Unexpected Lover: College Romance Book 1

by Scarlett Archer

  Peter says he’s leaving at eight instead of nine, and I’ll never have time to talk to him unless I run over there, right now. I pull on some clothes and pull my hair into a messy pony tail. I shove my feet into one of the other girls Ugg boots and run from the house. I slow into a jog as I round the corner by his apartment, and I walk up the stairs.

  I’ve made good time. I still have at least ten minutes until Peter leaves. That should be enough time to tell him the truth and briefly explain why I did what I did.

  I come to a complete stop outside of his apartment door and I lean against the dusty red wallpaper to catch my breath. I probably look kind of gross and sweaty, so I make a rather vein attempt at wiping my face on my t-shirt. I fan my face and take a deep breath and knock.

  Barely a second passes before the door is opened wide and Josie appears, looking down on me like I’m junk mail.

  “Morning, Mrs. Carlson. How are you today?” I ask, forcing as much politeness into my voice as possible.

  “I am fine, considering you’ve knocked on the door at the crack of dawn.” She says, haughtily.

  I look her up and down. She’s wearing clothes. Not pyjamas, which means she’s been awake for a while. I want to point out that she’s got to think I’m stupid to believe that she’s only just woken up, but I stop myself short. She does think I’m stupid and I don’t think that disproving her would make her like me. Plus, I’m very diplomatic as a person. I don’t like confrontation. I prefer to discuss things in a calm fashion.

  “I’m incredibly sorry, Mrs. Carlson. Peter told me he was leaving at eight this morning, and I wanted to come over to talk to him before he left.”

  “Well, he’s busy right now.” She says.

  “I’m willing to wait until he has a spare minute.” I firmly stand my ground.

  I don’t want her to think that she has any chance of coming between me and Peter, whether it be for a conversation or a relationship. She won’t win this one.

  “Mom? Who is it!” I hear Peter call.

  “It’s me!” I call back, while smiling politely at Josie.

  She huffs loudly and stomps away from the door. Peter appears, looking back at his mother, confused.

  Josie disappears around the corner and I watch, wondering whether she is going to come back and say something truly nasty.

  “What happened?” Peter asks, but I almost don’t hear him.

  I’m just staring at his face. I’ve only gone a day without seeing it, and I already feel like I could stare at him forever. He seems a little distracted too, and I wonder if he’s having the same thoughts as me.

  “She was upset that I’d woken her up and told me that you were too busy to talk.” I tell him, my voice barely a whisper.

  I can’t concentrate on my words while he’s stood there, barely inches from me. His lips look’s so kissable, and his body so touchable. I just want to melt into him and never leave.

  “She’s been awake longer than me.” He mutters.

  He glares into the apartment, clearly annoyed at his mother for lying. He turns back to me and another moment of silence passes by as we take each other in. God, I just want to kiss him so badly. I just want to take him in my arms and go to bed, but that’s not what I’m here for. I’m here to be honest.

  “I have something important to talk to you about.” I say, and he grimaces

  I imagine most people react the same when someone says; ‘we need to talk’, but in this case, he needn’t worry about being in trouble. I’m the one who is in trouble. I’m the one who needs to admit to my wrongdoing.

  “What is it?” He asks, tentatively.

  I haven’t properly planned what I was going to say. I didn’t think far ahead enough to have the script prepared in my head, and now I’m kicking myself. I should have had it all ready and stored away in my head for when I was ready to talk to him. Now I’m stood here like an idiot, probably gaping like a dumb fish.

  “Isobel?” He lowers himself so that we’re at the same height.

  “I need to talk to you about who I really am.” I say, quietly.

  To my great surprise, he smiles. Not even a gentle smile. Like, a broad, knowing smile. Why is he doing that? There’s no way he could know. Or is there? At this point, I’m not sure.

  Maybe it’s not a knowing smile. Maybe it’s more that he’s relieved that I’m not here to call him out on something, but that would mean that he had something I could call him out on. Maybe we’ve both been lying. God, I hope he was lying about not wanting to study medicine.

  “Look, Isobel, don’t worry. We can talk about it when I get back. We’re pretty much on our way out, here.” He says, putting a hand on my arm.

  I’m not sure if we just have that much chemistry, or if he actually gave me an electric shock, but we both jump a little bit. He laughs and I smile, still feeling uncomfortable with the situation.

  “No, I really need to tell you before you go. It’s really important.”

  “Peter, come get your bag! We’re going to leave.” John shouts from inside the apartment.

  “Listen, whatever it is, it can wait, but trust me when I say that it doesn’t matter to me, ok? I know who you are, and that is what is important. In the meantime, just be patient. We can talk about it soon. A week isn’t the long, in the grand scheme of things.”

  He kisses me and then runs back into the house.

  I stand in the doorway, frozen with surprise. On the one hand, I’m surprised that he already seems to know who I am or at least, he doesn’t care that I may not be the person I’ve been parading myself around as being. On the other hand, that kiss lasted barely four seconds and I feel a little annoyed at how ephemeral it was. I want more. How dare he just peck me and run.

  His dad appears in the slim hallway, carrying a large bag on his back and pulling a large cooler behind him with other items stacked on top. He gives me a wide smile and a jovial wave and I stand with my back against the wall, to allow him to pass.

  “Morning, Isobel. Glad to see you again! We’re off camping!”

  I can’t help but smile. He sounds like a ten-year-old who is about to build his first tree house. I wish I could be that enthusiastic about camping, but to be honest, I don’t know how anyone could love spending that long, outside, without a hot shower or decent meal.

  Peter follows a few minutes later and he stands in front of me, towering slightly. Normally, I’d find this quite intimidating, but there’s something about him that suggests he would never hurt me.

  “Listen, whatever you wanted to tell me, it won’t change anything. I still… I still really like you, and nothing could stop me from wanting to spend time with you, do you understand? Nothing. You could have a completely different name and have lied about everything, and I’d still love…”

  We both awkwardly stare at each other. I know he didn’t mean to say the ‘L’ word, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t believe it. Freudian slip, I think it’s called. Not that I believe in that kind of stuff, but this is a moment that I’d definitely like it to be true.

  “Uh…” He seems to have stunned himself into silence, which is a shame, because I was enjoying is monologue moment.

  I stand on my tip toes and put my hands on either side of his face. I kiss him, letting him know that I feel the same way. He puts his arms around my back and pulls me in stronger so that our bodies are pressed tightly against each-others.

  When we finally pull away, we’re both flushed.

  “Um, like I was saying, uh, it won’t change anything. Nothing can change how I feel, OK?”

  I nod, my hands still on his face. I let them fall, feeling dejected. I’d really hoped to clear the air, and not I have to wait a whole week for that.

  I follow him downstairs, along with his mother and Jake, who is only in his boxers and a t-shirt. He keeps giving me a not-so-subtle sideways look and it makes me cringe. I wish he wouldn’t look at me like that.

  Peter and John both climb into the car and wav
e as they drive away. I stare after the car, a monumental longing filling my heart. I almost feel like crying, but I can’t. Not while Jake and Josie are stood next to me. I can feel their burning glares on the back of my neck, but I’m too distracted to care.

  I wave at them and mutter a vague goodbye, before setting off down the street at a slow, dragging pace. I don’t want to go home right now, but I can’t really go anywhere dressed like this. I have a few hours before my shift at work starts, so I decide to go to the park. Only tired dog walkers and joggers are there this early, so I won’t feel self-conscious about my outfit.

  I sit down on a bench and bring my knees up to my chest. I don’t think I have the right to feel so lonely and put out about this, but I do. I feel like I’ve been abandoned and it hurts. I want him to come back, but I can’t reasonably make that request.

  Maybe this time apart will be good for us? Maybe it’ll give us some perspective on who we are and what we mean to each other? It could strengthen our bond, or it could break it apart.

  When I was younger, I went to summer camp and I met this girl, Katy, who was really quiet and shy, like me. We became really, really good friends, but we never thought to share phone numbers before we left.

  I cried as we drove away, because I missed her so much. It felt like we were sisters, and we were being torn apart from each other. It all seemed so unfair, and my parents didn’t know what to do with me. I was just so sad for ages. Over the next month or so, I didn’t think about her so much, but I knew I wanted to go back to that camp to see her again.

  Well, the next summer rolls around and we’re both at the camp together, and we hugged, but it was really awkward. We didn’t speak for the rest of the time that we were there. It was like we didn’t know each other at all. I was horrified. I spent the entire summer feeling like an idiot for crying so much the year before, only for us not to talk the entire summer.

  With Peter, it’s only different in time. We spent a week together, and now will spend that much apart, but my worry is that the result will be the same. What if all this time we’ve spent together has just been the result of heightened emotions and by the time he’s back, they’ll have dissipated into indifference?

  I feel the first tear slide down my cheek, and I try to get a hold of myself. I shouldn’t be crying over something so silly, but my attempts to calm myself actually make me feel worse, and the tears become heavy.

  I fumble for my phone and text Jules, even though I know it’s too early to worry her and to expect to her worry about me.

  “I’m in the park, and I’m crying, and Peter has gone camping for the week. What if he doesn’t like me when he gets back? I didn’t even tell him about the lie! I don’t know what to do.”

  I send it, and remain on the bench, with my face buried into my knees, not expecting a response, but hoping for one.

  I’m losing track of time, but there are significantly more people in the park than before. I try to stop myself from crying so that I can make a move, but I can’t. I feel heartbroken, I don’t really think there’s another word for it. The worst part about it is that there’s really nothing for me to feel so heartbroken about. The biggest worries are all in my head, with nothing to back them up.

  Someone sits next to me, and I mumble a choked sorry, before trying to move away.

  “Bell, come here.”

  I look up and see Jules with Sophia on her hip, dozing, still in her pyjamas.

  She pulls me into a tight hug and I cry on her shoulder. She rubs my back and promises me that everything will be OK, even though I know it’s not a promise she can keep, because she has no control over the situation.

  “Stop worrying yourself, Belle. You’re making up situations as though they’re fact, but they’re not.”

  I know she’s right. Of course, she is, she always is. But that doesn’t stop my mind from running that scenario over and over again in my head until it begins to hurt.

  “Come back to mine. We’ll get ready for work together.”

  I don’t really feel like moving, but she has a vice grip and she takes my arm and pulls me along. I feel like a nuisance already, because she has Sophia on one arm and me on the other, but I don’t feel like I’m truly in myself yet. Maybe it’s that it’s so early in the day, and not because I’m suddenly an over emotional wreck.

  We walk all the way back to hers and she sits me down on the sofa with a glass of water and a box of tissues.

  “Calm yourself down while I get Sophia ready for school, OK? I’ll be with you in a minute.”

  I nod, and hiccup.

  When did I become like this? When did I become so ridiculous that I would find myself crying in a part over a guy I’ve known for five minutes? He’s probably ready to have the week of his life.

  CHAPTER 09

  Peter and his father have been driving for almost five hours, and John hasn’t stopped talking about how excited he is to spend some quality time with his son. Peter hasn’t been able to get a word in edgeways, but that’s fine by him. He’s mostly been blocking it all out, since his mind in currently occupied with thoughts of Isobel.

  She really was going to come clean and admit that she wasn’t just a waitress, but does that mean that she doesn’t recognize him from class? He must have a really high opinion of himself to assume that she’d recognize him straight away, considering how many people are in the class.

  He’s also been trying his hardest not to punch something. He’s not angry, necessarily, but rather sad, and therefore, angry that he’s sad. He really wishes that he didn’t have to leave her behind, because it felt like he was leaving something that he might not be able to go back to.

  What if she’s going to spend the rest of her week having fun and meeting other guys and she decides that there are better people out there? He’s not assuming that she’s the kind of girl who would do that, but why shouldn’t she? She’s young, beautiful and has the right to do what she wants with her time and her body. He just wishes she wouldn’t.

  He doesn’t want to sound possessive, but he doesn’t want to share her with anyone. He wants her to himself all the time. He wants to hold her, and talk to her, and to listen to her voice every minute of every day. Is that too much to ask? He knows that it is.

  “We’re here!” John calls, enthusiastically.

  Peter smiles, unable to stop himself. His dad never fails to make him feel better, not matter what it is. He always manages to become infected with the excitement of camping, even though he dreads it.

  “Let’s get our backs stacked and our feet moving!”

  They pull into an almost empty car park and open the trunk. They pull out their own bags and throw them over their shoulders. They then help each other to attach a pack onto their bag, and then they load the cooler onto the trolley.

  “Say goodbye to civilization, son. We’re not going to see it for a week.”

  “Goodbye.” He whispers, as he looks around the mountain base, where it would be a stretch to call civilization.

  They begin the trek, finding the trail from the bottom and begin to climb. Peter is out of breath within ten minutes, though he does his best to not complain. He feels his legs grow heavy and his shoulders begin to ache, but there’ nothing to do about it. He could say he’s tired, but what would his dad do about that? Turn around? He decides to keep his mouth shut and suffer.

  “You don’t look like you’ve done much working out since heading to college.” John comments.

  Peter shakes his head, but can’t speak. His breath is hard to catch and his dad squeezes his shoulder.

  “You’re lucky I factored this in. I know a good spot that is only half way up. Not much longer now.”

  Peter has to push himself forward, because he knows that stopping to take a breath would be the end of it. He’s decided to flow with the little momentum that he has. This last for another half an hour, at which point, his dad laughs at him and pushes him the rest of the way.

  They finally reac
h a flat ground and they relieve themselves of the bags, before sitting on the ground. By this point, even John has become quite short of breath. He kneels by the river side and splashes water onto his face.

  “That was quite the climb. A lot steeper than I was told it would be.” John admits as he stands back up.

  “Ye...yeah.” Peter says, as he lays sprawled on the floor.

  He doesn’t really intend to move for a while, and he has no reason to do. He’s always been bad at putting up tents, and his dad would take over within a minute, claiming that there’s no point in trying if you’re not really going to try. It’s not that he doesn’t try, but his heart is never in it. Besides, he knows that his dad likes to take charge when they’re camping.