Italicized words are from Paloma Faith's Only Love Can Hurt Like This
"Oh, I'm so sorry..." Penelope exclaims as she reaches out to wipe at the person's chest she had just slammed into, crushing her coffee cup between them, and spilling the contents over both of their bodies. She's gone red in the face, her mind drawing a blank as she stares up into clear blue eyes, getting lost in their depths. His hands reach out to steady her, stopping her assault on his body with the napkins she grabbed from the nearest table. They were warm, she thought to herself, but not in the igniting fire along her skin way that she was used to. She remembers the way his hands had caused her to sweat and be cold at the same time. The way he would leave a trail of goosebumps over her flesh, a pebbled road map to showcase where he had been.
"It's fine," the man replies, smiling down at her warmly, the bowtie tucked gently under his chin a sharp contrast to his darkened skin. She smiles back up at the man, offering to pay for his dry cleaning and to buy him a new coffee, even though it was hers that was spilt over the both of them. Penelope knows that she had never spilt coffee over Luke, but she had tossed a glass of water in his face after some insensitive comment fell from his lips. She remembers the playful smile that crossed his face as he wiped the liquid from his eyes, and she remembers fondly, the way he had taken her against the kitchen counter. "I'm Matthew," the man tells her, holding out his hand in order to shake hers. Penelope realizes that there's no shock of electricity, no fluttering of butterflies in her stomach, no instant need to wrap her legs around his waist.
"Penelope," she counters, ducking her head to hide underneath her hair. He was a good looking man, that she couldn't deny, but his eyes weren't brown, and they weren't staring at her with an intensity that made her squirm in her seat. They didn't cause a waterfall to erupt between her lower lips, they didn't cause her to want to be near him all the time. His voice was smooth to her ears, too smooth to be considered normal, and it didn't cause a shiver to run down her spine. It didn't cause her to close her eyes with a deep sigh as he coaxed her into sleep.
"Can I buy you a drink, tonight maybe?" Matthew looks down at her hopefully and she finds herself nodding, simply because he's not the man she keeps comparing him to. No, Matthew isn't Luke, she tells herself as she enters her number into his phone with trembling fingers. Luke would've gripped your waist and pulled you into his embrace by now, Luke would've tossed his coffee into the trash and bought you both new ones, Luke would've detoured back home to change clothes and fucked her in the hallway.
Luke was passion, but Luke was gone.
I tell myself you don't mean a thing, and what we've got, got no hold on me. But when you're not there I just crumble. I tell myself I don't care that much, but I feel like I die 'til I feel your touch.
She dresses silently for their first date, sliding a blue dress over her curves with a forlorn smile, not really convinced that she wanted to be going on this date. Her heart wasn't in it, but she should at least try. That's what she had told herself all day, what she had told JJ, what she had told Emily. It's the sentence that she uttered to Spencer as she watched Luke walk by her, his eyes roving from her head to her feet and back up again. It's the sentence she whispered as he undressed her in the span of a second, the glance causing her thighs to shake against the desk she was leaning on. It's the mantra she repeated as she stood next to him in the elevator, too close for comfort but not sure that she could step away from him.
The perfume she sprays onto her neck was his favorite, and she remembers that it used to drive him wild. The necklace she slides onto her neck was one that he had given to her a few months into their relationship. They were supposed to go out to dinner, but the sight of her in the short black dress caused the man to growl and gather her into his arms. He had peppered kisses along her collarbone, biting at the skin on her neck, roughly dragging the zipper of her dress down to expose her chest. She remembers the way he hiked the skirt of her dress up, turning her to face the wall as he slid into her. Yes, she remembers every single moment of their time together.
He picks her up in a fancy car, mumbling something about hand stitched leather, and she rolls her eyes. She misses stepping into the cab of a truck, pushing dog toys out of the way, and tossing her feet onto the dash. She loved riding with the windows down, the wind blowing into her hair, and belting out the lyrics to the song playing on the radio. She loved the feel of his warm hand sliding up her thigh as he steered the truck in and out of traffic, navigating the streets like he had lived here his entire life. She rolls her eyes as Matthew wipes the seat off when she exits the vehicle, leaving her to step onto the curb on her own, something Luke never let her do. He would always hoist her from the seat, planting her onto the sidewalk, and help her smooth her dress back over her legs. A jealous glare in his eyes at anyone who dared to look in her direction.
Matthew was kind, and attentive, and he said all the right things at exactly the right times. He poured her wine, stood when she approached and exited the table, and didn't talk too much about himself. He held the door open for her when she slid back into his ridiculous car, using his sleeve to wipe at the area her fingers slid across before walking back around to his side. He parked the car as close to the curb as possible outside of her house, walked her to the front door, and smiled so sweetly at her. Penelope tilts her head, waiting for a kiss on her lips that never came, instead his mouth falling to her cheek. He thanks her for a lovely evening, and promises to call her again. But Penelope remembers her first date with Luke, the desire to be close to him consuming her every cell as he pushed her against the door to her apartment. His lips hungrily kissing their way down her chin as she fumbled with her keys. She remembers the laughter that bubbled from her chest as he shoved the pink key into the hole, turning the metal and shoving the door open with a bang. She was sure there was a hole in the wall, but she didn't care as he kicked the door closed. Her hands were too busy pulling at his shirt, yanking it open, buttons scattering across her floor.
"I had a lovely time too," she tells him, smiling as she unlocks her door with the same pink key, a sense of loneliness cascading over her body as she enters the apartment and turns the lights on.
Luke was lust, but Luke was gone.
Say, I wouldn't care if you walked away, but every time you're there I'm begging you to stay. When you come close I just tremble, and every time, every time you go; it's like a knife that cuts right through my soul.
Her first fight with Matthew came after she introduced him to the team, she had stood a little too close to Luke, his arm a little too close to hers, his eyes a little too friendly as they roamed her body. It was the first time she had felt a fire with the man standing before her. He was disheveled with his bow tie undone, his suit jacket was tossed onto her couch, and her hands were balled into fists as he tried to convey to her exactly how he was feeling. Luke was always good at this part, she remembers, her mind traveling to the Hispanic man screaming at her in Spanish, his hands flying around his body. He would slam the pots and pans onto the stove before beginning to cook dinner, shouting at her as she packed her belongings in another room, with frustrated tears streaming down her face.
She remembers the last fight they had, the one that prompted them to finally call it quits. She couldn't remember what it was over now, something stupid about a box of macaroni and cheese which had sent her into a tail spin. He had left the dishes piled in the sink again, not rinsing out his dishes, and had proceeded to settle himself onto the couch siting exhaustion the moment he got home. She remembers seeing red, taking his favorite glass from the sink and letting it fall from her grasp. She watched as the cup shattered around her, glass flying everywhere, his attention finally on her. Penelope remembers wanting so badly to stop what she was doing, but she continued, reaching back in for plates, and bowls, and mugs.
"I can't live like this anymore," she had shouted to him as she rubbed her hands over her face, pulling the flower from her hair. "I just can't do this."
"Then don't Penelope," he countered snatching the broom and dustpan from the hall closet, angrily sweeping at the mess she had made. "If you're so unhappy then leave."
She remembers that she did leave, packing up what little belongings she had at his place and driving home to the apartment she paid for, but didn't live in. She remembers ignoring his phone calls, his texts, and his eventual banging at her door, begging her to come home. That it was just another stupid fight that they could get over. His yelling telling her that they could get over anything as long as they were together, and she wanted to believe him, honestly she did. Penelope can recall that she cried herself to sleep that night, sobbing into the pillow that still smelt of his shampoo. Wondering if she had made a mistake.
"Are you even listening to me?" Matthew says, his fists unclenching as he rubs at his eyes.
"Of course I am," she replies, her eyes filtering out of her window, sure that she can see a blue truck idling outside.
Luke was longing, but Luke was gone.
Your kisses burn into my skin, only love can hurt like this. But it's the sweetest pain, burning hot through my veins. Love is torture, makes me more sure, only love can hurt like this.
She walks Matthew to the door, her eyes landing on the familiar blue truck parked across the street, a hood pulled over his head to avoid recognition. Penelope watches as Matthew sits behind the wheel of his car, telling her that he will call her in the morning, and speeds off into the night. She stands, wrapping her cardigan around her shoulders, watching his tail lights disappear around the corner a few lights down. A calm settles over her as his hands land on her shoulders, his fingers sliding up and down her arms quickly. His face dips into the crook of her neck, puckering his lips and kissing the exposed skin.
Silently she breaks from his embrace, letting her fingers connect with his as she drags him through the hallways and into her home. She watches as he kicks the door shut, locking it behind him without looking, his eyes never leaving hers. Penelope reaches up to push her cardigan off of her shoulders, letting the material flutter to the floor with a resigned sigh. His hands turn off the lights, enveloping them in darkness, the small penguin in the corner the only source of dying light.
"Why do we always end up here?" Penelope closes her eyes, counting the many reasons she shouldn't be here in this position, the biggest one being her boyfriend. Her phone lights up in the distance, signifying that Matthew had arrived home safely, texting her like he always did. She takes a step forward, letting her fingers dance across his chest, sliding their way around his neck with a soft sigh.
"I can't quit you," she replies as his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her into his body, his lips crashing down onto hers with a needy moan.