Italicized words are from Taylor Swift's The Way I Loved You
Penelope trails her index finger around the rim of her wine glass. She can't help how bored she feels as she stifles another yawn from her mouth. The man sitting across from her was everything she should have wanted in a partner, he was kind and sensitive. He held her door open for her, pulled out her seat as she sat down fro dinner. He listened to her when she spoke and actually paid attention to the details in the conversation.
He was considerate, never came over without calling, and asked her if she needed anything before he showed up. He didn't grip her face between his hands and slam his mouth to hers in order to get her to stop rambling. He didn't rip her clothes off and push her to the brink of desire in the darkness of her office. He didn't drive her insane with thinly veiled jokes about what he planned to do to her the second they were alone.
The man sitting across from her was a Doctor, he was prim and proper, he didn't trail his fingers along her inner thigh and slide them into her. He didn't demand that she maintain her face as he slowly brought her to an orgasm while eating his dinner. He didn't take her in the backseat of his car in a darkened alley because he couldn't wait until they got home to bury himself inside of her.
He didn't do anything that caused her insides to clench and a delicious warmth to rush between her legs. He didn't cause any feelings to run through her body, but that's why she chose him.
Matthew wasn't Luke, and that was the point.
But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain. It's 2AM and I'm cursing your name. You're so in love that you act insane. And that's the way I loved you. I'm breaking down and coming undone. It's a roller-coaster kind of rush. And I never knew that I could feel that much. And that's the way I loved you.
"Do you want to try some of this salmon?" Penelope can't help herself from rolling her eyes and stabbing at her salad with her fork. She didn't know how many times she had to tell the man that she had been dating for months now that she was a Vegetarian by choice. She shakes her head, piling the food into her mouth to stop herself from screaming out in aggravation. "Oh, I'm sorry, I don't know why that keeps slipping my mind." Penelope chews her food slowly before reaching out to pick up her wine glass, bringing it to her lips and tasting the bitter red he insisted that they order. It was divine he had said, it tasted like shards of glass on her tongue.
"Excuse me," she mutters tossing her napkin onto the table by her half eaten salad and grabbing her purse. She walks slowly away from the table, her pace quickening the further away she got from the man. Penelope bumps into a woman making her way out of the bathroom, apologizing profusely while trying to hold in the tears. Her memory assaulting her at the last time she was sitting in this restaurant, eating the same meal that she was now, and the stifled argument that they had over their dinners.
Penelope remembers how he had pushed her up against the wall as he followed her into the bathroom, pressing his lips against her jaw and using his knee to pry her legs open. She remembers the rushed motions as she unbuckled his pants, and he placed her against the door to bar other people from walking into the room. She remembers the loud moans that fell from her lips, and the barely contained shouts of his name. Penelope remembers how he settled her on her feet, holding her steady as she righted her dress and controlled her breathing. She remembers the whispered I love you as he tucked his shirt back into his pants.
Matthew wasn't Luke, she realized as she finished washing her hands in the sink, nobody entering the bathroom after her.
He can't see the smile that I'm faking, and my heart's not breaking, because I'm not feeling anything at all.
"Are you feeling okay?" Matthew asks when she slides back into her seat across from her, a wide smile on her face. She nods at the man, slipping her napkin back onto her lap and reaching out to grasp her wine glass, bringing it to her lips and finishing the contents, hiding a sniffle.
"I'm fine," she tells the man as she places her cup onto the table with too much force, a small droplet of the red wine hitting the white table cloth. Penelope watches as the wine spreads, staining the cloth with a sigh. She smiles up at the man sitting across from her, his bow tie immaculate under his chin, and picks up her fork. Penelope concentrates on spearing the lettuce onto the prongs, taking her time to chew the contents while looking out the window. Listening to the words coming from Matthew's lips, but not actually hearing them.
She remembers how Luke would chase her around the apartment, him in a pair of sweatpants and her in his t-shirt and a pair of panties. He would eventually catch her outside of the bathroom, tickling her sides and pulling her into his embrace while planting kisses over her face. Penelope remembered how the good days outweighed the bad, how they would spend lazy Sunday afternoons curled up on the couch watching something on the television. She remembers how she would always slide down the couch, her hands reaching into his pants to grip him. He would hold her head in place, lifting his hips in a tantalizingly slow rhythm as he thrusted into her mouth. He would brush her hair out of her face and whisper loving words to her as he emptied himself into her mouth, and she would find his face incredibly sexy as she swallowed.
She remembers how he would pick her up off of the floor, walking her to the bedroom with her legs wrapped around his waist. He would keep her there the rest of the day, both of them naked between the sheets, each of them battling the other for dominance. She remembers on those days how she would run the emotional gamut, realizing that all she ever wanted was the man holding her so delicately in his arms. Penelope would fall asleep in his arms, after he would make promises of everything that was to come for them, marriage, children, a bigger house. She believed every word he said.
"Penelope?" She blinks, the restaurant coming back into focus around her. She turns her head to the man, smiling softly at him, the emotion never reaching her eyes.
"I'm sorry," she whispers. Standing on two shaky legs and tossing her napkin on the table. "I have to go..."
Matthew wasn't Luke, she realized again, as she hailed down a cab in the pouring rain. Looking back to find the man still sitting at the table.
And you were wild and crazy. Just so frustrating, intoxicating, and complicated. Got away by some mistake and now, I'll be screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain. It's 2AM and I'm cursing your name. I'm so in love that I'm acting insane, and that's the way I loved you.
The lights are on when she pulls up in front of the house, and his truck in parked in the driveway. She knew his schedule, she still had the same one, and it hurt every damn day at work. Penelope reaches into her purse, tossing money at the taxi driver and peels her heels from her feet. She remembers the first time she walked up this stretch of pavement, giggling in her intoxicated state as she hopped from one stone to the next, his hand wrapped securely around her waist. She remembers how he had peeled the red dress from her body, kissing every inch of exposed skin he could come across. She takes a deep breath as she stands on the doorstep, her finger darting out to punch at the bell, in the pouring rain. Her hair is plastered around her shoulders, the purple dress she had quickly tossed on today clinging to her curves, and she can feel her mascara running down her face.
"I loved you," she whispers when he opens the door. "I really, truly, loved you."
He looks behind him into the house while stepping forward onto the step and into the rain, his bare feet squishing into the welcome mat she bought for him. He sighs, pulling her into his chest and pressing his lips to her forehead, her cheeks, and finally her lips. His hands coming out to cup her face, pulling her closer to him with each movement of his lips against her. Luke trails his thumb across her face, moving her hair off of her face with a groan. Penelope wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her face, her right hand pressing into his cheek. Her breasts heaving against his chest as he turns them, pressing her body against the door with a loud thud. He pulls back from her, shaking his head as he does so, a whisper falling from his mouth: "I know."