The few days after my first encounter with Peter, I didn't hear word from him. We never exchanged phone numbers or anything like that, but the man knew where I lived. I was very eager to see him again. I knew though that he had to spend time with his band and finish producing the album, Bloody Kisses. I actually missed Peter a little. Every time I thought of him, my heart rate picked up. My senses came alive. I have never felt this feeling before. The kiss he gave me outside on Friday night still left me warm and tingly inside. It was all exciting and new to me. And to think I didn't want a relationship with the man...ha! That was the biggest joke my mind could ever play on me.
I was only here to run an experiment and now I was developing feelings for a man that was part of history, dead in my time. The thing about this situation though was that his band was set to release Bloody Kisses in August. That was only four months away. What normally comes with a new album being released? A tour. And you know what happens to bands that go on tour? Pretty women throw themselves at the band members. Peter and I were nothing at this point. What's going to stop him from screwing all of these pretty women? I didn't think myself to be beautiful, compared to some of the Type O groupies. I didn't even feel like I had a chance with him. I sighed.
It was a shitty Wednesday in Red Hook. It was pouring outside and I wanted to curl up on the couch in my pajamas all day with a good book and a movie later on. I thought about making a nice dinner for myself, leftovers to last me the whole week. I put my hair in a messy bun. I brushed my teeth and looked at myself in the mirror. If Peter saw something in me, what did he even see? I thought of myself as ordinary looking. Nothing more, nothing less. The only thing I had going for me was my butt and my boobs. That was painfully apparent on Friday with the random groping man at the bar. I shook that thought away. I walked downstairs in just a sports bra and shorty shorts. I didn't feel any urge to go out in the shitty weather anyway. I opened up the blinds, letting whatever dismal light in. The streets were empty, save for a few cars parked alongside the curbs.I went over to the bookshelf and grabbed a book. I had never been a fan of romance novels until recently. I picked Lolita because I had read it before and I loved the plot. I grabbed a blanket and snuggled up to some pillows on the couch. It was funny because I noticed that Peter's scent lingered on the cushions I was up against. I smacked myself on the forehead.
"Girl, get a damn grip on yourself!"
I opened up the book and tried to read.
Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita.
That part of the book always got to me for some reason. The main character, Humbert, knew he wasn't supposed to love Lolita, but he did. He was obsessed with her. A part of me wished someone was obsessed with me as much as Humbert was obsessed about Lolita. It had always been hard for me to find someone that cared for me, let alone wanted to devote their time romantically with me. My line of work didn't allow for much personal time alone with a potential significant other. I craved love and affection just as much as the next person. But I was 24, never had a consistent boyfriend, let alone time to date anyone. I felt like I was running out of time. I was Rose to everyone else around me, standing 5'2" in chucks. At school I was always Miss Ivanov. I was Rosemary on the dotted line. But in someone's arms, I yearned to be their Rosie.
I read my book, crying towards the end of it. The ending always got to me. I put the book down, wiping away stray tears. I got up and got my tablet out of a drawer in one of the side tables near the couch. I loved how I still had access to the Internet. Government technology blew my freaking mind. I got on Netflix and watched my all time favorite movie, The Silence of the Lambs. I always loved that movie because of the fact that again, there was some sexual undertone to it, let alone mystery. There was obviously some type of attraction between Clarice and Dr. Lecter.
After watching my movie, I glanced at my watch. Only 3:00? Nice. I got up and grabbed my bluetooth speaker. I haven't listened to any of my music since I rolled into 1993. I took that and my phone, moseying into the kitchen. I poured myself a glass of wine and looked through the cupboards and fridge, trying to figure out what to make. I remembered that I bought a head of cabbage and some wide egg noodles. Haluski was on the menu tonight, obviously. I shredded the cabbage and cooked it down. Tom Petty's voice permeated the room as I cooked the noodles and started to prepare brown butter to pour over everything. Haluski was meant to be a colon-cleansing food in my family. I combined the noodles, cabbage and butter in the pot and put it on the back burner, turning the burner to simmer just to keep them warm while I continued chugging along with my cooking endeavor. I had flour and potatoes too, so I was going to make a side of pierogies with my haluski. I set to work, peeling, cooking, and mashing the potatoes. I made the dough and started to cut circular pieces with a cup. I dolloped the potatoes into the circular dough.
I was jamming out to Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar On Me", taking a fork to the edges of the pierogies to seal the potatoes in. I was getting my groove on. That song always made me want to strip, but being kind of a prude, I've never felt the need to strip. I danced on over to the stove, getting a frying pan with oil heating up to fry the 'rogies. I went into the fridge to pour myself a second glass of wine. I drank in gulps, loving the warmth it gave me, that warmth coursing through my veins.
I guess my door was unlocked because I never noticed Peter, smirking, leaning against the doorway frame that lead from the living room to the kitchen/dining room area. I shrieked, dropped my wine glass, startled to all hell. I whelped and jumped back as the glass hit the floor, shattering everywhere. At least the glass was almost empty.
"Holy shit! What are you doing here? How long have you been standing there?"
His piercing green eyes consumed me whole.
"Long enough for you to give me a little show, Rosie."
I remembered that I was scantily dressed, not expecting any visitors, especially him. My eyes went wide and I gulped hard. In that moment, reality stood still. He ducked under the doorway making his way into the kitchen. "I Saw The Light" by Tod Rundgren came on as I walked to the kitchen closet, grabbing a broom and dust pan. I knelt down to try and clean up the shattered remains of my wine glass.
"You know, I wasn't expecting anyone coming over. I wasn't dressed for such an occasion..." I said, slightly annoyed, slightly anxious.
He knelt down in front of me, across the sea of shattered glass. He was trying to help clean up the mess I created.
"I probably should've knocked, but you door was conveniently unlocked. I'm glad I decided not to knock."
"Not to sound rude, but is there a reason why you're here?"
He shrugged.
"Just thought I'd come by and see my Rosie."
I blushed furiously. Who does this guy think he is?
"Your Rosie, huh?"I smirked.
"Well, your Rosie is in the middle of making dinner. Do you want to stay and eat? I made enough for an army."
"Depends on what you're making."
"Haluski, pierogies, and smoked kielbasa."
He pondered for a bit.
"Yeah, I'll stay."
We cleaned up the shattered glass together and I dumped the carnage in the trash.
"If you'll excuse me, I'm going to put a shirt on."
And with that I ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs to my room. I didn't even bother throwing the light on. I threw on a band tee I had lying around, no regard for what was on it. I ran back down the stairs to finish making my 'rogies.
"I'm glad our shirts don't look like complete shit."
"What..."
I looked down. I inwardly sighed in defeat to myself. It was a Type O Negative shirt. It said "Type O Negative Black No. 1" on the front with Peter biting a woman's neck. The back had the band members on it. It said "No Hope = No Fear. This Blood's for You."
"I didn't even look at what shirt I grabbed..."
I proceeded to make my pierogies, pressing the fork down along the edges on the ones that remained. He just stood there in the kitchen, out of my way. What a smart man.
"So, why did you feel the need to cook for an army? It's just you here isn't it?"
"Yeah, it's just me." I collected all of my perogies up in a bowl. "I just wanted to have leftovers throughout the week."
"Smart."
I threw my perogies in a pan to fry and went over to the fridge, pulling out some Polish kielbasa. I dumped that into another pan. I stood there, my back to Peter, contemplating as to why he was here. He wanted to see me, obviously. But I felt like there was more to that. As the kielbasa and pierogies were frying, I went to go set the table. The damn plates were so high up in this one cupboard. I usually had to jump onto the counter to grab them and that's exactly what I did. I hoisted myself up on the counter. Peter looked at me peculiarly.
"What are you doing?"
"Grabbing plates. Not everyone was blessed with your height, sunshine."
He laughed at that. I put the plates down on the counter and jumped down. I looked at him.
"Little people problems."I shrugged and giggled.
I set the rest of the table no problem because everything else was at my level. I kept the plates by the stove for easy serving. I shut all of the burners off and served our dinner.
"Well, thanks for feeding me on such short notice."
I rolled my eyes and shook my head, smiling at him.
"It's really not a problem."
We dug into our dishes. I was craving haluski for so long. It was comforting to eat it on a dreary day. It made me think of my family and how much I missed them.
"You know, you're a pretty good cook. You'd make someone a good wife."
I choked on my haluski. I started to cough.
"Are you okay?"
"Yup, never been better." I croaked out. I took a sip of my water. I cleared my throat. "I'm still waiting for someone to even take an interest in me. Maybe one day."
"I don't think that will be hard, Rosie."
My food stopped in my throat mid-swallow as my eyes darted to meet his. He just nonchalantly stabbed another pierogi.
"What," he chuckled, his mouth still full. "I think you are a very interesting woman."
I felt my cheeks get hot. They must have gotten red because he smirked at me and shook his head.
"You're funny."
I took a sip of my water again and rolled my eyes, smiling lightly.
"I really don't know what's so interesting about me..." I pushed my kielbasa around.
Peter dropped his fork. "Really? Do you really want me to go there?" He looked at me from across the table. "You have a charming personality, you're smart, willing to feed me like I'm some homeless cat. Don't know why you'd do that. Let alone you come from god-knows what time period..."
"I come from the year 2024. It's not like I'm from the future-future..."
He rolled his eyes. "To me, that's the 'future-future'."
"Alright, alright" I waved my hands in front of me in a jokingly defensive manor. " I guess it is. But I don't come from a time where we have flying cars. Still waiting on that shit to go down. But to me those traits don't seem special to me. It's just who I am." I shrugged.
He gazed at me, his eyes softening. "Well, let's just say that you're truly one of a kind. I don't know what it is about you, Rosie. You're something else."
I blushed a little at such kind words coming out of a man who seemed to be a vampire. Dark and secluded, with no one else to really relate to. You really couldn't judge a book by it's cover.
"Well, thank you."
We continued eating, talking about his day at work and how things were going in the studio. Topics about his hobbies and what he liked to do in his free time came up as well. It was refreshing to hear him talk about the things that he loved to do. After we were done, he started trying to clear the dishes from the table.
"What are you doing?"
"...Cleaning up?"
"That's my job, mister." I got up, cleaning up whatever else I could get my hands on.
"What? You cooked the dinner. This is the least I can do to help."
I sighed in defeat. "You're just so gosh-darn helpful. It's so nice." I giggled and went over to the sink, dropping in the rest of the dirty dishes. I started rooting around the cabinets, trying to find some tupperware to put the leftovers in. I made my way over to the stove and made a little doggy bag for Peter. I handed it to him, our hands gently grazing each others as he reach out to take my gift.
"What's this for?"
"For lunch or dinner throughout the week." I motioned to the pots and pans on the stove, still filled with tons of food. "I'm going to have leftovers pouring out of my ears."
He looked down at the bag in his hands.
"You didn't have to do that."
"Well, I did. So enjoy your food, Peter. If you need more throughout the week let me know." I looked up at him and smiled.
He grunted and thanked me.
"You're also welcome to come over for dinner any time. I prefer cooking large quantities of food anyway. Makes cooking easier." I leaned my back against the counter.
"That's a dangerous offer to make to a guy like me."
"Well I meant every word, so please do come over. I missed talking with you anyway."
"Really?"
"Really really." I laughed a little. "I love hearing you talk. Maybe that's just the inner psychological professional in me, but I really do love conversing with you. It's refreshing. You're so intelligent, so kind, so very sarcastic. It's great."
"I wouldn't go too far with saying I'm intelligent." He said sarcastically.
"See, there you go again." I shook my head, smiling to myself. I gazed up at him, he seemed to be lost in thought, staring at the floor.
"Something on your mind?"
He snapped out of his little trance. "No, no. Nothing really."
"Mhm, okay."
There was a pause.
"I'm gonna head out. I have to feed my cats." He said quickly. He started walking towards the door, doggy bag in hand.
I followed him out the door to the doorstep. He stood on the second step and looked at me, almost wondering what to say next. He wasn't even close to being at eye level with me.
"Thank you for dinner." He said softly.
I looked around, wondering why he was talking so. "It's really not a prob-" and before I could finish what I was saying, he pulled me into his embrace.
It felt like I was being hugged by a bear. He towered over my short frame so much. This hug was so warm and inviting. It made me tingly all over. I could hear his strong heartbeat from underneath his shirt. We stood there like that for a few seconds. I cherished every moment. He let me go and I felt his lips graze my forehead, planting a gentle kiss there. I closed my eyes and relished in the feeling. He looked down at me, his hands running up and down my arms oh so gently.
"I'll see you Friday, Rosie." He said in his rich, baritone voice. It sent shivers down my spine.
"Okay, I'll see you." I smiled lightly at him.
And with that, he turned and walked down the sidewalk towards his house. I sighed and returned back to the warmth of my own home. I cleaned up the rest of my dishes and shut all of the lights off on the bottom floor. I sat on the couch in the living room with a glass of wine, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. I didn't know how to feel about our interaction. I have read about the encounters of him and groupies. I didn't know if I could trust where he was trying to take our relationship. I didn't want to be a second option for him. I knew my self worth. But I didn't know if he wanted a true relationship yet. The man was well known for jumping into relationships way too fast though. I sighed. What am I getting myself into? I acknowledged I was starting to have some feelings for him. I just didn't want to get hurt. Maybe, if I could, I could put off us having a relationship. I went to bed with an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Tomorrow will be another day.