For Us (The Girl I Loved Duet 2)

I don’t care if Peter’s not here yet, I need a drink. I’m walking to the bar when he’s suddenly there. So close that I almost run into him. “Hi,” I say.

“Hello.” He smirks. “You’re blushing. Why?”

“No reason.”

He’s smiling, and God I love that smile. “That’s a lie.”

“I just heard something a little scandalous, nothing major.”

Peter raises his eyebrow, like he wants to know more, but he doesn’t ask. But then it’s like he sees me. He takes me in, looks up and down my body, and I watch as his eyes darken. This doesn’t do anything to help the state of my blush. Words. I need words. “I was just going to get a drink,” I say.

“I’ll get it for you. I have a table reserved in the back. I thought since we were planning to talk, as much privacy as we can have here would be a good idea.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Thanks.”

“What would you like to drink?”

I shake my head. I honestly don’t care. “Surprise me.”

There’s that little half-smile that makes me weak in the knees and wet in the panties. “I’ll try.”

Over where he pointed, there is a table with both of our names listed, Michael and Clay’s too, so we’ll have to be conscious of visitors, but the staff member making sure only those who reserved the tables sit there smiles and lets me through.

The alcove the table is sitting in is dark and cozy, the back of the circular bench seat lined with velvet that feels good on my skin. I wore a dress tonight because I wanted to look sexy for Peter, and I don’t know for sure if it’s working but I think that it is. The dress has a swooping low back and a plunging front that makes it clear that I’m not wearing a bra. Only a small strap on the back of my shoulders is keeping both sides of the dress from slipping down and causing a fashion faux pas. The lower half of the dress is knee-length and flowing. I thought it would fit the feel of Fantasia. It leaves something to the imagination, and this place is all about imagination.

It takes a few minutes for Peter to navigate the crowds at the bar with our drinks, but he comes back with a drink that’s an amazing shade of purple and hands that to me. His drink looks like a classic tumbler of whiskey or something darker. He settles in beside me, and I notice the deliberate way he’s looking at my face and not lower. So he has noticed then. He’s noticed and doesn’t want to let himself look until we’ve talked, ever the gentleman.

I take a sip of the purple drink and holy shit that’s good. “What is in this? It’s amazing!”

“White rum is the main ingredient, I think. Simple syrup, Pineapple, and a couple other things.”

“I think you just created my new favorite drink,” I say, laughing.

He takes a sip of his own drink. “I hope so.”

“So you wanted to talk.”

“You did too,” he says immediately.

“Yeah, I did.”

He takes another sip of his drink in a sharp movement. “I want to know why you thought I was quitting the show. You honestly thought I’m so unprofessional that I’d quit the best thing that’s happened to both of us in our careers over a fight?”

“I found your script in the hall. You’d just said that if I wanted you gone then you’d go. I didn’t know if you would ever come back, and you didn’t answer my phone calls for two days. What was I supposed to think?”

Peter grimaces. “I was angry and frustrated. I threw it down because it was the only thing I had to throw. I didn’t mean for it to be a bad omen.”

“It scared the shit out of me,” I say, emotion suddenly welling up. “I knew that I fucked up the minute you were out the door. You were gone. I went after you, but you weren’t there. I’m sorry, Peter. I really am. I was so scared that you and I would lose everything that I wasn’t thinking straight. We could have worked everything out if I had just stayed calmer, not assumed anything.”

“I’m sorry too, but just saying that we’re sorry to each other isn’t going to be enough,” he says, voice low.

“I know.”

He clears his throat, looks away. “I did a lot of thinking while I wasn’t answer your calls. I went through everything a thousand times. And I decided that I would stay away, if that’s what you really wanted. I convinced myself that I could keep it cool and professional. But today…with that kiss. I can’t.”

My body relaxes. “Thank God.”

“But Amber,” he says, “things have to be different. I lost you twice now and both times it’s felt like dying. I can’t do that again, not like this. If we’re together, and somewhere down the line we decide it’s not working, I’ll hate that, but I’ll understand. I can’t have the ground ripped out from under me again.”