Chapter 3
Bella POV
Part of me wanted to be upset that Peter had turned me down. When I awoke on Sunday morning, I vaguely remembered asking him to stay with me. I also remembered him leaving anyway, but I couldn’t bring myself to be mad at him for that. I refused to believe that I would regret anything that could have happened between us, though I definitely would have wished it was under different circumstances.
I had been nervous as shit when he showed up at my apartment before the football game, but as the day progressed, I was glad that he had put an end to our stalemate. It wasn’t as though our pen pal relationship was without its advantages, but Alice had a point when she teased me about our “internet dating.” Every time she said it, I would immediately defend myself by saying that we definitely weren’t dating –not even close - and she would always laugh about it.
That arrangement existed, or at least it began, for one major reason: I wasn’t ready to trust Peter again.
Things between us last year were complicated. I meant every angry word that I said to him when we spoke over the summer. I felt like scum for being a part of his cheating, and I spent a great deal of time berating myself over it. I was ashamed of my lack of control, and my self-loathing was the reason that I left the morning after while everyone else was still asleep. It was the same reason that it took me so long to contact him. Even though what we did was incredibly hot and seared into my memory, whether I wanted it there or not, I was still overcome with guilt. I finally got to a point where I knew that I needed to apologize for allowing that to happen. Yes, he was a grown ass man who could make his own decisions, but he wouldn’t have done it if my willpower and resistance had been stronger. I had hoped that once we cleared the air, we would be able to move forward without any awkwardness.
I would always be grateful to my friends who helped me step back from the situation and form that resolve during the break between sophomore and junior year.
The first portion of my summer was spent catching up with high school friends, helping my mom in the garden and around the house, and volunteering at a nursing home where my mom used to work as a nurse. She said that there were always residents who enjoyed being read to when they could no longer do so themselves. The plethora of audio books available these days helped with that hobby, but it lacked the personal touch. As a literature nut and English major, my mom made the suggestion to me a few years ago. It was a pleasant way to pass the time, and it was extremely fulfilling to give that sort of gift to someone else.
Mrs. Grappler was one of my favorites. We had met three years ago, and there was just something about her that always drew me back to her side. When I first called her by her formal name, she scoffed at me and said that Mrs. G. was not acceptable either.
“My name’s Gertrude, though that probably sounds a little silly to you. How’s Gigi sound?”
“I think it’s perfect.”
She was my friend. Over the years, her vision grew progressively worse, making my recitation of her favorite classics even more valuable. Gigi had been an English teacher for years, which was how she met her late husband, William. They spent their entire lives in Central Washington, and when William passed away, her children moved her to Seattle.
Gigi was special. We would spend hours talking about anything and everything we could think of, from stories of her life to books, and my favorite, nursing home gossip. She was a riot, and I never tired of being with her. I would always comply when she joked about monopolizing my time and shooed me away to visit other residents.
Aside from her vision and the natural toll of eighty-six years of life, Gigi had some other health issues. I never asked or tried to find out information that she didn’t offer, though. Respecting her privacy was important to me, and I knew she appreciated that I spent time with her because I enjoyed her company, not because I felt bad for whatever her ailments may have been.
Somehow, I repeatedly found myself opening up to her about my life. She had so much knowledge and wisdom to share, yet she took an interest in my mundane stories. It always amused me, and in turn, she found great humor in my bashful hesitance to share. The truth was that it was actually quite easy to open up to Gigi, but I didn’t want to over share about my social life and risk altering her opinion of me. Being a college student now was much different than when she was my age. Nonetheless, I found myself pouring my heart out to her about Peter one late June afternoon.
“So what you’re getting at is that you had improper relations with this boy, and that’s why you feel bad now?” she asked. Her bluntness left me stunned.
“Gigi!” I gasped. “I…I…”
“Well did you?”
“Umm, yes…? But not in the way you’re probably thinking.”
“More than kissing, less than sex?”
“Something like that.”
“Bella, honey girl, I may be old, but I’m not naïve. I know how the world works these days.”
She went on to assure me that it was not the end of the world and that I should not allow something that was in the past to consume the present. She told me to give it time and assured me that I would know the right thing to do when the opportunity came. Gigi was the only person I actually discussed that situation with, and I knew that she was the best one for the job. I still felt terrible that it had happened the way it did, but I allowed myself to move forward and focus on other aspects of my life, even if that unresolved issue still lingered in my mind.
A few days later, my parents and I headed out for our annual summer trip to Forks to visit the family. Each year, we spent the first two weeks of July on the Olympic Peninsula, which was always a nice change from the city. We had done it since I was a kid, and the summer never felt complete until then. We all had our favorite things to do while we were there: Dad loved fishing with his buddies, Mom caught up with her sister and had girl time, and I spent the majority of my time on the Quileute reservation, enjoying the beach whenever the weather cooperated.
My dad had been best friends with a couple of guys on the rez since they were young, so I had known all of their kids my entire life. Even though we only saw each other in the summer and a few other scattered dates throughout the year, it didn’t make us any less of friends. I can remember sending letters to each other when we were younger, then, during high school, there were plenty of phone calls, emails, and instant messages exchanged. I even went to their prom with one of the guys when I was in eleventh grade.
As we got older, some things changed. People dated and broke up, some had summer jobs or traveled, and a few of the older “kids” moved away for college, work, or marriage. The group that remained was tight-knit, and even though they teased me about being the only “pale face” within the clique, I was always welcomed with open arms.
That summer was no different, and I was grateful for the change of scenery. I loved and missed my college friends, but I had only been there for one semester since transferring. The pack, as they had nicknamed themselves sometime when we were kids – I can’t even remember why anymore – were my oldest and dearest friends.
The first time I was able to see them was on the Fourth of July. Even though the holiday wasn’t exactly something you would think Native Americans would be excited about, we always celebrated big. The day was spent on the beach with all our families socializing and enjoying a barbeque. That night, our parents went back to their respective homes while we continued the festivities with a huge bonfire up on the cliffs.
The entire day was a blast, and I spent hours talking and catching up with everyone. Late in the evening, full of burgers and beer, I sat with Jacob and admired the fire. His father, Billy, was my dad’s best friend, so I knew Jake better than anyone. When I was thirteen and he was twelve, I was his first real kiss, the product of a game of Truth or Dare during a similar bonfire. We had kissed two other times over the years, but it never went beyond that.
I always had the feeling that Jacob had a bit of a crush on me, but I didn’t see him as much more than a friend. I would say that he was more like a little brother, but that would be sort of gross. We got along great, and he was just so damn sweet. Caring, loyal, funny, easy-going…all those words described him well, yet my mind wouldn’t go there with him. That summer, however, something was different. After his first year of college, Jacob was, for lack of a better term, hot.
He still had a hint of his baby face with cheeks you wanted to pinch, but he had a body like a WWE wrestler, and his thick, dark hair was now cropped short and stylishly. When he smiled at me, it made me smile in a different sort of way than I usually did with him.
I let him slide his arm around my waist at the campfire, and when I was ready to go home, he called my dad to pick me up. None of us were in any condition to drive, so even though our parents knew we weren’t all of the legal age to drink, they accepted that this was really no different from what we did at college, and they promised to come get us when the party was over.
We said goodnight to everyone, and Jacob held my hand as I stumbled down the dark, wooded trail that led back to the road. He laughed as I tripped over roots and rocks, steadying me before I could fall. We stood on the side of the road facing one another, and I didn’t object when he bent down and kissed me.
Then…nothing.
The kissing part felt good, as did his warm arms wrapped around me, but there was no spark. Well, at least not on my end. No matter how I tried to manipulate my emotions, I could not make myself want more from him. That didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the physical side of things, though.
The rest of my trip involved a great deal of fun with my friends, accompanied by a healthy dose of make out time with Jacob. He taught me how to rock climb and rappel on the cliffs, and we spent a lot of time practicing that. It was an intense workout, and I was surprised that I enjoyed it. I wondered how much of that had to do with Jacob and how much was solely because of the activity. No matter what we did, I was honest with Jake about my feelings – or lack thereof – and he accepted it for what it was. He always had that look of hope in his eyes, but he was old enough to know the difference between a little fun and something serious. It occupied our time and sated my desire for a little affection, and that was good enough for me.
I had been having such a good time with everyone that I decided to stay a little longer after my parents went home. Since I didn’t have any real obligation back in Seattle and my grandparents loved the idea of an extra long visit, my parents agreed to come pick me up a week and a half later.
Jacob and I continued to spend time together, and I made sure to fit in dinners with my family and playtime with my younger cousins. Everything was laidback and going well until I received a distressed phone call from my mother on the fifth morning after they left.
“Honey, I’m so sorry, but I think you might like to come home. It’s…it’s Gigi, baby. The nursing home called. The doctors are only giving her a few days.”
When Jacob arrived not long after to pick me up for a day on the beach, I was busy packing my things while I waited for my dad to come get me. He offered to drive me back to the city, pointing out that I would get there faster that way, so I agreed. We stopped in La Push so he could grab a change of clothes, and we started the drive immediately.
We didn’t even stop at my parents’ house before we went to the nursing home. I rushed inside, with Jacob close behind, and the head nurse on duty immediately knew why I was there. I asked how Gigi was doing and if I could see her. I was allowed into her room after she had been given a dose of painkillers in her IV.
She didn’t look very different than the last time I had seen her, other than appearing very tired. She opened her eyes when I approached, sniffling and holding back my tears.
“Is that you, my honey girl? I’d know that little whimper anywhere. Now get over here and sit with me for a while.”
I laughed at her sassiness, even as she waited on death’s doorstep, and sat beside her, taking her hand in mine. She asked who was with me, and I introduced her to Jacob. We talked together, but Gigi was tired. Mostly, Jacob and I shared stories with her about my vacation in Forks and La Push, and she smiled and laughed breathily when she could. The entire visit was heartbreaking for me, but I was exactly where I needed to be. She didn’t seem afraid to die, but I was riddled with guilt for having left her when we could have had so much more time together if it weren’t for my vacation.
Her sons returned after a couple hours, so I excused myself, promising to return the next day. All the while, I selfishly hoped that she would still be alive when I came back so that I could get a little more time with her. To my surprise, she asked everyone for a moment alone with me, which I willingly agreed to give her. I sat back in my chair at her bedside, and she turned her head toward mine. I wondered if she could even see the blurry outline of me any longer, but I didn’t ask. She simply squeezed my hand and began to speak.
“Bella, sweet girl, you’ve been so good to me, and I don’t want you to be upset when I’m gone. The Lord’s calling me home, and I get to go be with my William now. Now listen to me good. That boy, he’s not your college boy, is he?”
“No, he’s not.”
“Mmm hmm, I could tell. He’s a nice boy, Bella, but he’s not the right one for you. I don’t need my eyes to see that. Honey, I don’t know if that other young man is the one for you either, but if I’ve learned one thing in my life, it’s that you can’t let unresolved situations keep you from finding your happy. You do what you need to do so you can get over that hurt. I know it’s a burden on your sweet heart, so find a way to learn from it and live your life. It’s a gift to have this time on Earth, so don’t ever let the heavy things weigh you down. Remember that with your boy and in everything you do. And always remember that I love you.”
Again, I promised to return the following morning before I left. Jacob had stayed that night at my parent’s house and allowed me to cry on his shoulder and deal with my inevitable loss. He accompanied me the following morning when I went to see Gigi again. Her sons were already in her room, along with their wives. I didn’t want to interrupt, but they insisted I join them. Gigi was no longer lucid, but she had asked that I read to her one last time. The request made tears stream down my face instantly, but I sucked them back with the help of an encouraging hug from Jacob, and I read some of her favorite poetry. After a while, I left the family alone, giving Gigi one final kiss on her forehead and whispering “I love you” so that only she could hear.
Her words stayed with me after we left, after Jacob returned to La Push, and long after the funeral. It took more than a week before I could return to my volunteering duties at the nursing home, and even then, I wasn’t the same.
I missed Gigi, but I knew that wallowing in my own self-pity over the loss would have only upset her if she had been around to see me. In a way, her death gave me a new perspective on life. I always asked her about her past and her experiences, so I knew I needed to take those things to heart and listen to her. She had lived much longer than me, and she had wisdom to impart.
I thought about all the advice she had given me about Peter and about living in the present, not with past regret. I wanted to do that, if not for myself, then in her honor. I knew that I needed to face him eventually, and even if it was difficult, I needed to make peace with him in order to forgive myself.
The friend request I sent on Facebook was my first step. I vacillated over that decision for at least ten minutes once I had his page pulled up on my computer screen. My arrow hovered over the request button, taunting me to just suck it up and click. As soon as I did, I signed out and turned off my computer. I wanted to say that I waited patiently to see what he would do, but I didn’t. I checked my notifications several times a day, anxious to see if he had been online and accepted…or denied.
After several days, I had made myself incredibly self-conscious about the whole thing, convinced that he had told Maria about our night together and that she had forbidden him from ever speaking to me again if he wanted to stay with her. Many other similar scenarios ran through my mind, each equally torturous and self-loathing.
Then, I signed on one day and saw that he had accepted. I immediately lurked through his profile, searching for activity, new photos, or any kind of information that would give me an indication of how he was doing since I had last seen him. To my surprise, there were no pictures added since the previous Christmas, and his wall was relatively inactive. He didn’t play games or use any of the applications on the site. Finally, I noticed something shocking in his personal information. His profile said that he was single. Single, as in without a girlfriend, no Maria, no anyone.
A swell of irrational anger boiled in my stomach, combined with confusion. I felt almost jilted that he hadn’t contacted me when he and Maria broke up, but then again, why would he? He didn’t owe me anything, and for all I knew, he was devastated over the breakup, whenever it had occurred. All those unexpected emotions made me impulsive. I noticed that he was online and immediately sent him a message, questioning him about his status.
Then came the fury.
I could not wrap my head around how or why he would not tell me about Maria breaking up with him when we were still at school. He led me to believe that they were still together, and his omission made me think I was something and someone I despised. He deserved each ugly, bitter thing I said to him, as far as I was concerned, and to my surprise, he took every insult without argument.
I was a taken aback by his willingness to talk to me about the breakup and how he was feeling, but the more he told me, the more sympathetic I became. I didn’t want to be mad at him any longer – that had gone on long enough – but I didn’t know how to not be. Instead of focusing on myself, I listened to his words and tuned into the sincerity of them. Even if what he had done was completely stupid and shitty, I could sort of, almost, maybe understand his reasoning for not telling me. The only comfort I could muster was from the way he insisted that I wasn’t some random girl to him, but it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t sure how I could find a way to trust him enough to consider him a real friend again.
Summer passed quickly after that conversation. I found a rock climbing gym in the city and continued my new hobby while I could; the fall semester would not allow for much of that. It was soon time to move back to school and into my new apartment with Alice, so I did my best to keep thoughts of Peter on the back burner. We stayed in touch but just barely.
Our paths crossed at a party before classes started, and seeing him again made me nervous and uneasy. I knew that I wasn’t ready to let everything go just yet. He had really hurt me, and I needed him to prove that I was worth the effort. I couldn’t bring myself to spend time interacting with him, so we emailed. A lot. It turned out to be exactly what I needed. We took a break from discussing his previous relationship and focused on one another. We told each other about our classes, the activities we were involved in, and other typical school-related subjects. Eventually, our conversations moved away from those impersonal details and into friendlier territory. Opinions on life at school filtered in, and eventually, we were asking questions and sharing stories.
I looked forward to those emails, and whenever I saw one from Peter, I would reply as soon as my schedule allowed. It filled in the gaps and mended many of the holes in our broken friendship. There were no distractions of sexual attraction or drunken decision-making to screw things up when we continued to interact that way. By the end of September, I felt so much better about everything, but it was overruled by the fear of what could or would happen if we spent time together again. Would things have the same ease as our pleasant email banter or would they be awkward? Would Peter expect me to jump into a physical relationship? Would I be able to resist that if he did?
I had grown accustomed to my safety zone with him, and I was hesitant to risk losing that. If we spent time together and found that we couldn’t get along that way, I knew that I would hate not having him in my life at all. So instead of taking the chance and reinstating our friendship, I continued with the good thing we had going. I didn’t take the chance; I wasn’t brave enough.
However, I couldn’t be upset that Peter showed up at my apartment unannounced with Jasper and spent the entire day with us. He did what I was afraid to, and I was grateful.
It was a good day, no, a great day. We fell into an easy pattern together, talking, laughing, and enjoying the company of someone we hadn’t truly seen in a very long time. It felt nice and comfortable and right to be around him that way again. I loved how easy and seamless it was, even though it was unexpected. There was something different in his demeanor. I could not keep my eyes off him; it was as though I was studying his every move, trying to read him and determine what was going on in his mind.
Of course, the more I watched Peter, the more I remembered why I was attracted to him in the first place. There were obviously his physical attributes, and those were definitely noteworthy, but it was more than that. He had a way of making people laugh so easily, and when he smiled…damn, his whole face lit up with something that went deeper. All his charms resurfaced, and I couldn’t help but feel that same old draw toward him, like I was a moth gravitating toward a light.
By evening, my good spirits were tangible and contagious. Peter and Jasper hung back from all the girls at my sorority sisters’ party, but every time I looked at him, his eyes were on me. The feelings that stirred inside me were exciting and frightening all at once. Then, to see him turn down the advances of my friends when he could have easily had practically anything he wanted from them, well, that was as much as I could take. He was too much, too sexy, too enticing.
I just needed to have him close to me. I didn’t actually mean to throw myself at him, but in my drunken state, it was difficult to choose the most sensible course of action. Even if he would have spent the night with me, I would have been completely satisfied with only snuggling, as I said. Then again, given our track record, he did us a both a favor. He was a good guy, even if he had made mistakes. Lord knows I had, too. The fact that he didn’t want to take advantage of the situation because I was drunk reaffirmed my trust in him as it was slowly rebuilding.
Thoughts of Peter and recall of the previous night flooded my dreams and filled my head from the moment I awoke. I smiled at the memory of his lips on mine…of my plea for things to be better and no longer strained between us…of his confession that he wanted to be good for me, in whatever respect he meant that.
Turning toward my bedside table, I noticed the bottle of water and aspirin sitting there. Oddly enough, the sight made me smile. It was a caring gesture, and I truly appreciated it. Propping myself up on my side, I twisted the cap off the bottle and swallowed the pain relievers, chasing them with a long sip. I didn’t feel terrible, but I preferred to be proactive in the event that a more severe headache would kick in later.
The apartment was quiet, so I showered, tidied up my room, and set out all the books and notebooks I would need for my Monday classes. After gathering a basketful of laundry, I carried it out to the kitchen where our stacked-unit washer and dryer sat within a closet. I started a load in the washer and brewed a pot of coffee to help me wake up. As I waited to transfer my clothes to the dryer, I sat at the kitchen table enjoying my caffeine and formulating a plan. I was nervous, anxious, and hesitant, but I knew what I needed to do, or what I wanted to do, at least. I had to act while the opportunity was available.
By the time the spin cycle skidded to a halt, my leg was bouncing furiously. I switched my laundry over quickly, then practically ran into my bathroom to brush my teeth and check my make-up. I smoothed my hair down with my hands, fighting a wayward wave and finally giving up after several attempts. I stared at my reflection, took a deep breath, and gave myself a reassuring nod.
Ten minutes later, I was standing in front of a nondescript wooden door. The number was slightly lopsided and there were scuff marks at the base where someone had probably pushed the door open with their foot while carrying groceries inside.
Snap out of it! I chided myself.
Right, I need to actually knock…
Within moments, the door opened, and the sight before me caught me completely off guard. I knew I was going to see Peter; I had obviously come here to talk to him because I knew he would be home alone, but I had not anticipated finding him in his current state.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, staring shamelessly at him.
He was looking back at me, eyes slightly widened. One of his hands remained on the doorknob while he held a tee shirt in the other, as if he had just taken it off. He was in green mesh running shorts and sneakers, his long, toned calves uncovered. Then, there was his chest. Glory be to God who created this man because those abs were worth a chorus of Hallelujahs. I was familiar with the shape of his body, but not like this, never like this. He wasn’t overly sculpted anywhere, except for his arms, but it was all a nice, tight package of sweat-soaked skin and a subtle hint of hair on his lower belly. I noticed freckles scattered on his shoulders and arms, as well as a few others here and there along his torso. It all led me up to his gorgeous face, bearing a slight layer of stubble across his jaw and the same sheen of sweat that coated the rest of his body.
I was certain that I had never made such a thorough assessment of a man ever, let alone over the course of approximately ten seconds.
“Bella?” he said smoothly, but the confusion in his voice was evident. He lifted his shirt and wiped his face and neck dry with it as he waited for my response, and then he stared down at the crumpled cotton as though he was unsure what to do with it. He scrubbed it over the top of his head quickly, leaving behind a messy disarray of the strands that he kept longer than he had sophomore year. My stomach flipped. Finally, he settled on wrapping the shirt around the back of his neck, allowing either end to dangle over his collarbone.
“I, umm…I just…”
“Do you want to come in?” he asked, smirking slightly. I returned it with a half smile. My eyes drifted away from his face as I stepped inside, lingering on the dark trail of hair leading into his shorts and, oh god, the lightly defined V at his hips…
I attacked him.
There was no nice way to put it. I literally pushed myself inside, slamming the door behind me, and I grabbed the ends of the tee shirt around his neck, yanking him toward me. He was forced to bend down to meet me, and I just kept pulling until he was close enough for me to lean up and fold my lips over his.
“Fuck,” I mumbled again, sliding one of my hands to the back of his neck and allowing the other to trace over his moist skin. My fingertips studied his abs, relishing the feeling of him.
Peter hummed appreciatively as he responded to my kiss, opening his mouth to allow our tongues to slide together. He tasted like mint gum and Gatorade and fucking perfection all at once. I hoped he didn’t mind my coffee and toothpaste mixed in there.
His hands moved to my waist, and instead of continuing to pull him, I pushed so that he walked backwards until we hit the high kitchen counter. I nudged him into a barstool, kissing him again as I moved in between his legs.
“Hey, hey, slow down.” I heard his words as my lips slid toward his neck, but I didn’t obey.
“No.”
“Bella…”
“I don’t understand what the problem is here,” I scowled when he shoved me back gently, holding me half an arms-length away with his hands on my shoulders.
He drew a deep breath, shaking his head and lightly grinning at me, but there was something else he was holding back. “There’s no problem, I just want to do things right.”
“This feels pretty right to me,” I said, pushing my hips against him.
He groaned, but quickly stood, spinning me around and lifting me onto the stool before I could object. “Just…hold on,” he insisted.
I pouted, folding my arms over my chest. He remained at least a foot away from me, but when he extended his hand, I took it. I watched him raise it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on my knuckles before he spoke.
“Bella, I seriously have no idea where that came from, but I’m not opposed to finding out.” He dropped my hand, gesturing toward himself. “I just got back from the fitness center. Let me take a quick shower, and we’ll go get some brunch. Sound good?”
“Sure,” I nodded, still slightly disappointed, but temporarily appeased.
“I’ll be right out. Make yourself at home.”
He slipped out of the room before I could object or respond, so I looked around, trying to find something to occupy me while I waited. I noticed some dishes in the sink and on the counter, as well as some other small messes in the kitchen, so I started cleaning up and loading the dishwasher, simply out of habit.
I hadn’t meant for things to happen quite as they had, but seeing Peter right after his workout, all manly and sexy, well, damn. My better judgment was gone before I had time to reconsider.
In a way, I was frustrated with myself because resistance seemed to be the root my trouble with Peter. I knew that wasn’t entirely true since misunderstandings, a lack of honesty, and miscommunication factored in, too, but there was absolutely no denying that we shared something chemical, visceral, and undeniable. He was right that we needed to slow down, even if my libido had distracted me for a minute back there.
I was so immersed in my cleaning that I didn’t hear him come up behind me until his breath was in my ear and his hands were placed softly on my hips.
“I didn’t know this visit included maid service,” he teased in a low, husky voice.
I jumped and shrieked stupidly, so he wrapped his arms around me from behind and gave me a light squeeze.
“Holy hell, Peter!”
He chuckled. “Calm down, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Sure you didn’t,” I teased sarcastically, feeling my heartbeat return to a normal pace. He dropped his chin to my shoulder and sighed.
“Come on, I promised you brunch.”
I spun around slowly and looked him over as he backed away. He looked amazing in jeans and a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, but that sort of thing was to be expected with him. I couldn’t help but stare at his forearms for several moments, thinking about how strong and sexy his arms were beneath his sleeves.
“Should I take it off?”
My cheeks burned, believing that he was calling me out on my ogling. “What?”
“Well, you’re scowling at my shirt. Should I change into something else?”
“Oh…oh geez, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…never mind. Should we get going?”
“Sure,” he said with a laugh. I wasn’t entirely convinced that he believed my gawking was about liking or disliking his choice of clothing, but I preferred to stay quiet about the matter rather than admit that I was nearly drooling on him moments before.
He drove us to a waffle shop a few minutes away, and we slid into the small booth, facing one another. It was the kind of place that the tables were worn and the coffee was obscenely strong, but the food came out fast and it was delicious. I ordered a Belgian waffle smothered in blueberries, butter, and whipped cream, and Peter had an omelet with a side of home fries and a short stack of pancakes. The food was fantastic and I ate too much, but it was the perfect follow-up to an entire day of drinking. When the check came, he insisted that it was his treat, so I thanked him for that.
We didn’t discuss what had happened earlier or the way I had kissed him when he took me home Saturday night, but the time we spent together was comfortable. We talked like old friends who were getting together after a long time apart. That was partially true, given the circumstances, but it wasn’t as though we hadn’t been in contact at all.
I felt unexpectedly sad when he drove back toward my apartment. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him, and it was still early in the day.
“Do you want to hang out a little longer?” I asked hesitantly. “I mean, if you don’t have other stuff to do today.”
“Yeah, sure,” he said, looking over at me and smiling in that familiar way that always made my mind a little fuzzy. “Your place or mine?”
“Umm, let me find out what Alice is doing.” I pulled my phone from my purse and realized that I didn’t need to call. She had sent me a text a few minutes prior saying that Jasper had a study group and she was going shopping.
“Are you going to call?”
“Oh, sorry,” I replied. “I guess either of our places would be fine. We’ve both been abandoned for the day.” I held my phone up and wagged it in his direction.
“Well, how about my apartment then?” he asked. “That way, I don’t have to worry about parking at yours.”
We walked through his door a few minutes later, and I left my shoes by the welcome mat.
“So…what would you like to do?”
“I don’t know, I guess just talk, maybe?” I suggested, biting my lip.
“We’ve been talking a lot. What did you have in mind?”
“Can we sit down first?”
He nodded. “Of course. Do you want to sit out here in the living room, or uh, we could go in my bedroom.”
“Maybe your bedroom?” I smiled. “I’m so stuffed from brunch.”
He agreed, and I followed him into his room. It was the first time I had been in there, and my eyes unintentionally wandered, examining photographs, books, a couple posters, furniture, and his desk.
“Sit?” His offer brought me out of my observation, and I sat down at the end of the bed, curling my legs underneath me.
For a long while, we both just sat there, unsure of what to say. Things hadn’t been awkward at brunch, but it felt as if the tone had changed. We were alone and had the opportunity to actually discuss things. I really wanted to do that, but I had no idea where to start. After a few minutes, Peter readjusted himself, lying on his back with his hands folded behind his head. He glanced at me once, then stared up at the ceiling. I wasn’t sure if he was waiting for me to start the conversation or if I was waiting for him. Eventually, I dropped onto my side with a heavy sigh, stretching my legs and propping my head up on my bent arm.
“So…”
“So…”
“I don’t want to go back to the weirdness,” he said, turning his head to the side to face me. “Yesterday was really nice, and today has been pretty good too, you know?”
“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
“Okay then, I’m not sorry,” I laughed lightly. “I just…don’t know what to say.”
He looked back at the ceiling for a moment, closing his eyes to think. I wanted to know what was going through his mind, and without thinking, I voiced that desire.
“What’s going on in there? Just tell me what you’re thinking at this exact moment.”
He looked at me again, his blue eyes hopeful and a small smile pulling his lips upward. “You sure you want to know?”
“Of course,” I replied, even though his expression made me nervous for some strange reason.
“I’m just happy,” he admitted, still smiling. “I was a total shithead to you last year, yet you find it your heart to still talk to me, still put forth the effort, and now you’re here.”
That wasn’t the first time he had said something to that effect. For whatever reason, Peter hinted at the idea that he didn’t deserve to have a place in my life. If I had heard it several times, I wondered how often he thought that way. I knew it couldn’t be something he said to appease me when he brought it up so often.
“I don’t want to feel like we need to play catch up anymore, Peter. You’ve explained things to me, you’ve apologized, and we’ve worked on stuff. I lost someone really special to me over the summer, and if I learned anything from her, it’s that holding onto the shitty parts of life only make you a miserable person. I don’t want to be that way, and I don’t want us to keep going over that stuff again and again. I want to move forward.”
His eyebrows crinkled and a look of sympathy lingered on his face. “Do you want to talk about it…I mean, about her? Whoever she was…”
“You really want to know?” I asked, trying to assess whether his suggestion was sincere or simply a polite gesture. I saw nothing but genuine interest in his pretty cobalt eyes.
He nodded, rolling onto his side and mirroring my position to face me. “Yeah, of course I do. You can talk to me about anything. I would listen to you recite your grocery list just to hear your voice.”
“You’re such a dork!” I teased.
He shrugged a shoulder and softly kicked me to urge me to begin.
I told him all about Gigi, how long I had known her, and all the special times we had together. Of course, I omitted the parts about discussing him, but that was too private to share. He asked me questions about my volunteer work in general and why I loved it so much, and then I eventually described returning home when she was close to the end and the time I spent with her.
We had inched closer to one another as we spoke, which I didn’t really notice until tears were falling at the memory of Gigi’s passing. Peter reached out to wipe them away, providing me with whatever comfort he could.
“Bella, can I…?” he asked, gesturing that he wanted to hug me. I nodded my consent – I needed that physical comfort – and he pulled me against him. I buried my face in his neck as he tucked one arm beneath me and wrapped the other one over my shoulder. It only took a few minutes for my tears to dissolve, but I didn’t want to let go.
My body relaxed when my crying jag ended, and I carefully pulled my top arm from between us to wrap around his waist. We were silent, but there was so much communication still happening between our bodies. He stroked my hair, and I snuggled closer. I pressed my leg against his, and he hooked his over mine. He kissed the top of my head, and I lifted my mouth to kiss the bottom of his chin. It was quiet and slow, cautious and respectful.
“Bella?” he said after a while. I hummed, keeping my eyes closed but turning my face toward his. “I’m going to kiss you.”
I didn’t have to wait long for him to follow through. He moved only enough to align us properly, and then his lips were pressed softly against mine. Everything about that union was gentle and carefully timed. There was no hurry or selfish force, and I found myself slightly ashamed of the way I had launched myself at him earlier that day. This was the complete opposite of our earlier kissing, but the same passion was there. We were both exactly where we wanted to be, still unsure of what direction we were moving in but content to figure it all out together.
He rolled me back, angling the top half of his body over mine and allowing our hands to move and feel more. The weight of him against me was sensual and opened my mind to more possibilities of things we could do in his bed, but I didn’t allow myself to linger there. I was happy just kissing and enjoying those moments.
When he pulled away and gazed down at me, I immediately missed the contact, but I was okay with it. There was no hurry necessary. I wasn’t sure where that feeling came from, I just…knew.
I was surprised when he brushed my hair out of my face and spoke.
“I know this is a little late, but I need to ask you something.”
“What?” I asked in confusion, leaning up on my elbows. I honestly had no idea what he was thinking.
“Is there anything I should know about, or anyone, I should say? I don’t want to assume anything, but your pictures on Facebook from the summer…that guy?”
It took me a moment to realize what he meant; it had been several months since I had posted the photos of my vacation and all my friends in La Push. When I thought about what he meant, it occurred to me that there were a lot of pictures of Jacob and me. I had never considered what Peter would infer from those.
“Oh, no, Peter. Anyone you saw there was just a friend. I don’t think you need to hear all the details of my summer, but I’m not dating anybody. I mean, I would not be here with you if there was someone else. Not after everything last year.”
“I’m sorry that I insinuated that you would do something like that, especially after…yeah, all that. But I just wanted to be sure.”
“I get it,” I assured him. I smiled, and he tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.
He smiled back, kissing my nose before he spoke again. “It’s just that…I like this a lot. I don’t know what we’re doing, and I guess we don’t really have to know yet, but I like…you.”
As I absorbed his confession, a huge smile spread across my face. He said he liked me. God, it was such a juvenile thing to feel so giddy about that, but it was exactly how he made me feel. Things started out so bumpy for us that it was hard for me to distinguish between lust and deeper feelings. Yes, we had needed all those emails and the time apart to get to know each other better and work on our issues, but there was no way of knowing if that meant as much to him as it did to me. It seemed like he wanted more than something casual, but I needed to hear him say those words to fully understand and accept it.
“That’s good,” I whispered, looking into his eyes coyly, “because I kinda like you, too.”
“Just kinda?” he asked, pouting. I poked him in the ribs, and his pout quickly turned to a smile. That escalated into a poking war, which eventually evolved into tickle torture that didn’t stop until I rolled off the bed and landed on the floor with a loud thunk.
“Oww…” I groaned, but I was still laughing.
“Oh shit, Bella! Are you okay?” he asked, hopping off the bed and squatting on the floor next to me. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“I’m fine, I promise. I’ll get you back when you least expect it, though, so be prepared!”
We spent a little more time together that night before I decided to head home. I needed to make dinner, and there were still a couple small assignments I had to complete before class on Monday. There was, of course, a bit more making out before he would let me leave, but I didn’t complain.
The next two weeks were spent adjusting to our new development, but we never actually defined what we were to one another. Considering that we spent time together nearly every day since Homecoming, I knew that we were sort of dating, yet we hadn’t actually gone out on any dates. We went to a couple parties with our friends, and we didn’t hide our affection from anyone, but the words boyfriend and girlfriend were never mentioned. There was still so much to get used to in this new routine that I didn’t want to jinx it by asking him about that.
That all changed when we went to see a local band play at a bar near campus. Peter’s birthday was a few days before Christmas, so he wasn’t quite twenty-one yet, but he was able to be up in the balcony where the underage crowd was restricted to watch the show.
The lack of drinks being served on the second floor didn’t keep drunk people from hanging out up there, though. Only a handful of our friends were with us that night, and everyone was scattered throughout the bar. I had gone to use the restroom while Peter talked to a guy he knew from class. When I returned, his friend was gone, and some girl I didn’t recognize was standing very close to him.
“Uh, thanks for the offer, but I’m here with someone,” I heard him tell her.
“I’m here with some friends too, but that’s all right,” she purred back at him.
I had no idea what the context of their conversation was, but I automatically assumed the worst.
“No, it’s really not,” he said.
She placed her hand on his shoulder, slowly dragging her fingers down his sculpted arm. “Why’s that? Do you have a girlfriend?”
“I…” he started, but she cut him off.
“Whatever,” she said flippantly, “I can guarantee that you’d have more fun with me tonight than anyone else in this entire bar.” Her tone was suggestive and demeaning, and I’d had enough.
I slid up against Peter’s other side, linking my arm in his and kissing his cheek quickly. “Hey, babe, wanna introduce me to your friend?”
He turned his face toward me, looking unsure of how to proceed. “Uh, this is… Well, shit, I don’t know your name,” he directed at the girl.
“Great!” I said mock-cheerfully, smiling at him before I glared at the girl. “Fuck off, slut,” I sneered. “I can guarantee that he’s coming home with me tonight.”
She just stared at my like a fish with her mouth hanging open while Peter stifled a laugh and pulled me away. We left the girl standing there, dumbfounded, and I playfully – and territorially – smacked his ass.
“Let’s go home,” he said with a smile.
“Sounds good to me.”
The walk to my apartment took twice as long as it should have, but we kept stopping to make out and do other playful, silly things. He told me how much he liked my possessive side, which I tried to play down. Eventually, he made me hop up on his back, and he gave me a piggyback ride the rest of the way.
We were still laughing when we got inside and he chased me to my bedroom. I fell back on my bed and he jumped on top of me. We wrestled around, kissing until I flipped him and straddled his waist. He touched and explored a few moments longer until I stopped and sat back on his thighs.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, reaching up to rub my forearms.
“Did it bother you that I chased that girl away? I mean, I didn’t really know if you wanted to talk to her, but I…I didn’t like it.”
He laughed heartily, moving his hands to my hips and pulling me farther up his legs. “Are you for real? I’m pretty sure I told you at least ten times how hot that was. I loved it.”
I smiled down at him, biting my lip and dropping my ass down against him. He groaned and bucked slightly.
“Just checking,” I said. “She had some pretty big boobs.”
“Yeah, nasty fake boobs to match her bleached hair,” he snarked.
“How do you know they were fake if you weren’t looking, hmmm, mister?” I asked semi-playfully.
He shook his head. “Seriously? She had cleavage up to her collarbone. That’s unnatural,” he grimaced. He reached up and stroked my cheek briefly before looking at me earnestly.
“So…what does that mean for us?” I swirled my finger on his stomach in a mindless pattern.
“You heard what she asked?”
“Umm…yeah.” I nodded.
His thumbs rubbed hard circles into my hips bones. “You want to be my girlfriend?”
I nodded again, whimpering at the way he was touching me. His hands slipped under the hem of my shirt and caressed my sides.
“You want me to be your boyfriend?” He scraped his fingernails up toward my ribs.
“Uhh…huh…” I stuttered, nodding a third time.
He pulled me down to him, kissing my neck until his lips were pressed to me ear. “I’ll be anything you want me to be, Angel. I’ve already told you that I want to be good for you. Let me be good…”
“You’re good…” I whimpered as his tongue flicked over my earlobe. His teeth clinked against my small hoop earring, causing me to shiver. “Oh, god…”
His mouth moved at a tediously slow pace toward mine, and when he finally kissed me, I couldn’t hold back. I pressed my entire body hard against his, biting his lower lip as I ground against him.
“Fuck,” he moaned, placing his hands on my ass to guide my movements. “You’re so damn hot, Bella,” he mumbled against my lips.
My forearms were pressed against the mattress beside his shoulders, so I pushed up to get a good look at him. His expression was blissful, pained, and excited all at once, and that made me work myself over him even harder. I was incredibly grateful that he was wearing khakis instead of jeans and that I was in my favorite stretchy black pants. I could feel how hard he was, and I continued to grind on him in a steady, hard rhythm. He raked his fingers up and down my back beneath my shirt, flicking open the clasp of my bra before he brought his hands around the front to touch me. His teasing, massaging motions made me move faster, and finally, he gave up on toying with me to hold me tightly.
He grunted and groaned, moving wildly beneath me. I wanted so much more of him, but his enthusiastic response to the way I rocked my hips made me hold fast to that position. The sensation was building for me too, so I pressed into him forcefully for several minutes until my entire body trembled and collapsed against him.
“Ungh…Peter!” I cried, forcing myself to continue so that he could come. His fingers dug into my ass, squeezing tightly until his pelvis lifted off the bed and held us as close as possible through our clothes.
We dramatically rolled away from one another, lying side by side on the bed and panting. After catching my breath, I scooted closer to him again and kissed his cheek. His head tipped sideways and our mouths met.
“Stay tonight?” I asked, rubbing up and down his chest.
“You couldn’t make me leave, even if you wanted to, Bella.”
No comments:
Post a Comment