Damaged Part 14

"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."

Peter's smile fades. "Why were you trying to tolerate a guy touching you?"

I shrug and stab my salad. "Because I want to be normal. In case you haven't noticed, I'm kind of messed up."

Peter gives me a somber look. "Actually, I did notice that you're kind of abnormal. For one, you have abnormally large eyes. They sparkle way too much. And that mouth of yours-well, let's just say that it's obviously defective." Peter smirks and picks up his fork.

"Shut up." I smile at him and shake my head.

Peter grins at me and waves his fork around as he speaks. "Being normal is overrated. Normal gets you what-the dolt husband with the 2.5 kids and the house with the dog? You seriously want that? I mean, one of those kids is going to be really funny looking, by the way, all cut in half like that. Who wants half a kid?"

I smile, but it fades quickly. I'm talking to Peter as if I know him, as if I've always known him. I don't worry about what he'll think. He won my respect and most of my trust in the cla.s.sroom earlier. He didn't judge me. He didn't blame me. I haven't had a friend like that before, well, not a guy. Most of the time, I keep my mouth shut around guys. I don't want them to know me or what happened. I don't want to deal with it. Somehow Peter has helped me deal with it, and the emotions that were crippling me earlier have vanished. I don't know how he does it.

"I don't really know what I want anymore. I used to. But that wasn't what I meant by normal. Ever since it happened," I swallow hard and pause way too long. "Let's just say I have issues. I can't get close to anyone. I kind of thought that if I forced it, that things would get better." I don't look at him. I tried to force myself to have s.e.x with him the night we met. He's hot and nice to touch, but my heart wasn't in it.

Peter's face pinches together. He doesn't understand. "You thought if you slept with someone that you didn't really like that you'd get over what happened to you?"

I flick my eyes up. "Well, when you say it, it sounds stupid."

Peter's staring at me with his mouth hanging open. "It is stupid."

"Wow, that was blunt." I poke my salad and shove it into my mouth.

"Sometimes blunt is better. So tell me, after you let this guy defile you, what happens next? You let him do it again?"

I stare at him. Good question, although it makes me wiggle in my seat. I stare at my salad for too long, but I feel Peter's eyes on me. His gaze is so intense. I shake it off. Peter starts eating again.

"I don't know," I say. "I thought it would help erase things. You know, push the memories that suck further back in my mind. There hasn't been anyone since him. I thought it would help."

Peter stops eating. His eyes are too wide. He looks at me strangely. His voice is low. "Is that what you were doing with me?" I don't answer. Peter smiles at me and shakes his head. He pushes the salad away and leans back in his chair. "Okay, I'm going to level with you." He presses his lips together into a thin line and then lets out a huff of air. His hands are on the table. His index finger is tapping the table top, nervously. "I was doing the same thing."

I tilt my head and say, "Yeah, right."

He smiles crookedly at me. "I'm not what they'd call balanced."

"Who's they?"

"I don't know," he shrugs. "Everyone. My mom, dad, sister, cousins, and other people who know me. I accepted this job and took off. They think I'm going to fall apart, especially after what happened." He lifts the amber liquid to his lips and drinks the rest in a single swig.

Peter sets the gla.s.s down. His eyes don't focus on me or anything else. It's like he's lost in a memory. "We-me and Gina-were in New York, seeing the stuff for Christmas. We went to Radio City and then to dinner. Afterward, it was late. She was ready to leave, but I wanted to go to Rockefeller Center. I wanted to get down on one knee under the tree and ask her to marry me."

He smiles. It nearly breaks my heart. I know that smile. It's a memory that's tainted, something that should have been happy but didn't turn out that way. I feel the weight of his story, the way he can barely say the words. He coughs and his eyes flick to mine. "I talked her into going. I was so excited. I couldn't wait to ask her. I didn't want to come back the next day. I wanted to do it at night, when the tree was lit. Gina loved Christmastime. I knew she'd love it.

"So, we get there and the place is pretty empty. It's late. While Gina was looking at the tree, I pulled out the ring. There were some people on the other side of the tree, but they couldn't see us. I kneeled and held up the ring." He breathes hard. The lines in his forehead crease. I can see the pain of this memory playing out across his face as if it's happening now. I want him to stop. Saying the words sounds like it's breaking him. I want to reach out and take his hand, but I'm frozen.

Peter looks up at me. His smile twists. "You're better at this than me. I've had a year to deal with this, but I still can't even say it."