"I like you a lot, Bea," I murmured after pausing long enough to savor the expression of surprise and longing on her face. "I want us to be something, to be more than just casually dating. I want more, I don't want to be in a 'will-they won't-they' situation, I want to be in a 'they are' situation."
I wasn't even sure what I was really saying, I just knew I needed for her to know I loved her without going so far that I actually said those words out loud on our third date. There was a pause as she looked at me, blinking the stars from her eyes, before she smiled.
"How about we do this?" she said, and I was already nodding before she was saying anything, willing to agree to whatever she asked me to do. "Go on your tour in July. Do whatever you want on that tour. And if you still want to be something when you're back, then I am more than happy to be everything to do."
"I wouldn't want to do anything with anyone but you," I said in a heavy voice, and she chuckled, shaking her head.
"You men are all the same. I've heard those words a million times, and a million and one times the person who says them doesn't end up sticking to them. I know what life on the road is like, I won't hold anything against you. And I also know what you're like," she said, slipping her hand from my arm to my palm, lacing her fingers through mine as we walked.
"What do you mean? What other rock stars do you know?" I asked, Peter's words coming back to me, threatening to tear the imagine I had built up in my mind to shreds.
"Mm, I think that might be a bit of jealousy," she teased, giving me a side-eyed glance, and I felt my face grow hot, shaking my head.
"Just curiosity," I mumbled. Obviously she was spot on. The thought of anyone else having her made my stomach turn, and the thought of anyone having hurt her made me want to find whoever had done so and do things to them that would've made Peter proud.
"Mhm. And pigs can fly," she said, before giving me a smile, eyes getting softer, as if she regretted her teasing. "I don't really know any others, except I suppose your friend. I just meant I had heard those things from other men, and I've heard how long and boring being on tour gets from reading magazine articles. I'm not going to be running into the arms of any other famous rock star while you're gone, don't worry. I'll be waiting for you."
"I'll wait for you too. I mean it," I said, giving her hand a squeeze, but she only smiled, letting out a little hum of agreement.
Without either of us really planning it, we ended up in a small café, sitting in one of the booths after having ordered a couple sandwiches. I took a sip of the Tab I had ordered, letting out a sigh of content. There was just something so perfect about the soda. Paul always told me that he hated it, since according to him it tasted too much like medicine, but I couldn't help myself. It was nostalgic.
"I can't believe you got an orange soda to have with a meal," Bea said, pulling a face. "That can't taste good together."
"It's orange Tab, it tastes good with anything," I said, and she shook her head, taking a drink of her ice water.
"It tastes like cough syrup," she muttered, and I gave her a look of mock hurt.
"It tastes like childhood," I pouted, and she grinned.
"What, were you sick all the time as a kid or something?"
Before I could answer, the waitress walked over, setting our sandwiches in front of us, and I looked at mine appreciatively. It looked absolutely delicious and was the second-most enticing thing at the table that I longed to devour. But I hadn't even fully had time to look at it, let alone take a bite, before I found it ripped out of my hands.
"You can't eat that!" Bea said, setting my sandwich down on her plate, away from me.
"Why not?" I asked in bewilderment. "What's wrong? You see them poison my food or something?"
She giggled at the joke before sobering up, shaking her head. "Of course not. But you can't eat it. It's got bacon, that's not kosher," she said in a matter of fact voice. "I'll order you something else, I should've read the menu closer."
"How'd you know I was Jewish?" I asked, frowning, and she froze, staring at me in surprise, before her cheeks colored.
"I hope you won't think I'm awful for this," she mumbled, hiding her mouth behind her hand, clearly looking like she wanted the ground to swallow her up.
"Well I won't know what to think if you don't tell me how you know," I said with a shrug, trying to figure out if Paul would've told Bea that before deciding it wasn't relevant enough for him to bother.
"You just um...you just...look Jewish?" she said weakly, cringing in on herself, face growing so red it matched the tomatoes on her sandwich.
I arched an eyebrow. "Oh? How so?"
"Well um...y-you know, it's just uh...the nose?" she squeaked, dropping her gaze and sinking lower in her seat, but I only laughed.
"Well, you've got me nailed. It was funny, one of the first interviews I did this woman said it would be funny if I was just a nice Jewish boy under all the makeup, and when I brushed her off she said she knew I was since you can't hide the hook. I have to admit, Paul's a lot better of a Jew than I am. I'll just pick the bacon off," I said, taking my sandwich back from her.
"Are you sure? It's really no trouble for me to just order you something else," she said, giving me a worried glance, still a bright red.
"I'm sure. But I appreciate the concern, it's very thoughtful of you," I said, doing my best to hold myself together so she couldn't realize that all my insides had turned to mush.
It was always just simple actions from her that made me act like a schoolgirl with a crush. I couldn't even figure out the exact reason, all I knew was that she cared about me, and I liked knowing I had someone who cared about me as much as she did. The fact she was so attractive was starting to look more and more like just an added bonus rather than the main event, and I could hardly wrap my head around the fact that it was really me thinking that.
