Where Promises Must Glide

16 - Theo

But I always liked to double check with her to see if she wanted to go home first. "Breakfast!" She chirped from the couch where she remained to lay. I put on a movie for her to watch—buy dvd versions of all of them so she could watch them easily.

It would have been easier if her common interest in movies was like Disney. But she chose mafia and killing, so I have to pay attention to the tv to know when to skip. Her favorite lately—also mine—has been The Bronx Tale. It is the most mellow of them all, except for the ending. So I have to skip the least amount of things.

"Theo," Ophelia says, and I realize she's so close, tugging on the white shirt I'm wearing. "Can you make me the special pancakes with eggies?" She was giving me the puppy dog eyes, and I couldn't say no.

"Of course," I tell her, picking her up with one arm so she can watch me cook. I started to beat the pancake batter, and dipped a small amount onto my finger, wiping it on her nose which made her laugh. She produced the sweetest laugh and smile a kid could have.

I lowered her forward so she could dip her finger as well, and wiped it on my face. I texted Juliette to also come over and eat about ten minutes ago, and haven't heard a reply since. Or maybe my phones just on silent.

Once I started actually cooking, I set Ophelia on the ground so she wasn't near the fire. "Theo someone's knocking," Ophelia yelled, running to the door. I walked over with her, allowing her to open the door because it was her favorite thing.

When it opened, I was presented with the most beautiful array of brunette hair and gorgeous eyes that have me lost for days. Ophelia screamed; "Mommy!!!" Before running into her arms.

"Good morning, Princess," Juliette replied, picking Ophelia up into her arms. I've never seen a person possess the most beautiful smile, except for Juliette.

Once they were both done hugging and doing whatever, she set ophelia down, watching her little steps as she ran back to the tv. Juliette turned to me, and I felt like a middle schooler with a childish crush.

"You have a little," she pointed to her cheek in demonstration, smiling.

"Oh uh," I stammered attempting wiping it.

She began to laugh. "No, here let me-" she didn't finish her sentence as she walked closer, filling the space we usually have with her scent of shampoo and vanilla perfume. Her cold fingers wiped the batter off, and I've never felt more electricity run through my body right now.

Get it together, man.

"Uh thanks," I finally get out, scratching the back of my neck. She simply smiled in reply, as I turned back to make pancakes. Ok, make a snarky remark or cool comeback from whatever the hell that was.

I felt like a puddle when she touched me, melting into her skin. "So how was your date," I say, sounding as nonchalant as possible.

"Good," she replies, and I wonder if she is shrugging from where she is sitting at the breakfast bar. My back was turned to her, because I wasn't trying to stutter when I spoke—and knew she had the magical effects to do that to me .

"Good?" I reiterate.

This time I turned, to see her shrug—which she did. "Yeah, nothing special. Simple dinner and drinks."

"That's not what it sounded like when I planned to drop Philly off at your house," I said, raising a brow for a minute before inevitably smirking.

She shrugged it off. "So, I took him home after. Nothing to shame." Her replies were short and snappy. I bit my lip, holding back so much.

"It really did sound like nothing," I added as I turned to continue the cooking. I heard her chair immediately scoot. I felt her presence get closer and closer to me.

She stood at the side of the breakfast bar, just a couple of feet away. "What's that's supposed to mean?" She demanded. We've had casual conversations about sex before, so it wasn't really weird to tell her she sounded like she wasn't enjoying herself.

Now it was my turn to play nonchalant. "Well whoever he was, must have been bad from the noises I heard. Actually more like the lack of noise." I shrugged, but internally I was holding back a smirk and maybe a smile. I loved how she stared at me so dumbfound and in shock.

I wondered if she knew how I felt about her. How I imagined running my fingers through her gorgeous hair. How I want to comfort her when she is sad, and smile along with her when she is happy. I want to be the person she stays up at night talking about nothing and everything while we are tangled in each other.

I want her.

And that realization was scary that I had to hide my fear with smartass comments—as my father would put it. So when she said; "and when did you become a sex expert?" I could only reply with.

"Well, sweetheart, I have done it multiple times. And I also know how a woman sounds when she is being pleasured, trust me. And whatever that was, wasn't good." I matched her low tone so Ophelia doesn't hear us.

I've been in one serious relationship, years ago. The love of my life. We were so young, so drunk in love it was amazing. But she left, unwillingly—which probably hurt more. She had to leave; or that's what she told me when she walked out of the small dinky apartment we slaved to live in together.

I vowed to never date again, not like that. Not like what we had. Pure, soulmate type of love. The one you read about or find in movies.

But I've had plenty of one night stands to ease the pain. More than plenty, in fact. I've been with every type of woman you could imagine. Never have been a repeat though. But I think from all my experiences, I know how to have sex.

Juliette's face is red, and it is kinda cute. "Well I haven't been. . ." She paused, fiddling with her ring on her index finger.

I look at her, staring into her euphoric blue eyes. "Haven't been?" I repeated her words, wondering what the other end of that sentence.

She cringed slightly. "Don't laugh," she began, looking away from me. "But I haven't had good sex in years. Actually even when I was with Ophelia's dad, it was not the best." She was twisting the ring in every direction, looking at every other sight but me.

"Maybe I could fix that," I pursed my lips, shrugging. Before I could watch her reaction or allow her to add onto what I said, I grabbed the pancake off the pan and yelled: "Philly! World famous pancakes up for grabs."

Her little footsteps shushed us both. But it didn't stop the smirk I gave Juliette as I walked past her to put the plate of pancakes on the table.