Lost

  CHAPTER 6

  Saturday night I worked my shift at the restaurant, and returned home by 2:45 after staying to have drinks with Denise and a few of my friends after work. I stayed late and we broke every rule; from drinking after hours, to pouring from the bottles unmeasured. Drinking together, Denise wanted to know all about my new job, and she was a doll about me leaving her for only one shift a weekend.

  In my tipsy state, I told Denise and the girls about my new job, then I spilled about the Peter thing. I told them what he had done, and why I thought he was a freak, but just like Steven they didn't agree with me.

  Arguments were made about why I should chill the hell out, and why I should just screw Peter for his efforts. Denise whined about her fiancé Martin never buying her flowers again after their engagement and Cori whined about never once receiving flowers from her own boyfriend, ever, which I found sad.

  Basically, I was told to meet Peter with Steven secretly watching, enjoy the attention, see what he was really like and maybe even get laid for the first time in months after leaving Joseph. When they were through lecturing me on what I should wear for my date, we had one final shot as I laughed at my horny friends, and I finally took a taxi home.

  Crashing by 3:15am, I was absolutely exhausted from my weekend. I rarely got drunk, because I found drunk women to be fairly obnoxious, and I rarely drank to excess, but I had twice in one weekend. So I had pretty much met my partying quota for the coming 6 months.

  Finally, when I crawled into bed still drunk I couldn’t help but think of Peter. Slowly, through all the conversations with the girls and with Steven earlier, I allowed myself to open up to the possibility of Peter. I stopped the decision of never going to happen, instead deciding on a we’ll see what happens mentality. I figured the worst that could happen was I didn’t like him at lunch and I left with a friendly acceptance that he wasn’t for me.

  *****

  When I was ready just before I left, I called Steven to cancel his secret chaperoning since I felt fairly safe at the pub in the daytime. Plus, I didn’t think I could keep a straight face if I knew my brother was watching us. And I really didn’t think Steven would behave during the lunch, which would probably make me laugh throughout like I was insane.

  So walking to Murphy's at 11:45 alone, I was freezing cold but excited. I found myself almost anxious to get the lunch over with so I could put it behind me once and for all. I wanted to know one way or the other how it was going to go, because I had thought about it to death.

  Opening the pub doors, my slightly hung over brain was quickly assaulted with sound as I tried to adjust to the sudden darkness inside which replaced the snow covered brightness from outside. Taking in the room, I spotted Peter immediately when he stood up from a corner booth to greet me with a warm smile.

  “Sophie... You look beautiful,” he said immediately as I approached.

  “Thank you,” I smiled as I removed my black leather coat and red mittens and scarf.

  Hanging everything on the hook to the side of the booth, I knew Peter got an awesome ass shot which I was okay with because I had dressed casually, but to impress. I wore my knee high black leather boots, skin tight dark jeans and a loose, low neck red sweater. I knew I looked good, without looking like I was trying too hard to look good.

  Taking him in when I sat down, neither of us spoke immediately which was awkward, but not overly so. It was like we each knew we were checking the other out casually, but blatantly.

  Looking at Peter, I realized he was better looking than I had originally thought. He was a little plain looking, but taking him in as he looked back at me silently, I found myself strangely attracted to his plain features. He had lovely blue eyes, brown hair, full lips and pale skin. He looked very average, but he hand an aura around him that seemed anything but.

  Wearing a black pageboy cap, and a green bomber type jacket, Peter didn't look like he was trying too hard to impress me either, which strangely relaxed me further.

  “Thank you for all the roses this week, but you really shouldn't have. It was a little much, though I appreciated it,” I said to break the silence between us.

  “It was my pleasure. I just wish I could’ve seen your face when you received them, especially on Friday when they were late,” he grinned. “Did you think I had forgotten to send them, or that I had given up already?”

  Smiling, I nodded. “Yes, I figured you’d given up the chase quickly, and yes I was thrilled when they finally arrived at 4:00. How did you get my home address to send the flowers yesterday?” I asked figuring it was best to get the creepy question out of the way before continuing.

  “I saw you leaving Drinks Friday night with someone, so I made sure you were safe when I saw you and him stumbling down the street together. I didn't know which apartment was yours though until I walked in after you and saw S. Morley on the 2nd unit nameplate. I guessed you were S. Morley but that's why I wrote Sophie on the envelope, in case I was wrong so one of your neighbors would pass along the flowers to you.”

  “How do you know I wasn't walking to my boyfriend’s place?” I asked testing him.

  “I didn't. But you didn't call me again all week to tell me to stop because you had a boyfriend, so I assumed it was safe,” he said smiling.

  “How did you see me at Drinks? We're you following me?” I asked a little aggressively with my elbows on the table trying to read his face.

  “Nope. I was across the street at O'Sheys with my sister who was having a smoke outside when I spotted you. It was a complete coincidence, I promise. Plus, I'm not really a stalker,” he said leaning back against the booth casually while motioning for the waitress.

  Looking at Peter casually moving on from my questions made me realize I believed him. His answers made sense because O'Sheys was right across the street, and it was always packed on Friday nights, but I still needed more.

  “Okay, so why am I here?”

  When Peter paused for a moment and looked at me kind of sadly after my question, I was truly uncomfortable with the way I felt. I didn’t like the sad look aimed at me and I certainly didn’t like the feeling of being inspected by Peter.

  “So we can talk, eat lunch, and maybe get to know each other better.” Again he was answering so casually he put me at ease and he made me feel a little bitchy.

  “Why me?”

  “Why not you?” He countered, and I was stumped.

  I wanted to say a variety of answers that sounded a little pathetic, which I wasn’t. I wanted to remind him he thought I was a poser at the health food store, and I wanted to say because we had met twice, and he was acting weird with all the flowers and the notebook. I didn't know what I wanted to say, but his straightforwardness was causing me to lose my edge around him.

  “I don't know why not. You just seem a little forward or something.”

  Exhaling, Peter almost took my hand but stopped just short to awkwardly hold a napkin on the table instead.

  “Well, I knew I had unintentionally offended you the first time we spoke. And if you hadn't been leaving Sunshine and Life I would’ve had time to stop back in to show you I wasn't an asshole until I could ask you out to lunch. But since you were leaving I thought I'd send you flowers instead, which obviously worked because you're here,” Peter answered without sounding arrogant at all.

  Seconds later, the waitress arrived and I ordered a coffee before Peter ordered a BLT. After pushing me to have something to eat, he finally stopped when I insisted on just coffee, adding I wasn’t hungry which was another lie. I was starving after my night drinking, but I didn’t want to commit to a set amount of time with Peter. I felt like I needed the easy escape of just coffee between us.

  Smiling, as he waited for the waitress to leave, Peter totally surprised me by asking, “How was work?”

  “Awesome,” I replied honestly. “I have a lot to learn, but I think I'm going to love it. And it's exactly what I want and what I went to school for, so I feel good about it,” I answe
red quickly.

  “And the people?”

  “They were great, why?”

  “Just curious. I want to know about you,” he answered calmly again.

  “Well, I'm fairly private, so why don't you tell me about you,” I countered as my coffee was placed in front of me.

  “Okay...” He grinned at my deflection. “I’m 31. I have 2 parents still together, and I have 2 sisters, both older and married with families of their own. I work for a steel company sending out reusable metals to smaller companies to utilize and recycle. And I'm single. I've never been married, though I came close once. Well, close in that we were engaged, not close in terms of an actual wedding date. I draw in my spare time and I have a huge herb garden in my backyard which I use to make my own herbal soaps, detergents, hand lotions and hand cleansers, but I turn my backyard into a closed greenhouse all winter. I own my own home which I struggled to pay for each month when I bought it at 23, but I don't struggle with the mortgage any longer. And I drive a pink car,” and when I suddenly smiled he continued. “Yes, pink. I got it for a bargain from my sister, and couldn’t refuse it even though the color is a bit much. I tend to walk everywhere however, so I rarely drive it.”

  Then after a moment of pause, Peter finished with, “And I'm fairly relaxed overall. Good?” He asked smiling while leaning back against the booth waiting for me to digest his information.

  Staring at Peter in silence, I was starting to really like him the longer he spoke.

  “Why did your engagement end? Who ended it?” I practically whispered.

  “That's what you question?” He smirked. “Okay. Patricia and I were together for a few years, 20 to 23, and we were engaged by 22. We were just so awesome together that we didn't realize we were no longer a young couple in love. Somehow we had become best friends who finished each other's sentences but there was no spark between us. We held hands out of habit not because we wanted to hold each other. So Patricia brought up our fading relationship first before I had the balls to do it, and I agreed with her totally. After our talk we tried harder, almost forcing intimacy that wasn't really there. We tried with sex, and little gestures, and overall communication, but 6 months later sitting at the dinner table of her parents’ house we started talking about it again and realized nothing had changed or felt better. We were a cliché. We loved each other but weren't in love anymore,” he smiled sadly.

  “So that night, right at the kitchen table, we figured out how we could break up without freaking anyone out. And we were okay, though admittedly I cried once and she cried a few times, but overall we were okay with breaking up. When we told our families, her parents understood, and my parents were sad but understood. After that night we just ended everything until the phone calls slowly stopped and we stopped seeing each other over time completely. But we really were fine somehow.”

  Nodding my head silently, I waited so he would continue past my silence, desperately wanting to hear the rest of his story.

  “A few months later Patricia saw me with another woman and she was jealous, so she called me and we had a good long talk. But it turned out she was more insecure than jealous. She was still single and hated that I might have moved on quicker than she did, which made her think she must have lacked something I had needed, hence her insecurity. So we talked, I reaffirmed how amazing she was and we moved on again. And that's what we did for 3 years. We called each other every few months, checked in, made sure everything was okay, then we hung up for another few months. And 2 years ago Patricia called me and told me she was getting married and I was invited to her wedding which I went to with a date and we were good again,” he smiled.

  “Her husband is a terrific guy and he shook my hand, invited me over for dinner, which I went to, and we all had a great time. I've spoken to her a few times this year as friends, with her husband in the background yelling she’s a pain in the ass and for me to come over and take her back, joking of course. So that's it. That's how Patricia and I were engaged, but never close to marriage, and how we ended up as friends,” he smiled a little and stopped.

  Looking at his sandwich which had been placed in front of him while he spoke to me, Peter seemed to be in a different place for a moment, so I let him be. I knew that place well- the one where you say what's expected of you but you feel like there's something else inside you that you wish you could say as well.

  After a bite of his sandwich, Peter's focus turned back to me, and he asked me if I wanted a bite of his sandwich, which I did. Unbelievably, I leaned over the table as Peter brought the sandwich up for me to bite.

  Laughing at myself, I was embarrassed as I chewed. “I have no idea what prompted that. Other than my brother, I don't think I've ever taken a bite of someone's sandwich before. I'm sorry,” I mumbled while chewing with my hand hiding my mouth.

  “No problem. It was kind of sexy, though I would have preferred strawberries or something equally as juicy to lick off your chin. But it was sexy nonetheless,” he grinned, making me laugh again.

  Standing up, he walked to the bar and came back with another coffee for me and a glass of water for himself. Once back, he laid a napkin down and put the uneaten half sandwich in front of me, telling me to please eat with a gentle tone.

  “Your turn. Tell me about you,” he smirked at my groan.

  “I'm 24, with only one brother, a twin brother actually. My parents are alive and well and disgustingly in love with each other which is pretty awe-inspiring, but gross for Steven and I to watch. I lived in the same house since birth until I moved out. And I'm the better twin,” I said with a wink. “I have friends, a nice apartment, and now my career is starting, so I feel pretty happy right now.”

  Nodding, Peter asked, “Have you felt pretty unhappy not now?”

  “What…? No, I've been fine. Why?”

  “It was just the way you said you feel pretty happy right now, it sounded like you've felt unhappy before.”

  “No, I've always been very happy and secure in life. I know exactly who I am and what I want. So, no, I've never been unhappy.”

  “Really? Wow. You’re amazing then,” he looked up as the waitress placed another BLT in front of us, which Peter again split, placing half on his own plate while pushing the new plate toward me.

  “I don't know what you mean,” I said a little shaken again by his candor.

  Staring right into my eyes, Peter said softly, “You are very beautiful Sophie.” What? My head was spinning. “You're like the perfect package- intelligent, highly motivated, blonde, great body, green eyes-”

  “Blue eyes,” I corrected. It was such a surreal moment for me I couldn't believe I interrupted him.

  “Your blue irises have amber in them making them appear green in this lighting. So to me they'll always be green. I really want to hold your face in my palm,” he whispered. Pausing again after he spoke, all I thought as he stared at me was what the hell?

  Confused, we looked at each other until he finally did just that. Lifting and moving his hand to my face he gently cupped my cheek, and I actually found myself looking at him as my head tilted for a better fit in his palm. Who the hell I was in that moment I didn't know.

  “You're so warm,” he whispered.

  “I know. I'm always like a furnace.” I actually said furnace like an idiot which almost made me laugh at myself again.

  “Tell me what you love,” he asked suddenly as he moved his hand back to his glass of water.

  “What I love? Um, my family and friends, my job, my brother, I don't know. What do you mean?”

  “I mean what do you love? Coffee? Flowers? Puppies? Moonlit walks? Music? Poetry? What do you love?”

  As I stared at Peter, honest to god, part of me wanted to say him in that exact moment. But obviously I wouldn't dare, and I didn't really. There was just something so unreal about him, he acted like no other man I had ever known. He was like no other man I had ever known. There was something so intriguing about Peter that I found myself feeling an inter
nal pull toward him. My body was actually humming with the excitement I felt for him.

  “I love many things. I don't know. My brother mostly, I guess,” I looked at Peter as he prompted me to go on with a head nod. “I love music, sure, but not country. I only like a few poets, but I love Leonard Cohen for some strange reason, especially his novel Beautiful Losers though I don't like his music as much. I love candles and candle holders, a little too much actually. You should see my place,” I grinned. “And I love watching life and participating in it whenever I can.” I said, thinking at the time what a weird thing to say.

  “You're so beautiful, Sophie,” he said again and I suddenly felt annoyed.

  “So you've said. I know, my perfect fake nails and my highlighted hair are beautiful. I get it.”

  “Um, no, though you look very nice, that isn't what I meant at all. When you said you enjoyed watching life and participating whenever you could, I thought you sounded beautiful. You sound like an old soul wrapped in a gorgeous package. I wasn't trying to offend you; the opposite actually. I wanted you to know I found your words beautiful.”

  Exhaling again, I knew I sounded like an idiot, so I tried to fix it.

  “You didn't offend me, I'm sorry. My looks are just annoying to me. I’ve found myself over the years trying to overcompensate my looks with anything and everything I could intellectually, so people didn't assume I was a moron. My looks are a hang up for me, which sounds stupid I know, but they just are. My parents made Steven and I work for everything we had, no shortcuts ever. So when people assume I had it easy, or maybe used my looks to get ahead, I feel insulted and almost defensive. I can honestly say I don't care about looks at all. I've never been attracted to a man who was simply good looking, because I feel like looks don't count or something in a relationship. Um, I can't explain it.”