Broken Strings

Honesty is the best policy

“Anything else I can get you, sir?” the waitress seemed completely oblivious to the fact I was there with Peter. I could recognise that look. She was falling for him, she was falling hard. Stupid hormones. The woman looked young, probably only either a year or two either older or younger than me, it is hard to tell with all that makeup on. She wore a short black skirt that hugged her body and a white blouse that had one too many buttons undone.

“We’ll be fine now, thank you,” Peter’s voice was deep and I watched her eyes almost roll back in her head at the sound of it, pathetic.

“Actually I would like a hot chocolate,” I piped up. I knew it was wrong but I am having a good time watching her squirm at the fact I am here with Peter rather than her. It made me selfish really. The waitress turned to face me, an almost glowering stare pierced my eyes. I gave her an impatient smile before watching her stroll away, fists clenched.

“Amelia? Are you okay?” Peter’s voice pulls me from my daydream and I realise how pathetic I look.

“Huh?” I try to act as though I have no clue as to what he is talking about but I’m not so lucky.

“You were a tad rude to her. She seemed nice,” slight anger propelled through my body.

“Nice? She was looking at you like you were something to eat,” I put on a smile, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Amelia!” a smile ventured onto his face, an amused smile.

“What?”

“Calm down. I’m not interested in her,” for some reason this seemed to settle me. The last thing I want is for Peter to get hurt or for him to jeopardise our plan.

“I know,” he perks up.

“You know? How?” he is genuinely curious.

“Huh?” I thought his question over again, “I just thought you would have made a move already if you were interested that’s all.”

“You think I’m that kinda guy do you?”

“Peter. Forget it. Everything is fine, she just struck me as the bad influence type,” Peter relaxed.

“Oh.”

“Your hot chocolate,” the waitress returned, placing a steaming cup before me. Two marshmallows sat beside it. “Can I get you anything else,” once again the waitress was oblivious towards me.

“That’s all thanks,” her face fell in disappointment.

“Okay, have a good day,” she turned on her heals, throwing me an evil glance before trotting away, behind the till.

“I think you’re right about her,” Peter chuckled, stealing a marshmallow. He threw it into his mouth, pink of all colours.

“You stole my favourite,” I sighed. My eyes flew to the lonely white marshmallow sitting alone by my hot chocolate.

“Sorry you want it back?” I stopped him as he went regurgitate the contents of his mouth.

“Its fine,” I pleaded. “I want you to have it.”

“You sure?” I nodded rapidly. A cheeky smile ventured onto his lips.

“So back in your old town, where was it again?” I tried for the second time to find out his past but his smile widened. 

“Uh uh,” he shook his head. “You know the rules. I know nearly nothing about your past and you know nothing about my past.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know things about each other?” he nodded and a sheepish smile replaced his once cheeky one.