The French Girl

9

I think the reason why we hold onto something so tight is because we fear something so great won't happen twice.

CHARLIE~

"I'm going to be busy tonight. Sorry." Blair briefly says over the phone. I nod, knowing she can't see me. I clear my throat, shuffling around on my couch. "How about tomorrow? You busy then?" God, I hope she isn't busy tomorrow. I mean ever since Peter and her have been busy with a couple of things lately involving in another show. Which I don't blame her for spending some time with Peter. But why him? He's the complete opposite of me. Basically anything he can do, I can do better.

"I'm actually not busy tomorrow. Say 12pm for lunch at the Brisk?" Blair suggests. "Yeah that sounds good. See you tomorrow? My buddy wants to go out for some drinks." I say talking about Ryan, who has been my friend for decades. "Yeah, I'll see you." Blair says ending the phone call.

"Dude, I haven't seen you out with a girl on an official date in so long." Ryan takes a long sip out of his beer. The shitty kind of beer. I sigh, "Well I've got to settle down one day right?"

Ryan nods, easy for him to say. He's already settled down in one of the best relationships I've ever seen. Married for two years and a kid on the way. The american dream I must say.

"And how about you? How's the wife?" I ask, swirling my drink around in its cup. Ryan chuckles, him shifting in his chair. A tinge of redness is easily seen from his cheeks as he begins to talk about Abigail, his wife. "She's doing great. She's been more active than she used to be and I'm so proud of her. You know what they always say: happy wife, happy life."

"Good for you brother, but can you ever imagine Blair as my wife?" I say finally taking a sip out of my very strong rum. Ryan shakes his head, "Sorry man. But when I see you guys in pictures, she doesn't look at you the same way you look at her. She looks much happier with that one musician. What's his name again?" Ryan taps his chin in thought.

"Peter." I mutter out. She couldn't possibly like Peter. I'm Charlie Roberts; a rich man, a man that many girls would fight over to be with me, but she chose Peter?

"Yeah, that's his name! He has some pretty good music too." Ryan chugs down the last of his beer before standing up. "I've gotta go bro, Abigail is waiting." He takes his coat off the chair and walks out.

BLAIR~

"Peter, you're honestly the dumbest person I've ever met." I shy my face away from his eyes. Clearing my throat while sipping my alcoholic fruit punch as I watch Peter sticking chopsticks in this mouth, impersonating a walrus. A cute walrus.

Peter laughs, picking up a piece of sushi. "I probably am but you don't see me in a mental hospital just yet." He drowns the sushi in a plate of soy sauce which honestly makes my butt clench.

"How are you going to enjoy the flavors when it's dunked in soy sauce?" I ask, pointing my chopsticks to his plate. Peter shrugs, taking a mouthful of the poor sushi piece.

I shake my head, "I may have never been to Japan but at least I know how to eat sushi." I say picking a piece of salmon and putting just a bit of wasabi on it.

"Here," Peter wraps my coat around me. "Merci." I thank him in French. Something I haven't spoken in a long time and gosh, I miss it. Peter smiles at me, taking my hand and leading me outside.

His hand is a bit bigger than mine, but still fits like a glove. Peter squeezes my hand a little bit more, giving me tingles in my whole body. I can't help but look at our hands connected. It looked right, just like it was meant to be there.

"I'll drop you off?" Peter asks me, placing a $10 tip on the table. I smile, "Yeah."

My place was a short walk from the sushi restaurant. It was about two blocks of just walking in silence, our thoughts flooding us. Then we finally reach my door.

"Do you want to come in? I make a killer hot chocolate." I fumble with my keys and open the door. "I can't say no to hot chocolate." Peter smiles, stepping in.

I close the door and locking it. Peter walks into the kitchen, opening up the fridge.

"That's the first thing you do? Open my fridge?" I laugh, placing my bag on the countertop. Peter laughs, taking the milk carton out. "I'll help you with the hot chocolate."

Peter plops his body down on my bed, a loud laugh erupting from him. I laugh along with him, sitting beside him. Our hot chocolates long gone, just us enjoying the company of one another.

And somewhere between us laughing and telling silly jokes, something stopped. "Blair, do you mind if I kiss you?" Peter asks me, as if he thought I would've said no. But I didn't. Instead, I just went in for it. 

Our lips met, fireworks exploding in my brain. It felt like my first kiss, even though that was taken years ago. Maybe I did like Peter more than a friend. Maybe Charlie was just a friend to me.  

Maybe you should shut up and enjoy the kiss, my conscience shushes me.

And I did just that.