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Wrong Time, Write Place (standard:romance, 2360 words) | |||
Author: J. Thalia | Added: Jun 21 2002 | Views/Reads: 3543/2416 | Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes) |
The story of how Pete and Feliz met. | |||
Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story anyone there that I know and to get a break from writing for a second. There she is! I swear, there was the same woman from the night before! Now I know, it's fate, lemme go talk to her. I pick up my stuff and walk over to the half a bench she's taking up. She's just sitting there with her long golden hair blowing in the wind. She's eating a cheese sandwich and looking in the opposite direction as me. She doesn't notice me coming until get right next to her, she looks up with surprise.” “Oh it's you,” she says. “It's really you!” “Yeah I don't think we properly met last night.” I say. “Do you want to go on a date?” she says bluntly. “Are you kidding? I was just about to ask you the same thing!” “Great, meet me here at 8 tonight.” “Will do! Gotta go though.” I leave for home. Later that day, I have the publication forms done, the sample done, so I go to the publishers. Of course they hate it, and my trek was a waste of time. Anyway, I go back home, to cope with rejection. I glance at a clock; it's 20 to 8! I quick change and get to the park with 2 minutes to spare! She's not here! What am I going to do? Is she standing me up? Did she come and go? Is my clock set right? I think about all the possible questions, but then take back everything I've said, I see her coming. We meet, and then we're off. “I was thinking we could go to this great seafood restaurant. How about that?” “I love seafood! Let's go!” we start walking towards the restaurant. “So,” I ask. “What's your favorite movie?” “Well,” she thinks a little. “As Good As It Gets. How about you?” “As Good As It Gets is my favorite too! I've never seen a Jack Nicholson—much less a comedy I didn't like...” She looks up at me. She abruptly stops walking. “What? Is something wrong?” “Wrong? No!” she gazes into my eyes. “You have very pretty eyes.” On that note, we get inside the restaurant and are seated, almost immediately. “Thank you,” I finally respond. “You have really nice hair, hell you're a very beautiful woman, I'm very lucky to be with you right now,” I say. We have an extremely wonderful conversation for the rest of the night. I don't think we left until about 12. We leave, and walk to her apartment building not too far away. Suddenly, there's a strong wind. “Let's meet again next week at 8. Let's meet at...” she says, the wind to loud for me to hear what she says, before I know it, she's given me a goodnight kiss and is inside. I tried to follow her inside to ask where she wanted to meet, but the doors were locked. With a sigh of exasperation, an emotionally sunken person walks home. What am I going to do? I thought to myself. I know! I'll call her! Wait, I don't even know her name! Oh this is bad. I don't want to be in this position! I have got to think of something, I think I love this woman! By that time, I'd gotten to my apartment, stripped off my clothing and was lying in bed, thinking about what I was going to do next week. I fell asleep. “Well Pete I must say, you've got my attention,” Frank says. “Why didn't you bang on her door, trying to get her attention and open the door so you could talk to her?” “Well, I didn't, I don't know why not, but I didn't.” “Go on, go on!” Lisa is getting impatient with Frank. “What did you do next?” Well, the week went by surprisingly fast. I worked at Mama Maria's mostly, and I tried some writing. So Friday night came. She said—or so I interpreted—Saturday, so I went to work with a happy conscience. I was walking to greet a table, when I looked out the window and saw her walking down the street. I ran to the door, but the mat idée stepped in front of the door. “Where do you think you're going?” he asked with his nose high in the air, treating me like some juvenile. “I have to go outside for a minute” “No, you don't, you have table to wait on!” “You don't understand, there's the best woman that's ever come in contact with me and I have to talk with her!” I try to push past him. “No! Go back to your tables, or I'll make you the bus boy!” So, I go back to my tables broken hearted, cheated out of probably a once in a lifetime opportunity encounter with the woman of my dreams the night continued, and when my shift was over (fortunately, exactly at 7:45) I raced out the place you know, maybe I can catch her at her apartment building. For once, there's a receptionist—who seemed like her life was the epitome of Providence's community. I strode up to the front desk most casually—well, I more scuttled than anything, panting, at the same time, trying to keep my cool. “Excuse me,” I said, with the ‘utmost respect'. “Excuse me!” the woman—apparently asleep—woke up. “I'm looking for someone.” “Ok, what is their name?” the woman says groggily. She looks at my face, and then looks me over, she trails down to my feet, then back up at my face. “What is her name?” “Well, haha it's kinda funny really...” I trail off, the illusion of anguish waning on my insides when I come to the realization, I don't know her name. “Ok, well, I don't know—” “Know her name—believe me, you're not the first guy that looks like you, some extremely sexy, deep-looking guy walks in, not knowing her name,” “She thought you were sexy and deep-looking?” Frank says. “I find that a little hard to believe.” “No lie,” I retort. “I admit, I was caught a little off guard by that comment, but who wouldn't think that ‘bout me?” There is a small snicker from Feliz. “Continue honey,” “So, as I was saying,” Pete starts again. “Before I was so rudely interrupted” “Well, you know, it's either Feliz or Anna. I personally know it's not Anna, because she's always with this guy who's not to bad on the eyes...if you know what I mean.” The receptionist says. “Oh, is that so? Well, can you tell me Feliz' room number? That'd be great, we've got a date you know.” “Oh really? That's nice for you, you know I always admired Feliz, she got all the guys, and she was always out having fun, you know doing cool things like that—and another thing, I heard from a friend who heard from her moms friend who heard from—” “Uh, I really need that room number” I was getting a little impatient—who wouldn't, with that woman?! “Oh right, well I'm not actually legally allowed to give you that info.” “Wait a minute,” I was really really pissed off now. “You just wasted my time with your delinquent chit-chat, and you still won't tell me? I'm going to kill you!” “Ok! Ok! She's in room 363, ok? Fine! Just don't tell my boss! “Good, c-ya later—hon.” I go to the elevators and wait for one. Two come down; I go in the one that opens first—it's empty. I push the button for level three; just as the doors close, I notice Feliz walking towards the lobby; she must've been on the other elevator. I yell her name, but the doors close oh so quickly. “No no no no NO!” I punch the door. Finally, ever so painstakingly long, the elevator opens at the third level. Worried about missing her again, I run to the nearest flight of stairs, I run down as fast as my 21-year-old legs can carry me. Exhausted, my heart pounding in my throat, I arrive back at the lobby in under about four seconds. I see something that I'll never forget. At the same time almost made me start crying (with joy) there she was—Feliz—waiting for my return. “I didn't think you would wait for me...” I said with a burst of joy. Before I could say any more, she grabs my face with both hands, and gives me a huge kiss on the lips. We kiss for about 30 seconds, and she stops. “I love you,” she says. “I've never met anyone as fantastic as you are, Pete.” “I feel exactly the same, Feliz.” “After that, we went to a very cool restaurant and a movie. The next thing I know, I can't get her out of my mind, and every time I think of her, I get butterflies in my stomach. About 3 weeks after our loving confrontation in her apartment lobby, I had proposed and she accepted.” “What a wonderful story,” Lisa utters. “It's all true” Feliz reassures. “I am so sorry,” the mystery man stands up. “I never introduced myself, my name is Daniel Victor.” He shakes Pete's unsuspecting hand. “You must be Pete Goetzke. I've read some of your work before, it's good.” “Well, thank you, Mr. Victor, I uh—” “I am a primary editor for the J. B. Lippincott Company, and I was wondering if you would be able and willing to publish the story you just told.” “Excuse me?!” “I have a spot open, you said you were a writer, right? I want to publish your story. Or are you too busy?” “No no! I would love to write this up!” Tweet
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J. Thalia has 10 active stories on this site. Profile for J. Thalia, incl. all stories Email: thejohnhead@yahoo.com |