Damaged

Page 22

I think I know.
I glance at Peter. I’m staring at the side of his face, drinking in the stubble along his jaw and the way his dark hair curls by his ears. His skin is so perfect, and his eyes—oh God—his eyes are like gemstones. When I look at them, it’s as if I’m lost in a beautiful blue cavern covered in sparkling sapphires. And for once in my life, I feel safe. I don’t worry about him hurting me, or touching me, or forcing me.
I don’t realize how long I’m watching him until Peter turns and looks at me. He smiles softly and it feels like I’m in a free-fall. My stomach floats up to my mouth and I can’t speak.
Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. My eyes are a little too wide when I look back out the windshield. My brain is chanting no, over and over again, as if it will erase the discovery my mind just made. My heart laughs. As if these things can be undone, as if it’s possible to fall out of love as easily as it is to fall in love.
I love him? That can’t be.
I deny it. That’s not what’s happening. It can’t be. I don’t love him. That’s insane. I don’t even know him.
But you do, that sweet reassuring voice says in the back of my head. I beat her with a broom and stuff her in a closet. She’s usually the sane voice in my mind. I would have sworn that she is my reason, but that was not reasonable. I don’t know Peter, not like that. I don’t want to. I can’t—
My frantic thoughts get cut off when Peter pulls into the parking lot. I’m panicking. Things aren’t the same as they were two seconds ago. I realized that I have feelings for the guy sitting next to me. Maybe I’m dense as a dinosaur for not noticing—damn, everyone else noticed—but I don’t know what to do now. Act the same? Pretend the thought never crossed my mind?
I take too long to get out of the car. Peter walks around to open my door.
“What are you doing?” I ask, as he offers his hand and pulls me up from my seat. Peter’s looking down at me with those eyes. I forget to breathe.
He stands too close. I step away, and back into the car. Peter steps closer, closing the gap. He’s close enough to touch me, but he doesn’t. His eyes sweep over me before he asks, “Don’t you want to know what I think?”
I shake my head slowly, careful to avoid his gaze, and tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. “No.” My voice is too soft. Damn it. It sounds like a yes. I clear my throat and try again. I have to look up. I know I have to do it. Just say it. Spit it out as if it doesn’t matter, because once he tells me what he thinks, I won’t be able to let it go. I don’t want things to change. What we have is good.
Looking directly into his eyes, I smile and say, “I don’t want to know what you think. I don’t feel that way about you.” The lie burns my tongue.
He doesn’t back away. Instead, Peter stays there, watching me. He leans close to my ear, and says, “I think you’re beautiful, and that sharp tongue of yours…. God, I’ve never wanted to kiss a woman so much in my life. I will kiss you tonight. I won’t be able to help myself.” I shiver as he speaks. When Peter pulls away, my body is tense. My spine is stiff and my head is spinning like I’m falling down a rabbit hole.
“I don’t know what to say.” I’m watching him, barely breathing. My eyes are locked on his lips, wondering if he’ll really do it.
Peter runs his hand along my cheek; his eyes are on my mouth. “Then, don’t say anything.” He turns and walks away. He’s crossing the parking lot. I stand there, watching him head inside. When he pulls the door open, he looks back at me. “Coming, Colleli?”
Peter’s screwing with me. He has to be messing with me. I blow off everything he just did and walk confidently across the parking lot. Screw him. Two can at play this game.
Peter’s holding the door open. I turn to the side as I pass him, sucking in air. We’re too close. I do it on purpose. My chest barely brushes against his as I pass. The sensation shoots way too many tingles through me, but I know he feels it, too. The way he stops breathing and looks up tells me that it was completely unexpected.
“Excuse me,” I say, way too breathily, before stepping away. Peter’s lips are parted. His shoulders are back, rigid. I turn toward the hostess station with a wicked grin. Peter is still sucking in air like he’s been kicked in the stomach. “Table for two, please.”
Peter suddenly moves and steps toward me. I feel the heat from his body against my back. He whispers in my ear, “That was evil.”
“You started it,” I say over my shoulder, smiling.
We follow the hostess to the same table we always sit at. It’s our table. How did that happen? Peter steps in front of the girl and pulls out my chair and I sit down. The hostess stands there, waiting to hand us menus. Peter pushes me toward the table gently, and then takes his seat opposite me. His eyes glitter with mirth. He has a smug half grin on his face. For a brief second, his eyes drop to my lips. It makes me squirm in my chair. I can’t believe he said that before. He was teasing me. He had to be.
“So,” Peter says.
“So.” My voice catches in my throat.
The way he’s looking at me, as if he wants to kiss me until my knees give out and I fall into his arms, makes me flustered. I don’t understand him. We’ve been hanging around each other since he arrived. Aside from the first night, Peter hasn’t overtly done anything. Has he? I suddenly feel stupid. What if all the flirting was real? I assumed it wasn’t. I thought he was teasing. Is Peter crazy enough to try and be with me, even if it costs him his job? He’s a new teacher. That would be incredibly stupid, damning the rest of his career. So what is he thinking? I have no idea.
I start to open my mouth to tell him that we can’t do anything like that—no kissing, no nothing—when I see her walk past the fireplace. Dr. Strictland’s face lights up when she sees Peter. “Dr. Granz, Miss Colleli. What a pleasant surprise.” She’s wearing a rich crimson suit that makes her hair look Annie orange.
“Cyianna,” Peter says, “how nice to see you. Won’t you join us?”
She shakes her head. “No, I came in here to grab a dinner and go over some papers for my graduate students.” She smiles at us and then looks at me. “I heard you were assisting the new dancing club.”
“I am. We were just there. Dr. Granz is the sponsor.”
She looks at both of us. “I see.” She says it as though she really sees something. Strictland looks back at Peter. “You know what; I think I will join you. I’ve worked hard enough and it’s been a long day.” The hostess brings another chair and Dr. Strictland sits down next to me. She pats my knee and I nearly jump out of my seat. She gives me a funny look. “Sorry, dear.”
“It’s okay,” I lie. I hate being touched. My gaze lifts. There’s an exception to that rule. Peter somehow got around it. I smile nervously, wondering if we’re going to get in trouble, but Strictland doesn’t say anything about us being here together.
The meal progresses normally. We all know each other. The subject matter flips between the university, the department, classes, and then to literature.
Just when I think Strictland’s not going to mention it, she does. “I hate to ruin a friendship or make things awkward between the two of you, but certain things have come to my attention.”
Peter smiles and shakes his head, “Cyianna—”
“Peter, I know you well enough to realize that you won’t do anything stupid. But you’re young and Miss Colleli is younger. You both have roles to play, expectations to fulfill. Friendship is encouraged, but nothing more. I only see friendship here, and for both of your sakes, I hope it stays that way.
“Sidney, I don’t need to remind you about your scholarship. The university will not pay you to retake classes due to sexual indiscretion.” Oh my God. Did she just say that? My face burns. I manage to nod. “And Peter, you already know the severity of this. I hope I won’t have to mention it again.”
“You didn’t have to mention it now,” Peter says evenly.
Strictland watches him for a moment. She pats her napkin to her lips and places it on her plate. “You’ve been through more than most people, Peter. I consider myself a fair person. Let me be blunt. This arrangement that you have with your student looks wrong. You were dancing with her and then took her for dinner at one of the nicest establishments in town. According the hostess, they have seen the two of you here before—several times. Propriety has a look and this is not it. I don’t want to see or hear about anything like this again. Consider this a polite warning, Dr. Granz. I apologize for ruining your evening, but it had to be stated.” She stands, nods at us both, and then walks away.
CHAPTER 18
I glance at Peter, but he doesn’t look back at me. The consequences have been spelled out. If we keep this up, we both lose everything. The lump in my throat feels like a sugar cube. It won’t move. It’s just stuck. I want to say something to Peter, make him smile again, but it’s as though someone blew out the light in his eyes.
I can’t stand the silence any more. “We’re just friends, Peter. She knows that. So, we don’t eat here anymore.” I try to make light of it.
Peter looks up at me. His lips are parted, as though he can’t believe what I just I said. “Don’t lie to me, Sidney. I know you. This may be friendship, but there’s more to it than that. Everyone can see it. I know you see it. I wish you’d admit it. At least, then we could decide what to do together.” He pauses and then shakes his head when I don’t say anything. “Are you so messed up that you don’t even recognize your own feelings anymore?”
His words feel like a slap. I stiffen and look away.
I love him. I know I love him. Those words pierce my heart. My jaw twitches. I want to say it. I want to tell him that it’s so much more than he thinks, but I’m afraid that he’ll run. Maybe Peter’s infatuated, but I’m not.