My Calamity
Chapter Eight
I think I was going to kiss her.
And I don't think she would have minded.
If only I could relate how close I was to her. It was like she was taunting me. Her lips, so full and lush, parted like she were about to smile, right in front of me, and now I will always wonder what would have happened if Jessica hadn’t walked in and ruined everything.
Penelope straightened up; placing a smile on those lips I would most likely be kissing if not for Jessica. “Nothing, I just dropped a glass. It’s fine.”
“Oh,” Jessica said, plopping down on a stool at the island. “Well, I hate to have to bail, but Jason’s picking me up. He wants to catch a movie.” Jessica's cell phone buzzed, and she gave it a brief glance before getting up. "And that would be my leave. Thanks for having me Penelope."
"Call me Penn."
Jessica smiled. "Alright, bye." She gave a small wave to Penelope and me and then walked out into the foyer.
I stood there watching Penelope stand there, until the door slamming knocked her out of whatever world she was in, and she turned to me with an easy smile. There was a light flush across her freckled cheeks but other than that, she seemed easy going like we weren't about to kiss five seconds ago.
I watched her silently walk over to the fridge and retrieve a pitcher of presumably iced tea. "My knee's fine, by the way." Her voice was low, and I almost didn't catch it.
"That's good," I said leaning against the counter, watching her pour the glasses. "You bleed quite a lot."
She looked up and met eye contact at that. "I have hemophilia."
I wasn't expecting that.
"Oh," I said unsurely. "I've never met anyone with hemophilia before."
She smiled this big grin at my words, and walked over to me, hand outstretched with my glass. I took it from her gratefully with a smile, and when our fingers brushed I felt my heart quicken. "Well, I'm glad to be your first."
It took me longer than it should have to figure out what she was talking about. I watched her glide out the kitchen into the living room and quickly followed, seating myself across from her in an armchair, whilst she sat down on the couch.
"So tell me about yourself, Patrick."
"Well, for starters," I began with an easy smile. "Call me Patch."
☼
Talking with Penelope was easy.
It was almost too easy.
Though we've lived in this town since our births, I've never paid her a look, and I didn't know why. Okay, so I did know why. It's not that Penelope wasn't hot, because she was, but in third grade when she was the tall, awkward freckly one with the fire hydrant hair she was the least of my concerns. There was no way she could have competed with Shay Salinka for my attention.
I hadn't paid her a look. And god damn it, was I paying for it now. If only I could go back and somehow change the past. I wish I had known she'd turn out to be this…this…mysterious goddess with her secrets, and smiles.
God that smile. She had to know what that did to a guy.
I wish I could have known her when we were younger, I wish I could have been her friend, because maybe decoding her now would be easier. I swear she could curve a question back to you better than Wesley Gibson with his bullets. Through the hour of talking with her I managed to find out this:
Penelope Christine Reid.
Senior.
Enjoys art.
Wow, and I'm right back where I started. While I gave my whole life's story — never have I ever been that open — she gave me information I already knew.
And maybe I'd be alright with that if she were as easy to read as the aforementioned Shay Salinka is as easy to get in bed—not that I would know—but she wasn't. She was the most impossible person to read. But it only made her all the more interesting. I mean, I had to know her. So maybe I shouldn't had asked her what she was doing Sunday. Because I was probably jumping into it too quickly. And that was confirmed when her eyes shot up wide.
I had never been rejected before, and I wasn't really ready for it to happen any time soon.
"My mom's home."
And I don't think she would have minded.
If only I could relate how close I was to her. It was like she was taunting me. Her lips, so full and lush, parted like she were about to smile, right in front of me, and now I will always wonder what would have happened if Jessica hadn’t walked in and ruined everything.
Penelope straightened up; placing a smile on those lips I would most likely be kissing if not for Jessica. “Nothing, I just dropped a glass. It’s fine.”
“Oh,” Jessica said, plopping down on a stool at the island. “Well, I hate to have to bail, but Jason’s picking me up. He wants to catch a movie.” Jessica's cell phone buzzed, and she gave it a brief glance before getting up. "And that would be my leave. Thanks for having me Penelope."
"Call me Penn."
Jessica smiled. "Alright, bye." She gave a small wave to Penelope and me and then walked out into the foyer.
I stood there watching Penelope stand there, until the door slamming knocked her out of whatever world she was in, and she turned to me with an easy smile. There was a light flush across her freckled cheeks but other than that, she seemed easy going like we weren't about to kiss five seconds ago.
I watched her silently walk over to the fridge and retrieve a pitcher of presumably iced tea. "My knee's fine, by the way." Her voice was low, and I almost didn't catch it.
"That's good," I said leaning against the counter, watching her pour the glasses. "You bleed quite a lot."
She looked up and met eye contact at that. "I have hemophilia."
I wasn't expecting that.
"Oh," I said unsurely. "I've never met anyone with hemophilia before."
She smiled this big grin at my words, and walked over to me, hand outstretched with my glass. I took it from her gratefully with a smile, and when our fingers brushed I felt my heart quicken. "Well, I'm glad to be your first."
It took me longer than it should have to figure out what she was talking about. I watched her glide out the kitchen into the living room and quickly followed, seating myself across from her in an armchair, whilst she sat down on the couch.
"So tell me about yourself, Patrick."
"Well, for starters," I began with an easy smile. "Call me Patch."
☼
Talking with Penelope was easy.
It was almost too easy.
Though we've lived in this town since our births, I've never paid her a look, and I didn't know why. Okay, so I did know why. It's not that Penelope wasn't hot, because she was, but in third grade when she was the tall, awkward freckly one with the fire hydrant hair she was the least of my concerns. There was no way she could have competed with Shay Salinka for my attention.
I hadn't paid her a look. And god damn it, was I paying for it now. If only I could go back and somehow change the past. I wish I had known she'd turn out to be this…this…mysterious goddess with her secrets, and smiles.
God that smile. She had to know what that did to a guy.
I wish I could have known her when we were younger, I wish I could have been her friend, because maybe decoding her now would be easier. I swear she could curve a question back to you better than Wesley Gibson with his bullets. Through the hour of talking with her I managed to find out this:
Penelope Christine Reid.
Senior.
Enjoys art.
Wow, and I'm right back where I started. While I gave my whole life's story — never have I ever been that open — she gave me information I already knew.
And maybe I'd be alright with that if she were as easy to read as the aforementioned Shay Salinka is as easy to get in bed—not that I would know—but she wasn't. She was the most impossible person to read. But it only made her all the more interesting. I mean, I had to know her. So maybe I shouldn't had asked her what she was doing Sunday. Because I was probably jumping into it too quickly. And that was confirmed when her eyes shot up wide.
I had never been rejected before, and I wasn't really ready for it to happen any time soon.
"My mom's home."