Bellamy's Redemption

“Well, isn’t it obvious?”

“What about Bellamy?”

“Bellamy is, like… not real.”

“He might be soon. Emma, think about it! He might be soon!”

“Yes, that is pretty crazy. Do you think you’re really going to meet him?”

“Yes!”

The door swung open. It was a new waitress. Someone we hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting yet. “Who are you talking to?” she asked. She looked horrified.

I looked around pretending I thought she was talking about someone other than me. The restroom was empty, of course, aside from the two of us. I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry, despite the many drinks I’d had. “No one,” I said, stuffing my perfume and lipstick back into my purse.

“I heard you talking,” she said firmly.

“I was talking into my… blue tooth device,” I said. I wasn’t entirely sure what a blue tooth device was or whether people even still used them anymore. Then I said, “Why is everyone who works here so incredibly rude?”

She went into one of the stalls and loudly slammed the swinging door shut. It bounced back open and she grabbed it again, locking it in place. “Crazy bitch,” I heard her mutter.

I returned to our table, trying to look composed. As soon as I sat down, our new waitress came back and set the bill on the table. Like our previous waitress, she didn’t budge. As Pete got out his wallet she yawned and then pulled herself together a little, brightly asking, “So how were your meals?”

“Very good,” said Pete, handing her some money.

“Thanks,” she said, turning sweet and addressing just Pete. “Have a super night.”

“Shall we?” he asked me.

“Yes, please.”

We went back up the little steps to street level and stood shivering in the cold, waiting for our cab. Before very long our driver arrived, and after a short ride, we were back at home. Our elevator was working again, so we took it up to our floor, both of us awkwardly silent. As we approached Pete’s apartment, he slowed his pace. “Would you like to come in?” he asked.

“I think I’d better get to bed,” I said.

“So we’re going to your place?”

“Funny, Pete. Very cute.”

We stopped in front of my apartment. I took out my keys, trying to hide how nervous I felt.

“I had a great time,” he said.

“Me too.”

“Sorry it was so weird.”

“With you, weird is good.”

And then it was happening. He leaned in, his eyes closing, his right hand gently touching the back of my neck. His lips touched mine, softly at first, and then urgently. I kissed him back, not caring about my friends’ opinions of him, or the potential of Bellamy, or the tiny particles of meat that were probably in his mouth. His left hand was on my back a moment later, pulling me close to him. I wished we didn’t have bulky winter coats on. I wanted to peel mine off, but I just kept kissing him. His lips and tongue, as crazy as it sounds, were like extensions of his soul. This wasn’t just a kiss; I had the dreadful, doomed feeling of a person falling in love. I pulled away from him.

“Oh my God, Pete,” I whispered.

“What? What is it?”

“I think I need to go.”

“Uh… Okay. Why?”