For her date with Peter, Alice decided to wear a long, knitted dress buttoned up at the front and ankle boots. Peter had given her his address, so at five in the evening she left her building and headed for his house. She was both excited and anxious. College guy’s houses could be scary. They could range from generally unclean to sanitary service emergency. And the bathrooms… ew. The only boy’s room she’d ever seen cleaner than hers was Jack’s; he was too fastidious not to clean after himself. Not that it mattered. Other than for group projects, they weren’t going to use his room for any extracurricular activities.
She had to stop thinking about Jack. He wasn’t a variable in her sentimental equation anymore. She was going on a date with Peter, not Jack. The tall, blue-eyed team captain needed to be her sole focus. What would Peter’s house be like? Alice was about to find out. She stopped in front of a mahogany wood-framed house, a duplex actually, and double checked the address before ringing the bell.
Peter came to the door wearing gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. Why are guys in sweatpants instantaneously ten times hotter?
They hugged on the threshold and he showed her inside. The house smelled of eggs but in a good way. Despite this being a college-boys-inhabited apartment, the place didn’t look too dirty. Not stark clean, but not gross either.
Alice followed Peter behind the kitchen bar where he had two pans on the stove.
“Mmm.” She inhaled deeply. “Smells good. How come you can cook?”
“I’m part Italian on my mother’s side. She taught me.”
“Wow. Can you speak Italian?”
“Un po’.”
“That sounds like Spanish, un poco. How about something more elaborate?”
“All right. Sei bella come il sole.”
Alice recognized the word “bella.” He must have paid her a compliment of some kind. Hearing him speak Italian was too thrilling to be wise. So she moved on to safer topics. “That was cool. What are you making for dinner?”
“Grazie. And I’m making spaghetti carbonara. Please tell me you’re not a trouble-eater.”
“Trouble-eater?”
“Yeah, you know, vegetarian, pescatarian, gluten-hater, or something like that.”
“I’m not, I swear. I love pasta, and I couldn’t live without bacon.”
“Great, because this recipe has both. I’ve opened the wine if you want to pour us a glass.”
Alice turned toward the bar where the opened wine bottle and glasses were. This was all very grown up. Much more of a mature date than what she would have expected from a college boy. It was the kind of date Ethan would have taken her on.
She winced at the thought of her ex. Her heart was still a bit sore from the breakup—er, dismissal. In the span of two weeks, her boyfriend had dumped her and her best friend had returned her romantic advances with the warmth of an ice block. If it weren’t for Peter, she’d be at an all-time low. He was the perfect distraction, one that could cook delicious pasta with loads of bacon in it, judging from the smell.
Alice poured the wine—red, of course—and handed Peter a glass. “So, you live here alone?”
“No, I have a roommate. He’s visiting his family this weekend, and he doesn’t have classes on Monday, the lucky bastard,” Peter said. “He’ll be back tomorrow night.”
Leaving them alone in the house for the entire evening. Well-played. Alice wasn’t sure if she wanted to sleep with Peter tonight. As dates went, it was so far so good, but her mind wasn’t made up yet. She decided to go with the flow and see where the evening would lead.
Alice didn’t comment on the Home Alone situation, so she just lifted her glass and said, “Cheers.” She clinked her glass against his and they both took a sip.
Peter started working on the sauce while Alice hovered behind him. He bent over a bowl beating raw eggs with a fork and mixing them with some kind of grated cheese. Watching him cook made him sexier than usual. He still hadn’t kissed her, although she wished he would.
He lifted the lid off the stockpot, probably to check if the water was boiling, which it was. Then he threw some salt in, followed by the spaghetti, set a timer on his phone, and turned to her.
“Did you enjoy the game last night?” he asked.
“Actually, I did.”
“You seem surprised.”
“I am a bit. I thought sports were boring, but when you have a team to cheer for, it’s exhilarating.” She beamed at him. “Congratulations on the win.”
Peter shrugged. “Thanks. We didn’t play at our best, though, and the season is long.”
“Madison said Harvard was a bit on the cheap side, as basketball pavilions go.”
“She’s right,” Peter agreed, surprising Alice. “But a degree from Harvard is a degree from Harvard. There’s no topping that.”
“So you chose a better school with a less-than-stellar team?”
“Yeah, basically.”
“Even if you’re shooting for the NBA?” Alice asked.
“Scouts will spot talent no matter the team you play on, and I could get a serious injury at any point in my career. A good degree never goes away.”
Peter was proving to be more levelheaded than she’d expected.
“Cheers to that,” Alice said, taking another sip of wine.
Peter checked the timer. “The pasta will be ready in a minute,” he said, and came closer to her. She was leaning with her back against the kitchen bar, and he trapped her between it and his body. He set his glass on the bar, took hers away, and put it down next to his. “Which means I have exactly sixty seconds left to kiss you.”
He wrapped his arms around her back and pressed his lips to hers. Alice’s entire body warmed, an electric current spreading through her from head to toe. When the beeping timer put an end to the kiss, Alice wished pasta took longer to cook.
“You can sit down,” Peter said, pointing her toward the table. “I’ll bring the pasta over in a second.”
Alice noticed the laid table for the first time. The living area was an open space that included the kitchen, the main living room, and a small dining area on the side. The table setting wasn’t too fancy, but, again, impressive for an alleged college jock.
“Mmm, this is delicious,” Alice said after tasting the first forkful of spaghetti. “You have to give me the recipe.”
Peter shook his head, smiling. “Not possible. If you want real Italian pasta, you’ll have to come to me.”
Was he planning another date already? “You mean you want me to knock on your door whenever I’m craving great pasta?” she teased. “That could become a problem.”
“With you, it wouldn’t be.”
Bit cheesy, but Alice let it slide, accepting the compliment. A girl could get used to wonderful homemade dinners and a stream of compliments coming from a smoking hot, tall guy in sweatpants.
“I haven’t made any dessert,” Peter said once they’d finished eating the pasta.
“Oh, that’s all right.” Alice patted her belly. “I’m already so full.”
“Want to finish the wine on the couch?”
Heat rose in her cheeks. She was certain the couch was heavy-making-out territory. “Sure.”
Peter emptied the bottle into their glasses and picked them both up, guiding the way to the living room. They sat almost on top of each other, her legs across his lap, her back leaning against the puffy couch arm. They chatted a little longer, Peter casually stroking her shins as they talked. Her head was spinning a little—because of the wine, or because of Peter, she couldn’t tell.
I like him, she realized. A lot. The night they’d met, their first date, and now tonight—everything with him was perfect, exciting, new. Peter wasn’t the superficial jerk Jack insisted he was.
Jack. She didn’t want to think about him or her unrequited love for him ever again. Alice wanted to close that book and move onto a much more interesting read.
When her glass was empty, Peter took it from her and set it on the coffee table. He pulled her fully onto his lap and they started kissing. After a while, he flipped them over and laid her on the cushions, pressing his body on top of hers. That’s when Alice knew they weren’t simply going to make out and then say goodnight—she was aching for more, and she could tell he was too. Peter was an amazing kisser, and her toes curled as she imagined what he would do to her in a bed.
Alice tried to stay in the moment and not think what it’d feel like if it was Jack on top of her. She needed to move on with her life. She was too old to believe in fairytales; time to grow up. Ethan, Jack… they were her past. Peter was her present.