether his parents are going to like me. I want to know what he’s told them about me, and whether they’re excited to meet me, or whether they think I’m going to be trouble.
Usually, parents love me. I’m an unassuming, smart and sweet girl. I work hard (when I remember to turn up) and never really do anything outrageous (until new Isobel came onto the scene, that is).
Should I be worried that, since I introduced this new Isobel onto the scene, I’ve been acting completely out of the ordinary. Obviously, this is something I started on purpose. I was so sick of the other me, the one who is always prissy and cute, and not very adventurous. I needed some more excitement in my life, but it’s doing more than that.
It’s changing who I am. It’s made me forget about work and climb into bed with a boy I barely know. I’m shocked with my behavior to say the least.
I turn around and start to head home, a million questions still swimming around in my head and drowning out all other thoughts.
As I close my bedroom door behind me, I receive another text from Annabelle.
“Woah, whoa, little caterpillar. What are you doing? Why are you meeting his parents? Isn’t it a little early on? You’re moving so fast. I knew you’d do badly at this whole thing if I wasn’t there. You need guidance, young grasshopper. Cancel the dinner. Wait until I come home in a few days and I’ll help. And what do you mean ‘non-sex’? Why didn’t you do the dirty all the way?”
I’m affronted.
What does she mean by that? Why does she not trust me to take control of my own dating life? I reply, feeling slightly angrier than is probably necessary.
“Thanks, Anna, but I think I’ll be fine. I am not cancelling the dinner. It’s bad manners. I’m doing fine on my own. And because I’m preserving my innocence. We’ll go all the way when we’re ready.”
I put my phone on silent, not wanting to hear back from her for a while. I need to calm myself down before I deal with her deliberate condescension. Who does she think she is? She’s hardly had the most successful dating life herself.
She’s more likely to bring a boy home for the night and never speak to them again than she is to date someone.
I realise now, that while I do not judge Stacey and her elaborate nights out and list of men, I don’t want to be like her at all. I’m happy looking for a relationship over a shoddy one-night stand.
I want something real rather than just something to feel for an hour before we both pass out and mumble awkward hellos to each other if, god forbid, we see each other again.
I quickly apply some make-up, trying to make it look natural, and pull my clothes on. I dig out some cute kitten heels and slip them on, completing my outfit. I analyse myself in the mirror, looking to see if there is anything I can see that would suggest I’m not the simple medical student that I am.
I pull my hair into a neat bun, thinking that leaving it down would look rather provocative. I pull a small handbag out of my drawer and fill it with my keys, my phone and my wallet and then make my way out of the house, ready to meet the two people that could affect mine and Peter’s relationship.
My god, I’m so nervous.
I hope they like me.
CHAPTER 06
Peter smiles broadly as he run home, ready to face the music of his parents and best friend. He’s really struggling to care that they might be annoyed with him about spending the night away while they were visiting. He knows he shouldn’t have, but how can he regret that? He had such a great time.
He reaches his apartment and takes a deep breath, the happiness of the past twelve hours still fluttering in his stomach like belated butterflies. He feels giddy and dizzy from his time with Isobel. Who knew they would be such a perfect match? Who knew they would melt into each other so wonderfully?
Peter climbs the steps and goes up to his apartment. The first thing he notices when he gets inside is his mother, stood by the breakfast counter, holding a cup of coffee. She has a sullen face and is pointedly not looking at Peter. He knows this is a bad sign.
“Morning, mom.” He says, as he makes his way into the kitchen.
He sits down on one of the chairs and waits, knowing his mother will take only minutes to voice her anger. She puts her coffee down gently on the work top and folds her arms, finally turning to face him.
“Where were you last night?” She asks, her voice filled with forced calmness.
“I was with Isobel.” He tells her, honestly.
Now isn’t the time to lie. Besides, he has a tell and his mother may be the only person in the world who knows what it is. She has always been able to guess when he wasn’t being truthful. It’s annoying.
“Oh?” Josie unfolds her arms, but her face remains the same. “Did you have a nice time?”
“It was great.”
“What did you get up to?”
“I took her to stargaze for a few hours and then we went back to hers, and I made her breakfast this morning and then I came home.”
“Is that all that happened?”
Peter looks at her, confused. Surely, she doesn’t want all the gory details of what a boy and girl did together when they spent the night alone? He certainly doesn’t want to explain that. He practically admitted to it by saying he spent the night, so he wouldn’t be lying if he said no.
“No. That pretty much sums it all up.”
His mother nods, and he is clearly unimpressed with his admission, so he changes the topic.
“Isobel is going to be coming over for dinner tonight, is that OK?” He asks, tentatively.
“Are you asking for my permission or my blessing?”
Peter knows he doesn’t need to ask his mother permission to have guests over, but he doesn’t want to voice that, as it might upset her.
“Both, I guess.” Peter replies.
“Well, I have no problem with it.” She huffs. “I suppose you expect me to cook for her, as well?”
“I’ll cook, mom, don’t worry about that.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not having a guest and serving up mac and cheese.”
“I wasn’t going to make that!” Peter protests, but his mother raises an eyebrow at his very obvious lie.
“I will have to cook. I hope she doesn’t have any specific dietary requirements.” His mother says, as if being allergic to food is something Isobel would have to deal with. “I’m not going to cook more than one meal, just for some woman you found on the streets.”
“Mom!” Peter cries, shocked at her words. “She’s not just some random woman. Please, please be nice to her.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” She asks, affronted, before turning to the cupboards to decide what to cook. “What time did you tell her to come over?”
Peter decides to ignore the question as to why his mom wouldn’t be nice to Isobel and instead ploughs forward with the conversation.
“I told her to be here by seven.”
“Well, she better be here on time. I’m not going to make everyone wait for her.”
Peter bites his tongue again. How can she be so needlessly rude about someone she has never even met? She’s just assuming that she’s some kind of tramp that he’s found on the streets, who is a fussy eater and isn’t very punctual. Why can’t she just accept that he’s found someone that he likes, and assume that she may be a very lovely girl?
“Ah, Peter, you’re home.” John announces, as he enters the kitchen.
Peter watches as John furtively looks at Josie to see whether she is still in a mood or not. He appears to be unsure, so he nods his head to the corridor. Peter thanks his mother for letting him have Isobel over and follows his dad. They go into Peter’s bedroom and John sits down at his desk. Peter, feeling anxious, sits on his bed.
Something about it makes him feel like he’s five years old again. He’s not
sure if his dad is going to shout at him or not, and he feels awkwardly small. He hasn’t really had a one-to-one talk with his dad for a while, so his nerves are warranted.
“We should discuss this lady friend of yours.” His father says, casually, as if they were discussing the weather.
“What is there to talk about? She’s a girl at college and she’s nice. I like her. Really, isn’t that all you should know? All you and mom need to do now is support that.”
“Well, son. I do support that. You know that I don’t care who you… date. It’s your mother that you need to worry about. She will find anything to hold against the poor girl, and I’m just letting you know that you should be preparing Isobel for that.”
Unexpected Lover: College Romance Book 1 Page 9