First Time: Penny's Story (First Time (Penny) Book 1)

by Abigail Barnette

  I laughed to myself and scrolled down the phone screen, because I couldn’t look him in the eye at the moment. I couldn’t believe I’d said that. “Let’s go onto the next one, since you just mentioned it. We’re not supposed to bring up religion.”

  “Technically you brought it up, by running into me in the park on Sunday,” he said.

  Oh my gosh, did he think I was stalking him or something?

  I was about to defend myself when he went on. “So, are you religious? ‘Not religious, but spiritual’? Are you a druid?”

  “No. I wanted to be a druid, but I just couldn’t get past the human sacrifice.” I reached for a nectarine. I didn’t want to get strawberry seeds in my teeth. “I’m not religious. Or spiritual. I wasn’t raised in a religious family, so it never occurred to me to pick up a faith.” Well, a faith besides financial success. “I went to bible camp with my best friend when we were in high school, but it didn’t change anything. But I am very superstitious.”

  “That’s fair. At least you’re not a godless Protestant.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was kidding, or if he was actually that Catholic.

  “Catholic joke,” he clarified.

  I knew absolutely nothing about Catholicism, and definitely no jokes about it, but that didn’t stop me from trying and failing and embarrassing myself. “Right, because of Henry the Eighth.”

  I took a bite of nectarine, because it would taste better than my foot.

  “Sure, yeah.” Ian cleared his throat and asked, “Are there any more items on the list we haven’t covered?” and I couldn’t tell if he was offended by my remark or not.

  There was such a high potential to look like a jerk when I tried too hard, but I could never seem to stop myself. “Pets,” I read, grateful for the subject change. “It says guys don’t like hearing about our cats on first dates. That’s rude. It’s not like every woman who has a cat is a cat lady.”

  His eyebrows rose. “I have a cat, and I’m not a cat lady. Of course, I’m not a woman, either.”

  “You have a cat? I love cats!” I couldn’t remember ever meeting a single guy who owned a cat. Maybe it was his ex-wife’s cat, and she didn’t take it with her? Either way, Ian considered it his cat, and that was going on the “pro” side of my pros and cons list. But just so my enthusiasm didn’t scare him, I added, “Which is probably the exact reaction ‘don’t talk about pets’ was warning you about.”

  “Ambrose is a great cat. And I’m not just saying that. He’s never once peed in my shoes.” He paused and picked imaginary lint from his shirt. “Except for the shedding. I could do without all the fucking shedding.”

  “Hey, you used the f-word!” I blurted. I’d been delighted to hear it; on our first date, he hadn’t started swearing until we’d both relaxed and started actually communicating.

  “I’m sorry. I do curse a lot. It’s something I should work on.”

  I hoped that he didn’t. I kept a pretty clean vocabulary, myself, unless I got a little alcohol in me, but I enjoyed people who had the confidence to fling obscenities like candy at a parade. It was funny, as long as the situation wasn’t inappropriate. Sometimes even when it was.

  “No, it’s fine! I think it’s a sign that you’re loosening up. Maybe all the taboo topics did you some good.” I dropped my phone and took another bite of my nectarine, noting the way Ian’s gaze moved to my mouth. Even though I hadn’t had sex yet, I still appreciated feeling sexy. The way he was looking at me, I felt the way Rihanna must feel every single time she looked in a mirror.

  There was that flirty bravery again. I slowly dragged the tip of my finger across my bottom lip to wipe away a drop of juice while he watched like he wanted to lick it off himself.

  “So. Do you feel any better, now that we’ve made all the mistakes?”

  He shook himself out of his momentary trance. “I do. Honestly, I don’t know why they say not to talk about these things on first dates. It would get a lot of out of the way right at the start.”

  “But imagine if we’d had this conversation on our first date. At the restaurant. Where you wanted to kill an octopus,” I teased. It would have been a disaster if we’d tried to talk about any of the things we’d just talked about, because every word out of our mouths had been some sort of misunderstanding at the time.

  “The octopus was probably already dead,” he defended himself. “I didn’t realize you were so passionate about them. I didn’t realize anyone was that passionate about them. Speaking of which… I have to know where the tattoo is.”

  “You don’t have to know.” I was going to tell him, but the flirting was too fun. “But if you want to know…”

  He reached for my hand, pulling it away from where I smoothed down my skirt. The moment his skin touched mine, goose bumps stood up on my shoulders. His hands swallowed mine between them. My heart beat out of control. I couldn’t remember what we were talking about.

  Then he said, very serious, his voice low, “Penny. May I please know where the octopus tattoo is?”

  I couldn’t tell if I was relieved I hadn’t made a fool of myself over his joke or disappointed it had been a joke. With a nervous laugh, I pushed his hands away and said, “Yes, fine. It’s on my right hip, in front. And it’s about the size of a fifty-cent piece.”

  He visibly swallowed.

  “Do you have any tattoos?” I tilted my head as I considered the possibility. “You seem like the type.” Or maybe I just wanted him to be the type. The foul language, the drawing, I kind of wanted to find out he was some reformed bad boy with an artistic soul.

  “There’s a type?” It sounded like news to him. “No, no tattoos. I’ve never felt the urge.”

  Well, damn. “Here I was, imagining that under your suits and ties you were hiding some sexy bad boy past.” I finished my nectarine and wrapped the pit in a napkin.

  “The extent of my sexy bad boy past are some very stupid pranks I pulled in college.”

  Ah, well. You can’t win ‘em all.

  I leaned back on my hands. The sky was bright, crystal blue and dotted with cumulus clouds. It was exactly the kind of sky you’d expect on a hot summer day. It reminded me of Up, and how my friends and I had left the theatre and gone back to my house to lay on the grass and point out shapes in the clouds while we talked about what college was going to be like.

  That seemed like such a long time ago, now.

  “This was a perfect idea. Even if it’s a little crowded.” There were women next to us having a competitive-sounding conversation about their babies’ weights and percentiles, and two artsy types sketching the castle across the pond. Joggers and cyclists and tourists crammed the paths, but our little blanket felt like a calm, private island in the sea of activity.

  “Is it?” Ian looked around us. He was obviously way more used to being constantly surrounded by tons of people than I was.

  That was one thing I hadn’t gotten used to in New York, and since I’d been living here for four years, I probably never would. Everyone was right on top of each other.

  “Yeah, I just noticed, myself. I guess I was so caught up in—” you, I finished mentally. I waved at the picnic basket between us. Suddenly, it seemed like a total third wheel. “Here.” I moved it then scooted a little closer to him. “We still have room to stretch out. I want to do something I haven’t done in a really long time. Since Pennsylvania, actually.”

  It was a little difficult to lie down on the blanket and get comfortable without my skirt flying up, but I managed, and folded my hands over my stomach because I was far too aware of my body in the moment. “You have to look up,” I told him with a nod.

  He hesitated but got down on the blanket, too, close enough to me that his arm brushed mine. “I assume we’re looking for shapes.”

  “Yes. And then I’m going to judge whether or not you’re a weirdo or a pervert based on the shapes you see.” And speaking of weirdos and perverts, there seemed to be a giant set of tits floating in the sky. “Oh my
gosh, that one looks like boobs!”

  “I was going to say an ice cream sundae, but look who’s the pervert, now,” he said dryly. “The sky today looks like something out of a cartoon.”

  “Those are cumulus clouds,” I said without thinking. After years of hearing “no one likes a know-it-all, Penny,” from my mother and seeing exactly how true that was with guys I’d dated, I should have learned by now. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like a know-it-all.”

  He gave me a strange look. “You don’t sound like a know-it-all. But you do apparently know it all. First octopuses, now this?”

  “Octopods,” I corrected him automatically and cringed. “Sometimes, I can be overbearing, I know.”

  I couldn’t face him. I felt like everyone I met got the same idea: that I was full of myself, that I thought I was a bigger deal than I was or smarter than everyone else. And I didn’t feel that way, not one bit. Most of the time, I felt the exact opposite of smarter-than-everyone-else.

  “Hey, no. Don’t do that,” he said softly. He sat up a little, propped on his elbows. “There’s nothing wrong with being smart, Penny. Jesus, I’m fifty-three, and I didn’t know what that kind of cloud was. I don’t remember what any of the clouds are. I would have said cumulonimbus.”

  “Nimbus is only added if there’s precipitation involved,” I said, and I bit my lip to stop myself from saying anything else.

  His expression shifted, like a barrier had crumbled between us. I’d shown him more than I’d realized. I’d shown him vulnerability, a hole in my super-peppy-positive-Penny armor.

  “Penny…can I kiss you?”

  My throat closed up. I became dizzy with the ridiculous thought that this didn’t feel like just a first kiss, but a first step. And maybe it was too early to think that, but I wanted it, as badly as I wanted to know what his mouth felt like.

  I nodded. “Yes, please.”

  He rolled to his side, rising on his elbow and leaning down. He planted one hand on the blanket beside my waist, so his forearm lay across my ribs. I was sure he could feel how erratic my breathing was.

  What the heck was I doing? This was a public park, with people all around, and I didn’t care one bit if they saw me kissing a man in broad daylight. Public displays of affection weren’t really my thing—at least, this public—but as Ian’s mouth touched mine, I couldn’t worry about that anymore. Just the smallest contact flushed all shame from my brain. I lifted my head and just went for it, opening my mouth under his, hoping he would follow my lead when I darted my tongue against his lower lip.

  He didn’t just follow my lead, he took the lead, sweeping his tongue into my mouth, stealing the breath from my lungs.

  There’s nothing in the world like a first kiss. Tingles zipped from my mouth to the very best place. Ian quickly rose from top five to number one first kiss of my life. It was the most toe-curling, vagina-clenching kiss I’d ever had, first or not. Now I understood how this could have woken Snow White.

  I dove my hand into his hair and resisted the temptation to push him down to my neck, my collarbone, my—

  “Excuse me!”

  The voice was so loud and sharp, I reacted on reflex, jerking away from Ian as he leaned up on his elbow. The women with their babies were staring at us like they’d just seen us slaughter a goat right in front of them. I couldn’t look them in the eye, so I pretended to fix my hair.

  “Excuse you,” Ian replied. “The lady and I were occupied.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t be occupied with that in public.”

  I snuck a peek at the woman. She was wearing yoga pants and a tank top that said serenity on it. She needed to get back to whatever yoga studio that was, pronto, because she had clearly lost her Namaste.

  Knowing Ian’s love of and proficiency with obscenity, I wondered if he was going to fly off the handle or something. It seemed unlikely, for as chill as he was, but this lady was being super rude. So it surprised me when all he came up with was, “Maybe you should mind your own business.”

  I chanced a look at the women. They were both packing up their things.

  Then one of them said, “You’re old enough to be her father. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  I could get objecting to someone making out in front of you—even though there was an entire park full of other people they could have gawked at instead of us. But I didn’t understand making such a cruel remark. It had to have embarrassed Ian terribly. And if he was embarrassed…

  Would he be too embarrassed to go out with me, again?

  And that was it. That’s what made me snap, “Take your ugly babies and fuck off.”

  The moment it came out of my mouth, I hated myself. I recognized the tone of my voice, and it was the immature, stupid girl from Pennsylvania, being cruel just because she could.

  If Ian hadn’t been embarrassed before, he probably definitely was now.

  The women took off fast, while Ian sat there in stunned silence until he managed to choke out a “well”.

  I covered my face with my hands. “I am…so sorry, that was totally inappropriate and immature.”

  “Well, you didn’t have to insult their babies. That was a bit over the top.”

  My heart plummeted so fast I imagined it shattering on the ground. But Ian reached out and skimmed the backs of his fingers down my arm, and his touch assured me we were still getting along.

  So did his next words. “But if this is something…ah. I know we just met, and this is our second date, but I’m hoping there will be more in the future. And if there are, people are going to comment on the age difference.”

  His touch gave me goose bumps, so I rubbed my arms. “I know. And I know people will be rude, because people are people. But I like you, Ian. I want to go out with you, again.” I laughed. “I want to make out with you again.”

  “Well, I’m not going to turn you down,” he said hoarsely, and cleared his throat. “And I like you, too. Just so we’re even on that score.”

  I looked down at the blanket and over at the teenagers who were trying to watch us in the wake of our verbal altercation. “Look, I ruined our picnic—”

  “They ruined our picnic,” he corrected me. “And it’s not ruined. We can still have a good time here.”

  “Yeah, we could do that.” I cocked my head. “Or…we could go to my place and do that make-out thing I just mentioned.”

  His eyebrows went up. Way up. “What happened to going slow?”

  “I didn’t say you were going to get to round all the bases.” I hadn’t kissed Brad until our third date. Hot and heavy making out? I hadn’t even wanted to for a couple months. When I had done it, it had been because I’d felt I’d owed him something. I didn’t owe Ian anything. But I really wanted to give something to him.

  Not that. I still had no idea about that.

  He scratched the back of his neck and looked away from me. “I’m tempted. I’m sorely tempted. But you said you wanted to go slow. And I want to respect that.”

  That was sweet. In theory. He was still turning me down, and I couldn’t help but worry this was all because I’d lost my temper at those women, and now he was reevaluating me, in general. But that was stupid, because he’d just said he liked me. So what was the problem?

  “I’ve got an idea,” he said suddenly. He pointed toward the two teenagers down by the water, drawing the castle. “I’ll be right back.”

  He walked off with purpose, calling out, “Hello there,” and crouched down to talk to them. I wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he took out his wallet and gave them a bill. Was he buying drugs?

  One of them ripped a few pages out of their sketchbook and passed it to Ian, then took a pencil behind their ear and handed it over. Ian stuck out his hand, gave both the people a hearty handshake, stood, and came back like nothing weird had just taken place.

  “Um…what was that?” I asked him once he got close enough to hear me.

  “Oh, those are my new friends, Nate and Lexi. Lexi was
kind enough to sell me her sketchbook.” He held up the pencil. “What do you say? May I draw you?”

  I took a breath and made a surprised noise I couldn’t control. “Wow. Yeah. I can’t believe you would pay someone for their sketchbook, just to draw me.”

  He shrugged. “Money well-spent. It gives me an excuse to stare at you without being creepy or uncool.”

  I pulled my legs criss-cross applesauce beneath my skirt and sat up straight. “Okay, but if you’re going to draw me, you have to make my nose a little shorter.”

  “Never. Your nose is perfect.” He sat across from me and flipped the wire-bound sketchbook open. Then he looked up at me, and I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. I must have looked nervous, because he smiled and said, “Just relax. You’re not sitting for your presidential portrait.”

  “I’ve never had anyone draw me before. It’s kind of nerve wracking.” And sexy. To have someone scrutinize you so closely was exhilarating. I’d never experienced that before, since I’d spent large enough chunks of my life trying to be seen but not looked at. Like a pretty vase or something.

  God, that was sad. It was even more sad that it took a virtual stranger being nice enough to just look at me, really look at me instead of letting his eyes pass over me on the way to the next thing to realize how miserable my view of myself had been until that moment.

  “It’s nerve wracking for you? I’m the one performing here.” His gaze darted down to the page, and he made his first marks. I couldn’t see, but it seemed like he’d drawn a really fast circle. The pencil jerked around in short, sharp, but very deliberate movements. He kept looking up at me, and his expression was inscrutable. I found myself doubting every part of my face. When he looked too long at my chin, was it because it was too prominent? What did he think of my lips, that his eyebrow twitched up like it did?

  I knew what I thought of his lips.

  The silence was suddenly stifling. The park seemed loud and irritating, when it hadn’t been before. I had to distract myself, even if it meant distracting Ian. “I’m trying to not say anything. I don’t want to break your concentration.”