Part 14 (1/2)

”That'd work, but no. I've got this naturally sweet thing going on.” He grins at me.

”You've got this naturally annoying thing going on. Have you been holding back for the past few weeks or what?”

”You've barely said two words to me since I took over for Tadwick. I thought you'd castrate me with the letter opener.”

I choke on my spit and hack up a lung, before saying, ”You did not think that!”

Peter shrugs and holds out his hand to the door, indicating that we should go. ”What about the cla.s.s?”

”There are directions on the desk. I'll come back later and pick up the papers.”

”What about the University? Seriously, Peter, I don't want you to lose your job.”

”I won't. I can have dinner with my students. It's not forbidden.” Peter's serious for a moment. ”I'll tell you what happened the other night. I owe it to you.”

He doesn't owe me anything, but I want to hear his story. I want to know what's wrong with him. I want to know what kind of guy doesn't have s.e.x with a girl that's already in his lap. There's something about Peter, something dark that's always just beneath the surface. Maybe that's why we get along so well. Maybe his life has sucked like mine.

Nodding slowly, I follow him out of the room.

CHAPTER 13

We go back to the same the restaurant as the night we met. It's fairly empty tonight. Between it being a weekday and the time, hardly anyone is here. The waiter seats us at the back of the room, on the far side of fireplace. I can't see the rest of the room from my seat. It helps me relax a little bit. Millie would never let me hear the end of it if she knew where I was.

Peter settles into his chair and we both order drinks. Peter sips some of the amber liquid from his gla.s.s, then says, ”About the night we met-”

I'm mid sip when he speaks. I shake my head and swallow my wine. ”Peter, don't. Really. That's not why I came.” I don't need to rehash that night.

”Then, why did you come?” Peter's serious, as if he doesn't know.

”Because I'm hungry...and maybe because I like you. I thought we already established this?” I smile at him, expecting Peter to go back to his light-hearted self.

Peter watches me as I raise the gla.s.s back to my lips. ”You're amazing.”

”I know, right?” I grin at him. ”I can hold a wine gla.s.s. Wahoo!” I hold up the gla.s.s by the stem and twirl it between my thumb and finger. The liquid inside swirls, but doesn't spill.

Peter smiles at me. The corners of his eyes crinkle when he does it, amused. ”That's not what I meant, but your gla.s.s holding technique is impeccable.”

I laugh. I don't know what it is, but there's something about Peter, something that puts me at ease. It's like I've known him forever, as if I could say anything and he'd understand. It makes no sense.

Our salads come out. The waiter puts them in front of us and then leaves. The food looks delicious.

Lifting my fork, I say, ”I didn't get to eat here last time. I sort of freaked out, and attacked the waiter.”

Peter holds a piece of lettuce on his fork and pauses. ”No way.”

”Way. My date had happy hands. I was trying to tolerate it, but I freaked out. It resulted in me jumping out of the booth like the place was on fire. I collided with that guy over there.” The same waiter is standing on the other side of the room at the bar. ”His tray fell over in slow motion. I'm pretty sure he's spitting in my food as they make it.”