My Calamity

"You know, you can kiss me," I whispered. "I'm not going to break."

The movie was playing in the background but my heart was drowning out the sound. A cold chill ran up my spine causing a breakout of goose flesh along my arms. Skittles and popcorn were fresh on my taste buds, and all I could smell was Patrick's cologne, not overbearing but just the right amount for a slow intoxication.

I felt him shift in his leather seat, and very carefully he placed his hand on the side of my face, as though he was convinced I would break. His nose pressed against mine very slowly, taunting me, and my heart beat kicked into full throttle.

"You're so annoying," I told him quietly as my eyes began to droop, and his face became a blur. I felt his laugh vibrate through me, though it was soft, and knew he was smiling. We'd already been shushed numerous times during the movie by a family a few rows down from us. Situated in the highest corner, we had a four-seater to ourselves and were, for the most part, secluded from everyone else.

I felt his lips brush mine ever so carefully, feeling as though they were not there at all, and I couldn't help but wonder why he was so careful with me. The first few days into our relationship chaste kisses were cute, understandable, but now I wanted more, something fiery, and passionate. It made me ill to think that the psychical attraction in the relationship was one-sided.

"Let's watch the movie," Patrick dismissed me, his eyes looking everywhere but my face, as he confirmed my fears. There was a part me, the rational part that told I was over-reacting, but as I shifted in my seat and attempted to focus on the movie I knew the irrational part of me had won over.

When the movie ended and the credits began to roll, I set down the half-filled bowl of popcorn and stood up, stretching as I did so, feeling the hem of my dress rise. Patrick wasn't looking at me though, and it gave me this sinking feeling that maybe he didn't think I was attractive.

Swallowing the gut-wrenching feeling, I slipped my bag over my shoulder and picked up my garbage, following Patrick out of the aisle into the crowd. His silence didn't put me at ease either; on the contrary, it did the opposite. My mind was going over a million different scenarios of how he was going to break up with me, which I knew was over-blown but was still unable to stop.

"Do you wanna' go to the boardwalk?" Patrick asked me in a voice that was distant, and told me he didn't really want to go to the boardwalk. I nodded my head nevertheless, wondering if that was where he was going to break up with me. I don't know why I was so sure he was going to break up with me, I just was. It was kind of like knowing the sun was going to rise in the morning, or that fire would always burn.

We took the car to the almost empty parking lot and from there walked down to the boardwalk, where we moved in sync beside the beach listening to the laugher of nearby couples. I felt Patrick's fingers brush mine before he laced our hands together sending my stomach into a fit of spasms. It angered me slightly, that he would do something like that when he was about to break up with me (I was positive he was going to break up with me), and before I could stop myself, possibly think over my choice of words, I cried, "Say it already!"

Patrick didn’t stop walking like I expected him to, and he seemed forcefully casual, maybe even a bit nervous as he asked, "Say what?"

I huffed, and was tempted to pull my hand out of his as I mumbled, "Never mind." Patrick accepted my answer, and didn't push the matter like I expected him to, like I wanted him to. I desperately wanted to say what was on my mind; I wasn't one to hold back, but I couldn't say it. Instead I said, "Can we go?"

Patrick responded remotely, "Sure." I let him lead me back to the car, where I was more than happy to part ways with his hand as I got into the passenger seat. The ride back home was stiff and silent and I knew then that when we arrived he was going to end it. He would gentlemanly walk me to door and he'd say it was him not me.

We walked up my pathway in silence, and it wasn't till we were at the door that we both looked at each other. I could see in his eyes that he was hiding something, and I knew just what it was too. I went to say something the same time he did, and we both stopped awkwardly. "Go ahead," I told him, readying myself for it.

He sighed. "I know this is about earlier today." I waited. So he had caught on that I had caught on that he didn't want to be with me? "In the kitchen," he clarified causing me confusion. "About what I said." He was looking at me expectantly.

My jaw went slack. "This is not about your political conversation with Adele!" I snapped, unaware of how harsh it had sounded. I think relief flooded Patrick's face but I wasn't sure because I was blinded by rage. "This has nothing to do with politics. God! If you do not find me attractive, fine. But don't sit here and dance around it; break up with me if that's what you want. If you aren't attracted to me then end it."

Patrick stood there, shocked, as if I had just slapped him, or told him I was pregnant, or both. He stammered, "Is-is that what you think? That I'm not attracted to you?" He sounded insulted. "That I want to break up with you?"

I suddenly realized I was wrong, that I was completely wrong, but I wouldn't allow it, not after what I'd just admitted. "Then – then why did…" I couldn't even say it. I had sunken to an all-time low here, and the embarrassment that wracked my body was unbearable. "I – I have to go."

I'm not quite sure how it worked out, but at some point when I was moving in on the door Patrick moved in on me and I was pressed against the banister, and his lips were crushing mine and there was passion, beautiful passion that had my stomach reeling in a way that was foreign yet lovely.

My body was stunned, my arms had gone limp at my sides, and if I wasn't being pressed between him and the railing I would have fallen to the ground beneath my feet. My skin went into hyper-sensitivity and every place his fingers brushed was set on fire.

When he pulled away, my lips felt delightfully bruised and my head was floating on my shoulders. He seemed completely unfazed though, from what I could tell from behind hazy eyes. He was staring straight at me, and I felt the need to look away but was unable to so when he said what he said next I was hit with the intensity of it more than I probably would have been if I wasn't staring straight at him.

"I am very attracted to you, Penelope. More than you realize." His voice was husky and sweet to my ears and while I wanted to say something I was at a loss for words. I could vaguely see the sparkle in his eyes like he knew I was at a loss for words, and then he brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, leaned forward, and briefly kissed my forehead before walking away.

I stood there staring into oblivion as he started up his car, and idled, obviously watching me to make sure I made it into the house. I decided I couldn't let him wait there forever, so gathering the last of my dignity, I rolled back my shoulders and walked inside, making it behind the closed door before my knees buckled, and I had to support myself against the wall, a dopey smile on my face.

My mother cleared her throat, causing me to look to up where she stood with her arms crossed and a disapproving look on her face. "We need to talk, Penelope."

Wiping the smile off my face, I followed my mother into the living room where she sat down on the couch, and waited for me to sit down. Things had managed to work itself out between us over the course of days. While my father didn't approve of me dating, my mother didn't seem to mind. She liked Patrick, and she trusted me.

With that said, she was a bit more protective then she had been with my sisters when they started dating and I knew that was the blame of my father's words. She cleared her throat again, and this time I knew it was to buy time and not actually catch my attention. I waited, wondering what this was about.

I was hoping she wasn't about to try and convince me to stay with my dad or something. That was completely out of the question. At last, she said rather bluntly, "Are you Patrick having sex?"

I almost fell out of my seat. "What?" I cried, trying to contain myself. I felt lightheaded and overheated. Had my mother honestly just asked me that? She gave me a look as if to say 'I'm not repeating that' and I looked away, finding a spot on the wall to focus on as I responded, "No we are not engaging in sex."

My mom sighed as though I'd just told her I wasn't pregnant, that it'd been a false alarm, and I was sure that was kind of what it was like learning I wasn't having sex. She knew my sisters were having sex, though she didn't know of all their conquests she had a pretty good idea when both became sexually active. "Penelope," she sighed, "maybe…maybe you should go on birth control. I think you're old enough and…"

I was shocked, to say the least. I was more than positive my mouth was hanging open, and my eyes were probably the size of quarters. "Do you really not trust me that much?" My voice was pitched in consternation.

"It's not that I don't trust you, Penn. I just don't want you to make a mistake that you'll have to live with for the rest of your life."

"Then you obviously don't trust me if you think I'm going to make a mistake!" I could feel my blood boiling under my skin, all the remaining delightful feelings Patrick had induced completely gone.

"Things happen, that is all I'm saying. I can see that you and Patrick are getting close, and if the moment arises I want to make sure you're careful."

"Isn't that my say, not yours?"

"Not while you're living under this roof, it isn't."

I jumped to my feet, my anger rising to an all-time high. "I cannot believe you right now! You're basically giving me permission to go have sex with Patrick."

"Penelope, you're overreacting."

"Do not tell me I'm overreacting," I snapped backing out of the room. "If anyone is overreacting it's you!" I ran through the kitchen out the back door, running down the porch into the dead of the night. Because that's what I did.

I ran away.