Page 65 of Pete and His Precious

I end up bumping into her.

It was a little harder than I would have chosen to, but I really don’t mind bumping into Zoe. Except, I don’t want to force her into anything she doesn’t want.

Still, automatically, my hands go out to grab her, to keep her from falling. I end up pressing her to me. Now we’re both wet.

“I’m so sorry!” she says, and I don’t think she even realizes our position. Not for a few seconds at least, and I enjoy every pulse of those seconds.

“Hey, it’s okay,” I say, taking a breath, and grabbing a hold of her shoulders, even though my hands don’t want to let go of her, and pushing her back a bit so I can look into her face.

It’s completely red, and her eyes are huge, and I almost think she’s going to cry.

“I’ve been waitressing for years, and I’ve never dropped a drink on anyone.”

“It’s good to know that you don’t do this to every customer. You’re making me feel special,” I say, and I grin at her.

She looks up at my face, then both her hands go to her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“I told you. It’s okay. Seriously.”

“Zoe, the guy likes you. I think he liked the attention,” Miss Phyllis says from behind me, and I kind of wish I would have gone to the diner by myself like I had intended to. Because the ladies are talking, but all I can think about is kissing Zoe. I don’t think that was their intention, because they’re sweet ladies, and would never have any kind of ulterior motives. They don’t know the way my mind works, and when they say “kiss” anywhere near Zoe, that’s all it takes for me to zero in on that. It’s all I can do to take my mind and try to focus it back into the present. The present where Zoe is just my friend, and she wants to be successful in her career before she thinks about a husband.

Husband. I guess I wasn’t really thinking about that. But that’s kind of where this goes. I don’t want to go into a holding pattern for years and years. That’s not my intention. That’s not really fair to anyone.

“Here, I have a towel.” An older waitress with shiny red hair hurries out, waving a towel just like the one Zoe has already handed me.

I reluctantly move away from Zoe, take the towel and dab it on my pants, which are not going to get dry just from being dabbed by a towel, and turned to look at the booth where I was sitting.

Thankfully my lap caught most of it, and the ladies beside me did not get wet.

“I really am sorry,” Zoe says again. Her concern and embarrassment and care are so sweet.

“It’s fine. This is not even wet. My lap caught it all. How’s that for talent?”

It isn’t exactly something that’s necessary on the force, but I guess I’ll take what I can get.

She laughs a little, and then says, “I’ll be back with another drink, and this time, I’ll try not to spill it all over you.”

I nod, seeing that at some point Zoe had set the tray down on the table, and the ladies had gotten their drinks and passed them around.

She gets her tray and hurries off with the empty glass.

My eyes want to track her, actually all of me wants to watch her walk away.

But I turned back to the table. The ladies are watching me, a couple of them with expressions on their faces like they’re afraid I’m going to be angry, and a couple more with smirky smiles.

Miss Phyllis is one with a smirky smile.

“I’m pretty sure that when a waitress throws water on you, it means she likes you,” she says, winking. “Maybe she’s thinking about kissing too,” she says with a laugh. Maybe the laugh is designed to make me feel like she’s just joking, but I don’t think I want to joke about kissing Zoe. And I definitely don’t want her to joke about kissing me. I want her to be dead serious about it.

The ladies are talking, and I try to join in the conversation as I slide back in the booth, but Zoe is on my mind.

She brings me a drink back, and I thank her. She nods, apologizes again, and goes to another table.

I want to get a chance to talk to her...about anything. I can text her, but I’d rather talk face to face. Talking to her like that is much better than texting her where I can’t see her. But I’ll take what I can get.

She brings our food, and I decided the only way I’m going to get to chat, and it’s a slim possibility, is if I get up.

“I’m gonna run to the restroom, ladies,” I say as most of us are finished with our meals. I figure I’ll pay the bill while I’m up, too.

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