Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 84930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Because I’m a cool guy. The entire world wants to get to know me, and here I am, nervous to be on a date with my ex-girlfriend.
We’ve had sex.
I’ve seen her naked.
I’ve seen her cry.
“This isn’t awkward at all,” she jokes, picking up the glass of wine when it’s set in front of her and sipping from it, eyes watching me from over the brim, berry red lips leaving a stain on the edge of the glass.
“Is this awkward? I hadn’t noticed.”
Good, we’re bantering.
This is good. This is good.
It was better than I’d hoped for because I hadn’t known what kind of woman Penelope had grown into, so it’s nice to see that she has a sense of humor. A rude, snotty bitchy one? A label whore? The uptight, conservative type?
She had not looked glad to see me on her brother’s doorstep in any which way.
Penelope is staring at me in a way that people usually don’t look at me. As if she’s staring at my face to memorize every line and detail. Is it because she hasn’t seen me in so long? Is it because she’s trying to reconcile the differences between the boy I used to be and the man I’ve become?
In any case, I feel like I’m under a microscope, though not in a negative way.
I feel like she appreciates what she’s seeing and wants to drink in every detail of me.
“So. You looked surprised to see me yesterday.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“Really? How so?”
“I mean, who opens the door to someone else’s house and expects to see their college boyfriend there?”
College boyfriend. First boyfriend.
The guy she lost her virginity to.
“I really didn’t mean to freak you out. I know I could have slid into your messenger or something, but you know how that is. I didn’t know if you’d see it if you had social media or whatever.”
“And you thought showing up at my house was the easiest way to go about it?” She chuckles, taking a sip of wine. “My brother’s house, I mean. Gosh, and you were so close, too.”
“So close? What do you mean?”
“I live next door. In the house next door.”
“To your brother?”
“Yes.” She takes another sip of wine, and if she doesn’t slow down, she’ll need another glass and a ride home. “The house directly next door. Sometimes it sucks, but most days, it’s awesome.”
“Wow. You must be doing well.”
She gives her head a little shake. “Not really. He bought it when he was in the pros and thought it would be cozy to keep us close by. Me close by.” Penelope sets her wineglass down, pushes it away from her body, and straightens her spine. “One house over and you wouldn’t have had to leave your letter with my bro.”
Her bro. “Dude looked so confused.”
I sit up straighter too, righting the napkin on my lap and picking up the menu to peruse over the starters, giving the landscape below us a cursory glance.
The sight is breathtaking.
It’s a shame this isn’t a romantic date because the view is stunning, the lighting dim, the atmosphere quite…magical, if I’m being honest. Not to sound poetic or anything.
“I’ve never been here,” Penn tells me, chin in her hand and staring down into the dark cityscape dreamily. “It’s gorgeous.”
She is gorgeous, but I don’t say so. I don’t want to be weird.
Showing up unannounced was weird enough and crossing boundaries. I don’t want to make her feel any more awkward than this already is.
Clearing my throat, I go back to looking at the appetizers, giving the bread basket a brief glance as it gets set in the center of the table.
My stomach growls.
“Do you want any appetizers? I really love calamari or even a crab cake, but I’ll leave it up to you.”
This isn’t a date, but I want her to have what she wants. I mean, we’re all dressed up, so we might as well enjoy ourselves. It wasn’t originally my intention to bring her somewhere so fancy, but the second I saw her—the moment I laid eyes on her beautiful face yesterday, the one I used to love with all my heart—I made reservations here.
All previous plans for something a bit more casual flew out the window.
“Sure, I always love a good appetizer.”
I remember that about her. She still always orders calamari and crab cakes. Even though we didn’t have a lot of money in college, we would make it a point to taste test the calamari and crab cakes anywhere we went. Her favorite thing to dip them in was always a marinara and ranch, but this doesn’t seem like the type of place that will bring us cups of salad dressing to dip our appetizers in.
She sets down the menu.
If her look was saying anything, it’s saying you remembered. Even though she’s not moving her lips, her eyes are speaking volumes, and they’re wide right now as they regard me from across the table, her hands tucked away on her lap where I can’t see them.