The Games We Play

Chapter Twelve:

Chapter Twelve:

Don’t throw up. The only thing I can tell myself right now. Why am I so nervous? I mean, I am Maci Martin the most confident girl at Eastmont High. I don’t get nervous. “Are you okay?” The sound of Peter’s voice calls me back to reality.

“Peachy.” I walk past him into his house, attempting to build my confidence back up. I look around. The walls are a tealish color. All of the furniture is dark brown. There’s a fire with a mantel filled with a row of pictures; family pictures. I walk on into the kitchen. The appliances are fairly new. It’s pretty big. I make my way back into the living room where I left Peter. “Your house is charming”.

I could tell my comment took him by surprise, “Um, thanks.” We stare at each other for what seems like forever. He eventually shifts his weight. He holds eye contact though. What is his problem? Did I do something? Of course, I didn’t do anything. I only gave him a complement.

I opened my mouth to say something (the silence was getting to me) when a timer went off. He walked passed me and into the kitchen. He didn’t even look at me as he walked past though. Did he not want me here anymore? What the hell. I eventually followed him. I want to find out what the hell his problem was. Sighing, I lean against the counter hoping he would turn around. But obviously that was too much to ask. Peter continued to cook. He went from pot to pot to the oven. He asked me to move so he could grab two plates for us. Okay, this is getting old! “What are we having for diner?” Guess I have to start the conversation this evening.

“Oh, um we’re having baked chicken with pasta and bread.”

Just as I say, “that sounds delicious,” my stomach decides to sound like a t-rex. He looks at me and laughs. At least he’s laughing, that’s a good sign. “Oh, you find that funny do you?”

He chuckles a little, “no, not at all. Mac, can you grab two… can you drink wine?”

“Do I look like a law breaker to you?” Um, yes I do. I’m standing in my teacher’s house about to have dinner with him. And this is no school project, this is strictly extracurricular.

I think he caught onto the meaning behind my sarcasm, because all he said was “grab two wine glasses, please,” with a smile on his face. I grab two glasses and set them on the table. He fixed our plates and set them down as well. I grab napkins and silverware, while Peter grabs the wine. Like the gentleman I know him to be, Peter pulled my chair out for me and asked me to sit.

Peter sat down at the head of the table, and I sat to the left of him. Steam was rolling off of the food and a smile spread across my face as I took in the aroma. “Let’s eat!” Forgetting that had just come out of the oven I stuffed a mouthful in my mouth, only to have it scorch the inside of my mouth, causing me to spit the food into my napkin and scream. “Owh, owh, owh!”

Peter stopped midbite and looked up at me, “the food is hot, doll.” What a smart ass! Ugh. I the food filled napkin and walked into the kitchen throwing it away. Classy.

I sat back down, placing my new napkin on the lap. Let’s try this again. I swallowed my bite without any accidents. Smiling at Peter, “MMM, this is really good. Where’d you learn to cook?”

“My grandmother.”

“Are you guys close?” God, this is so good. I bet I look like a pig right about now. Slow down, chew.

“Were.” I saw a flash of sadness in his eyes but just as it came it went away. A smile appeared on his lips, “she was a great woman.”

“If she’s the one who taught you to cook, then she must’ve been a great woman,” I laid my hand on his, “and I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks. You know she left me her house.”

“I knew it had a grandmother feel,” I said after another bite. Peter lied back in his chair, finished with his food. I wanted Peter to be able to share with me. I mean, we are breaking the law together the least he could do was give me some back ground information. Besides I liked him a lot and I wanted to know as much as possible. I wanted to know everything; maybe not his deep dark secrets yet, but the important things. A brief summary of his life. I decide to start on the previous topic, “when did your grandmother pass, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“A few months ago.” He must have realized that I was disappointed with his answer because he continued, “she died in July- cancer.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t make me really that sad anymore.” I get up, and grab both plates and walk to the kitchen. Peter follows holding the glasses. I started washing the dishes by hand, since there weren’t many, and Peter started up the conversation again. “She raised me.”

“Your grandmother?”

“Yeah, ever since I can remember it was just me and her. Probably why I got the house.”

“No brothers or sisters?”

“Um, I have a brother, but he’s not around.” If that doesn’t sound like a deep dark secrets then I don’t know what one is. But I didn’t want to push it. I grab the towel of its hook and dry my hand. Peter is smiling at me when I turn around.

“What?! Was there something on my ass?” I spin around like a dog chasing its damn tail. I can be so darn cute sometime. I stop spinning at the sound of his laughter, “laughing at me again I see?”

“Me laugh at you not a chance.” He steps down from the stool he was sitting on and walks towards me. I feel my heart race as he stands in front of me. I can smell his cologne. His lips are so close to mine at this point. They look so smooth. I feel the urge to kiss him, when he says “what would you like to do?” And that’s my cue.