My Calamity
Chapter Sixteen
I watched her walk away.
Red hair swinging back and forth with each step.
I closed my eyes momentarily. Was this really happening again? I was starting to think maybe Penelope wasn't worth all the trouble. But I knew she was. I knew she was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life. She was the one there was no way around that. Nothing in this world would change it.
Why couldn't she see that?
I was angry. I was so angry with her. What was she playing? Why did she feel the need to jerk me around? Maybe I could get over her if it hadn't seemed like she liked me back. She might not have realized it, but I did. She liked me.
With that thought in mind, I began walking after her. I was seething, now, tallying every event that had occurred between us, and how she'd passed it off. My hands were clenched at my sides, the muscles in my neck taut. I followed her footsteps in the sand towards the west side of the beach, and found her sitting under the pier, where we'd been when we'd gone to the beach, feet dug in the sand, her red hair draping over her shoulders like a curtain.
She looked up at me as I walked up to her, and immediately any emotion that was evident on her face disappeared. For a moment, it was just silence, until she finally spoke, "What did you think of the ceremony?" Her voice was dry, and if I didn't know any better, a bit disdainful too.
Her questioned made the anger in me rise to breaking point. "Don't do that," I snapped, watching her expression change to confusion at my words. This only angered me further. "I hate when you do that."
"Do what?" she asked softly, her words disappearing in the wind.
"That thing you always do. Pretending nothing happened. You acted like I wasn't going to kiss you in the kitchen, when I was. You acted like I hadn't asked you out that day, when I had. You acted like there was nothing between us at the beach, and when I was going to kiss you in the kitchen you completely blew it off. You're always pretending. You put on that mask, and act like everything's alright. Well, it's not alright, Penelope. It's not alright."
Penelope sat there just staring at me and for a moment I kind of regretted blowing up on her, and then she did it. Again. She stood up, her expression becoming clouded, and said, "I should go." She went to walk by me, and I don't know what made me do it. Maybe it was my anger, maybe it was just Penelope. I don't know.
But I grabbed her and I kissed her.
And then I opened my eyes and it was just Penelope and me - nothing anywhere but Penelope and me - her pressing her lips together as though she were keeping my kiss inside her, and me, holding this moment that was as fragile as a bird in my hands.
Red hair swinging back and forth with each step.
I closed my eyes momentarily. Was this really happening again? I was starting to think maybe Penelope wasn't worth all the trouble. But I knew she was. I knew she was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life. She was the one there was no way around that. Nothing in this world would change it.
Why couldn't she see that?
I was angry. I was so angry with her. What was she playing? Why did she feel the need to jerk me around? Maybe I could get over her if it hadn't seemed like she liked me back. She might not have realized it, but I did. She liked me.
With that thought in mind, I began walking after her. I was seething, now, tallying every event that had occurred between us, and how she'd passed it off. My hands were clenched at my sides, the muscles in my neck taut. I followed her footsteps in the sand towards the west side of the beach, and found her sitting under the pier, where we'd been when we'd gone to the beach, feet dug in the sand, her red hair draping over her shoulders like a curtain.
She looked up at me as I walked up to her, and immediately any emotion that was evident on her face disappeared. For a moment, it was just silence, until she finally spoke, "What did you think of the ceremony?" Her voice was dry, and if I didn't know any better, a bit disdainful too.
Her questioned made the anger in me rise to breaking point. "Don't do that," I snapped, watching her expression change to confusion at my words. This only angered me further. "I hate when you do that."
"Do what?" she asked softly, her words disappearing in the wind.
"That thing you always do. Pretending nothing happened. You acted like I wasn't going to kiss you in the kitchen, when I was. You acted like I hadn't asked you out that day, when I had. You acted like there was nothing between us at the beach, and when I was going to kiss you in the kitchen you completely blew it off. You're always pretending. You put on that mask, and act like everything's alright. Well, it's not alright, Penelope. It's not alright."
Penelope sat there just staring at me and for a moment I kind of regretted blowing up on her, and then she did it. Again. She stood up, her expression becoming clouded, and said, "I should go." She went to walk by me, and I don't know what made me do it. Maybe it was my anger, maybe it was just Penelope. I don't know.
But I grabbed her and I kissed her.
And then I opened my eyes and it was just Penelope and me - nothing anywhere but Penelope and me - her pressing her lips together as though she were keeping my kiss inside her, and me, holding this moment that was as fragile as a bird in my hands.