After he left, my attention was turned back to Alicia who couldn't resist pestering me over the interaction I just had with Peter. I never told her who he was. In a way, I wanted to keep him to myself but subtle signals gave rise to her meddling mind that there was undeniable chemistry there. At least that's what I thought she was thinking because I wanted to believe it too. I wanted confirmation that Peter felt the same.
The sensation of my skin feeling like it was on fire, with him being the only one who could extinguish it. The burning impulse to escape everytime he was near because his presence felt like the pressure that was needed to ignite the incendiary device that was my heart. The day continued but I was mused. Why was he here? Why did he ignore me at first just to acknowledge me later?
The day followed and my shift was over, I found myself waiting at the front of our restaurants gates for my mother. After about 40 minutes of the relentless agony that I received from standing there stationary for way too long from my pale stubbly feet, she finally decided to arrive. I felt it was necessary to take out my troubles on her rusted down car door when I closed it.
Bang!
"Break it, why don't you?" My mother yelled.
"Sorry, my bad," I apologized knowing damn well I intended to cause harm.
It was only right because the stabbing pain in my legs told me I was justified. Her gospel music booming from her radio assaulted my eardrums. It almost felt like God himself was in our presence. I felt shameful because I was anything but holy that day, I was so besotted.
Following what felt like an intervention from God, we arrived home. I stepped out of the car and searched for Peter with my eyes as if I were watching a tennis match, but he was nowhere in my field of vision. Just when I had lost all hope of seeing him again that day, much to my bewilderment there he was in my peripheral, looking as dashing as ever.
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He was rocking a well-tailored business ensemble, where the sleeves of his blazer weren't remotely long enough to hide his forearms, consequently, it made the tattoos resting on his arms escape from his attire. Where was he going? And why did I want him to take me with him? He left but not before he held a prolonged gaze with me. I made my way inside and went straight into my bathroom.
I undressed myself and immersed my strawberry scented bath bomb in the bath. The temperature of the water dripping from the faucet was fitting, enough for me to soothe my frazzled physique. I submerged myself in the water, down to the strands of my hair didn't touch the surface. I felt it necessary to wash away all my lascivious desires. All the audible voices that was continuously causing me grief instantaneously became mute.
The feeling of the warm water trickling down my naked body calmed me but the time was short lived because my mind inevitably drifted back to Peter. The mellowness of a voice underwater was inaudible but somewhat hypnotizing. I lifted my head from the shallows of my running bath just to hear:
"Tara I'm exhausted, I'm going to sleep, I hung out some clothes outside to dry, the weather is starting to look frightful, if it rains please pick them up!" my mother exclaimed.
" Okay!" I shouted, trying not to sound irritated that she interrupted my zen.
Time elapsed and I forgot about my mother's request. I stayed in the tub so long that my skin looked like a shriveled up prune. The distant sound of the torrential rain rattling our leaky roof and the sights of the misty, thick air plastering fog all over my windows snapped me out of my trance. I sprinted out of the bath, grabbed nothing but my towel, opened the back door to where the clothes were situated and tried to pick them up, leaving a trail of wet droplets in my path. Not one of our garments were salvageable. They were soaked and so was I. I looked up and saw the silhouette of a girl in his room which told me Peter had arrived back home.
The night became gloomy when the rain suddenly stopped and silence filled the atmosphere. With clothes and all in my hand, I stood outside for more than I should have prying. The reflection of the moonlight on my damp skin created a sheen and it almost glistened. Before I had the chance to run away, his door creaked open and strutting down the stairs was Peter and another one of his conquests, I glared at him and he smirked with no regard that he had another woman on his right hand.
He was all bloody and brooding like he had just gotten in a fight. I contemplated whether to address my half-nakedness but before I could, he left abruptly. I guess the scars on his face weren't up for discussion either. I knew his reputation and heard the rumors about his family but I didn't care. I didn't know it then, but I was slowly falling for his bad-boy image.
