Page 13 of Pining for Pierce
“I know. She came into the store to ask for directions.”
“So she’s not local?”
Please say she’s just passing through…
“She lives in Willmont Vale, but I think she said she only moved there a short while ago.”
Great… she’s a neighbor.
“I see… and having known this woman for just a few hours, you’ve decided she’s ‘the one’?” I say, trying my hardest to hide my disappointment.
He smiles, shaking his head. “I only said I thought she might be the one. I’m seeing her tomorrow, so hopefully I’ll find out for sure then.”
“You’re seeing her?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ve got a date?”
“I asked her to have dinner with me, and she agreed.”
Naturally. Who wouldn’t?
“What’s her name?” I ask.
“Monica. She works in sales, I think. She was looking for one of the companies in the industrial area, anyway.”
“And you were able to help her find her way?”
“Of course,” he says with a smile.
I nod my head and stare up into his chocolate-colored eyes, wondering how life can be so unfair. Before that thought gets the better of me, I excuse myself and head for the restrooms, which are at the back of the bar.
Once inside, I shut myself in the first stall and sit down on the closed toilet seat, trying to keep it together. It’s a struggle, knowing he’s out there, thinking about ‘the one’, wondering how their date will go tomorrow… what they’ll talk about, how she’ll look, whether they’ll go further than food and conversation, and while that thought is enough to make me cry, I know I can’t. Nothere. Pierce will notice and probably start asking questions… questions I can’t answer. No. I need to get out of here and go home… and then I can cry my heart out.
I leave the stall, washing my hands and taking my time over drying them, before I head back out into the bar, trying to think up a reason to go home. It’ll have to be a good one. After all, I agreed to meet him, and I’ve only been here for twenty minutes.
I make my way over to the booth, sitting back down, and notice that Pierce’s glass is empty before I look up at him, worried that he might suggest a second drink, while I’m trying to think of excuses to get out of here.
“I was just thinking,” he says.
“You know that’s dangerous.”
He smiles. “Not in this instance. I was wondering if you wanna come back to the apartment with me? We could make something to eat and watch a movie, if you like?”
How can he ask me things like that… things that make me feel like I matter to him, when I know damn well I don’t?
Because I’m not ‘the one’.
“I can’t,” I say, gulping down my drink.
“Oh?”
I nod my head, putting down my glass. “It’s been a tough week. Between Mom and Dad being away and Doc Shackleton being even more difficult than usual…” I let my voice fade and he reaches across the table, like he expects me to take his hand. It would be so easy… but his is the hand of friendship, and I want the hand of love. Nothing less will do.
“That’s even more reason to come over,” he says. “I don’t mind doing the cooking, and you can put your feet up.”
I shake my head. “Thanks, but I’d rather just go home.”
