Page 2 of In For a Penny
Everyone in the restaurant starts to look around at the mess and commotion that I’ve created.
I. Am. Mortified.
We grab napkins from neighboring tables and mop up the spilled drinks.
Way to go. Way to prove what a mature and self-adjusted person you are.
You’re a mess, Penny.
Once we successfully mop up most of the water, I stand up straight and look into his blue eyes. He smiles his supermodel smile, and my heart skips another beat. I suddenly begin to realize what a colossal mistake this dinner is. There’s definitely no way I’m walking out of this non-date without feeling like we’re breaking up all over again.
“Hi,” I greet him again with a forced laugh, ignoring the fact that, a minute ago, I was thinking about his lips on me while he moved and made me co—
I snap back to reality.
He opens his arms, and I groan internally. I go in for what I expect to be an awkward, ass-out hug. Instead, he snakes his arms around my waist and presses me close to his chest, kissing the top of my head. I wrap my arms around his neck and lean my head on his shoulder, breathing him in. A combination of Nivea aftershave and Austin’s scent hits me like a punch to the gut. It’s heady, and I get the sudden urge to bottle it up so I can keep it with me when he goes.
My knees buckle, and I suddenly start feeling very warm.
Fuck. Fucking fuck. I knew this was a mistake.
He cuts the hug short. My breathing is already a little uneven and comes in a little faster. Can he tell? I start panicking but stop once I notice he looks a little hot and bothered as well. I smile.
Well, well, well. Glad to know I’m not the only one affected by the other’s presence...
We take our seats on opposite ends of the table and stare at each other for a second.
“So,” he starts, “you’re moving to London?”
He orders food for usboth—our usual—and a bottle of wine. I pass on the alcohol, trying to avoid anything that may increase my chances of experiencing a case of nervous regurgitation.
I notice how easy it is for us to fall back into our regular rhythm. We flirt shamelessly and talk endlessly about all the new things that have happened in our lives since we last saw each other while reminiscing. As we laugh at a Halloween memory, he instinctively reaches out for my hand to hold it. We both stop laughing and stare at each other, his expression intense.
I look away in sad silence.
“Penny,” he says quietly.
My hand is still in his, his thumb drawing patterns on my skin.
I close my eyes to keep the tears from running out but, instead, see our naked bodies intertwined.
No.
I quickly open my eyes and am back in the restaurant.
“Penny,” he repeats my name with more intent. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” I shrug nonchalantly.
He takes my hand in both of his and lowers his head to meet my gaze.
“For everything. For hurting you, for hurting me. I know this sucks.”
Wait. Wait. Does he mean…?
I start to feel hopeful. Is Austin having doubts, too? Does he want to get back together? Is he saying that he’s down for a long-distance relationship? This whole thing is ridiculous.
I want to tell him I agree. I want to say that I think it’s stupid, too, and that we should work harder on keeping this thing alive because, damn it, it’s worth it. We’re worth it.
