Sounds like an excuse to me.
“I’m going to get the movie ready.” I push out of my seat and head back into the house. Tossing the ice pack and towel into the sink , I brace myself on the counter and wonder what the hell I’m doing. She’s fucked me outdoors on a mountaintop, drinks hard stuff—obviously regularly—and smokes pot. I know I’m older than her but maybe this one is out of my league. She’s young. We all did that when we were young, right? Dragging a hand down my face I try to push all those thoughts aside. She intrigues me. I like that. I like her. I like not thinking about Clara. I like that Pepper is different.
“What you got there?” she asks curiously from behind me as I pull down a bag of chocolate .
“Cadbury Mini Eggs. You want some?” I ask. Her hand snaps out and she steals the bag from me in record time. I watch, stunned, as she tears the bag open, swiftly walks to the couch, and sits hunched over while popping them into her mouth. Apparently she really likes them. I follow her to the living room.
“You look like Gollum from Lord of the Rings eating those,” I tease as I reach over for one.
“Hey!” She slaps my hand away and pulls them to her opposite side. “It’s ok ay, my precious…” she whispers to the bag. I can’t help it. A bubble bursts and I let out a deep belly laugh. She looks at me and smiles a real smile. Wide and bright. She’s funny. She’s so beautiful.
“So as a friend, what am I allowed to know? Can I ask like, when your birthday is? Or if you go to church? I don’t know what topics are safe ,” I ask honestly.
“I don't do birthdays ,” she states seriously.
“What?! Preposterous! Birthdays are meant for celebrating ,” I declare.
“A birthday is just another day . Christmas, too. Holidays come and go. I don't celebrate. I haven't had a reason to. It's fine. It's not like I've been missing out. Who would I buy for? Celebrate with?” she asks. Her body language says she’s comfortable with her statement, like it’s well-rehearsed, but her eyes show a hint of sorrow.
“But all those holidays are pretty much an excuse for sweets, and I’m pretty sure you're addicted to sweets. First pastries , and now Cadbury Minis.”
“Touché , Sawyer,” she admits with a grin, “but I don’t need an excuse to indulge in sweets. Any day of the year is a dessert holiday if you ask me.”
“I’ll give you that, for now ,” I answer with a grin.
“Good. Cause I’m really ready to watch this movie you promised me ,” she says and laughs lightly.
“Bossy little thing aren't you ?” I say playfully.
“Little?” she challenges. We already know she can kick my ass without trying .
“As in …young,” I explain.
“How old are you?” she asks .
“Thirty -five. You?” I can feel myself cringing, waiting for her response.
“Twenty -five, but my non-celebrated birthday is in three weeks,” she answers, unaffected by our age difference. Twenty-five is definitely better than “I’m still in college.” I’ll take it. Ten years. That’s not so bad. But I’m sure it can be a hurdle for a relationship, too.
“Are you trying to tell me you’re twenty-five and three quarters?” I laugh. Her entire face lights up , eyes sparkling, shoulders shaking, and dimple showing.
“Yes. Yes I am ,” she says and chuckles. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to watch the movie you promised.” She raises her eyebrows at me and bites her lip to stifle a laugh.
“As you wish, milady.” I bow to her and head to the DVD player to load the disc.
It happens about one hour into the movie as we’re munching on popcorn ; she stretches out and rests her feet over my lap. I’d like to report that I’m not smitten or totally over the moon about the small gesture of familiarity, but I am. I grab the blanket from the back of the couch and spread it carefully over her legs and my lap and slowly let my hand come to rest on her shin. I see
“I’m going to get the movie ready.” I push out of my seat and head back into the house. Tossing the ice pack and towel into the sink , I brace myself on the counter and wonder what the hell I’m doing. She’s fucked me outdoors on a mountaintop, drinks hard stuff—obviously regularly—and smokes pot. I know I’m older than her but maybe this one is out of my league. She’s young. We all did that when we were young, right? Dragging a hand down my face I try to push all those thoughts aside. She intrigues me. I like that. I like her. I like not thinking about Clara. I like that Pepper is different.
“What you got there?” she asks curiously from behind me as I pull down a bag of chocolate .
“Cadbury Mini Eggs. You want some?” I ask. Her hand snaps out and she steals the bag from me in record time. I watch, stunned, as she tears the bag open, swiftly walks to the couch, and sits hunched over while popping them into her mouth. Apparently she really likes them. I follow her to the living room.
“You look like Gollum from Lord of the Rings eating those,” I tease as I reach over for one.
“Hey!” She slaps my hand away and pulls them to her opposite side. “It’s ok ay, my precious…” she whispers to the bag. I can’t help it. A bubble bursts and I let out a deep belly laugh. She looks at me and smiles a real smile. Wide and bright. She’s funny. She’s so beautiful.
“So as a friend, what am I allowed to know? Can I ask like, when your birthday is? Or if you go to church? I don’t know what topics are safe ,” I ask honestly.
“I don't do birthdays ,” she states seriously.
“What?! Preposterous! Birthdays are meant for celebrating ,” I declare.
“A birthday is just another day . Christmas, too. Holidays come and go. I don't celebrate. I haven't had a reason to. It's fine. It's not like I've been missing out. Who would I buy for? Celebrate with?” she asks. Her body language says she’s comfortable with her statement, like it’s well-rehearsed, but her eyes show a hint of sorrow.
“But all those holidays are pretty much an excuse for sweets, and I’m pretty sure you're addicted to sweets. First pastries , and now Cadbury Minis.”
“Touché , Sawyer,” she admits with a grin, “but I don’t need an excuse to indulge in sweets. Any day of the year is a dessert holiday if you ask me.”
“I’ll give you that, for now ,” I answer with a grin.
“Good. Cause I’m really ready to watch this movie you promised me ,” she says and laughs lightly.
“Bossy little thing aren't you ?” I say playfully.
“Little?” she challenges. We already know she can kick my ass without trying .
“As in …young,” I explain.
“How old are you?” she asks .
“Thirty -five. You?” I can feel myself cringing, waiting for her response.
“Twenty -five, but my non-celebrated birthday is in three weeks,” she answers, unaffected by our age difference. Twenty-five is definitely better than “I’m still in college.” I’ll take it. Ten years. That’s not so bad. But I’m sure it can be a hurdle for a relationship, too.
“Are you trying to tell me you’re twenty-five and three quarters?” I laugh. Her entire face lights up , eyes sparkling, shoulders shaking, and dimple showing.
“Yes. Yes I am ,” she says and chuckles. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to watch the movie you promised.” She raises her eyebrows at me and bites her lip to stifle a laugh.
“As you wish, milady.” I bow to her and head to the DVD player to load the disc.
It happens about one hour into the movie as we’re munching on popcorn ; she stretches out and rests her feet over my lap. I’d like to report that I’m not smitten or totally over the moon about the small gesture of familiarity, but I am. I grab the blanket from the back of the couch and spread it carefully over her legs and my lap and slowly let my hand come to rest on her shin. I see
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