(For disclaimer, etc. - see chapter 1)
Chapter 3
P.J. was not having a good time. Well, that wasn't strictly true. Italy was beautiful, seeing the sights was awesome, and spending time with Steph and Brando was never a hardship. Still, this wasn't quite how she had been expecting to spend her vacation, the three of them together all the time.
P.J. hadn't been alone with Brendan at all since Stephanie came busting into the hotel room like a whirlwind of tears and indignation. Apparently Lance was not the guy she thought he was. Cheap and disgusting had described both the motel he wanted them to stay in, as well as the man himself when Steph got into full flow. Brendan had shown sympathy, but then made a sharp exit, saying he should get to his own room already. P.J. was too stunned to react and not willing to say anything in the circumstances. When Steph asked to stay in P.J.'s room with her, she just couldn't let her best girlfriend down.
From that first night on, the threesome had done everything together. It was as if the kissing P.J. and Brendan had enjoyed never happened at all. At least she assumed he enjoyed it, because she sure had. It hadn't been her original idea when inviting him to Italy, well, not entirely anyway, Maybe way down deep inside she had a thought or two about it, but that was all. Now it seemed they were destined to be playing at all BFFs together until they got home, and no doubt things would go back to normal. P.J. couldn't help but think how that would really suck after everything that almost happened.
This particular evening they had ended up back at the hotel, eating in the restaurant there. Somehow they had gotten through the better part of threes bottle of red wine, though P.J. hadn't really noticed until the bill came. Steph had slipped off to the bathroom, wobbling all the way and her friend stared at the glasses on the table.
"Pretty sure I only drank two maybe three glasses of wine," she said, looking at Brendan.
"That was my third too," he admitted as he gulped down the last of his drink and set the glass on the table.
"Ooh, Stephanie is going to regret that in the morning," P.J. shook her head, as she dealt with the cheque.
It was only after when she looked over at Brendan that she realised he was already staring at her. This was the first time they had been alone for more than a minute since the first night and their serious make out session. It was the opportunity she had been waiting for and yet P.J. had no idea what to say. Seemed she didn't have to since Brando spoke first.
"Peej, I'm sorry about that first night here," he said too seriously.
"Really?" she checked. "Um, so you're sorry we made out, or you're sorry we got interrupted?"
He looked confused, troubled, like he was worried that picking the wrong answer would make matters worse. Brendan was useless at this kind of thing and scared stiff of ruining everything. Then he remembered that this was P.J. She always forgave him when he screwed up because she understood he never meant any harm. Whatever he said would be fine just so long as it was the truth.
"The second one," he said eventually, leaning closer across the table then. "That was the interruption and not the kissing, right?"
"It was," P.J. agreed, feeling stupidly bashful as she leaned her arm on the corner of the table to get in a little closer too. "So, what does that mean for us, exactly?"
Brendan didn't have an answer to that, he really wished he did, but the proximity of her lips to his own was awfully distracting. She looked beautiful, then again P.J. always did, even in sweat pants with her hair tied back, lounging around the apartment on a Sunday. Most especially when she was fancied up like this, in a dress and heels, sparkling brighter than any jewellery she accessorised with. She was enough to take a man's breath away, and she floored Brendan every single time, even after all these years.
It wasn't planned, he just couldn't help it. He kissed her, and she kissed back, her hand on the back of his head holding him close enough to keep the moment going. Neither of them were thinking about the fact they were out here in public view. After all, this was Italy. No-one here knew them or cared what they did, well, except for one.
"Stephanie," P.J. gasped as she pulled away at last.
"No, Brendan, remember?" her best friend joked.
P.J. rolled her eyes and forced herself to sit back properly in her seat.
"She only went to the bathroom, Bren, she'll be back any second," she told him in a whisper.
"And you don't want her to know that..." he said, waving a hand between them in some vague connecting gesture.
He looked almost sad about it, looking to P.J. like a puppy she just kicked. Poor Brendan, he deserved so much better. He wasn't like the other guys who went out cruising for chicks, he was what you might call a serial monogamist. He wanted a girl he could stay with, settle down with. P.J. wasn't certain she was ready for that for the longest time, and yet, the idea of her and Brendan together forever, raising kids and growing old, that wasn't even a little bit scary. Realising how not scary it was suddenly hit P.J. like a smack in the face, and became completely frightening in a whole new way.
"I, er... I just think that until we have a chance to talk about what we're doing, maybe it's better than we don't involve anybody else," she shrugged.
Brando didn't look happy, not even a little, but was prevented from saying anything about it as Steph appeared again. She looked decidedly worse for wear.
"Ugh, I think there was something wrong with the fish," she said as she slumped down into her seat. "I just had a nasty experience in the ladies room."
P.J. bit her lip and looked sideways at Brendan. He wouldn't meet her eyes. In fact, before she could blink he was up from his seat, tossing his napkin on the table.
"C'mon, Steph," he urged her up and put his arm around her. "I'll help you back to your room and you can sleep off the... fish," he said with a slight smirk, knowing just as well as anyone that it was the wine that was to blame.
He didn't even look back at P.J. as they walked away.
Kenny looked daggers at Mike, folding his arms across his chest.
"You're an idiot," he snapped.
"Hey, man, what did I do?" his friend look all kinds of affronted.
Unfortunately for Mike, here was no sympathy from the rest of the group all hanging around on the pavement outside of Crowley's bar.
"Sorry, man, but I gotta side with Kenny on this one," said Bobby, literally standing beide him in solidarity. "Sleeping with our waitress and not calling? Very uncool," he shooked his head.
"Where do we go now?" asked Mike pathetically, almost putting his nose against the glass of his beloved bar.
It was his fault they got kicked out for a week and he knew it. That didn't mean he wasn't sad about it.
"I have the emergency key to my sister's place?" said Andy eventually, checking his keychain.
He was about to retract his comment when he suddenly realised he was right, the key was right there between two others that meant nothing.
"You don't think P.J. would feel weird about us being at her place when she's not there?" said Bobby, even as they began heading in the direction of P.J.'s place.
"Who cares?" Mike shrugged easily. "We gotta go somewhere, and she'll never know about it."
"I hate to agree with the idiot that got us banned from our usual hang," Kenny told Bobby, "but he is correct on this occasion."
With that decided the guys headed off to P.J.'s place, vowing not to make any mess or break anything, so that the girl herself would never know they were there. Like that was really going to work out!
P.J. couldn't sleep. It wasn't just that Stephanie was snoring like a bear with sinisitus, though that wasn't helping. Even in silence, P.J. wouldn't have been able to find any peace when she knew Brando was right down the hall hating her. Maybe hate was too strong a word, but he wasn't happy right now and she knew it. She all but shut him down in the restaurant downstairs and that really wasn't fair. They really needed to have a properly grown up talk about their relationship and it had to be now before it was too late.
Before she had a chance to talk herself out of it, P.J. hopped silently out of bed. She threw on her sweats and sneakers, then crept out into the hallway. Brando's room was only a few doors down. She just had to hope he was awake and that nobody caught her rapping on his door like some stalker freak or a desperate woman looking for a booty call. She felt she got pretty lucky when on the first knock he came to see who was there.
All rumpled and sleepy, Brendan was the cutest guy. Truth be told, he was pretty cute all the time in P.J.'s opinion, though she never really let herself think about it too much if she could help it. Dressed up, he was handsome, and like this he was adorable. He ran the gamut between those two ends of the spectrum, via sexy, on a pretty regular basis, and it was getting harder and harder not to notice lately. That had to mean something.
"Hi," she said awkwardly. "I couldn't sleep."
"Me either," he admitted, moving aside to let her in.
He wasn't thrilled about the way she behaved before, but they couldn't talk in the hall, that would be crazy. The fact she was here had to be a good sign. She made absent comments about his having a really great room, even though it wasn't much more than a smaller version of her own. She ended up sat on the ottoman at the end of the bed and he shifted awkwardly not knowing where to go himself.
"You remember when this was normal?" she asked with a wistful smile. "Back in college, when we couldn't sleep or just didn't want to? I'd come crash in your room or you'd come to mine, and we'd just talk all night about anything and everything, and play poker. It always felt... normal."
"I remember," he agreed, nodding his head. "I loved those nights."
It all felt so intense and strange, but good at the same time.
"Brando, I...I don't know what we're doing here," P.J. confessed at last, standing up and walking over to him. "I mean, downstairs in the restaurant, I honestly never meant to hurt you. This just feels so weird, in a good way, but... but it's you. It's us, y'know? And that makes it pretty scary."
"You think I don't know that, Peej?" asked Brando with wide eyes. "I'm more terrified about this than anybody, but after all this time... The truth is I just can't imagine anybody else in my future, only you," he admitted, putting a hand to her cheek.
It was amazing. He was saying just exactly what she had been thinking. The future was scary all on its own, but Brendan was always there whenever she pictured it and that made it okay. Friends to lovers was supposed to be the best relationship if the transition ran smooth. P.J. wasn't great with guys most of the time, and women just seemed to walk all over Bren given the chance. The two of them always ended up back at the beginning with their arms round each other, maybe fate was trying to tell them something.
P.J. leant into Brendan's touch, moved in one step closer so there was almost no space at all between their bodies anymore. He took the hint and leaned down to kiss her gently. She sighed.
"We can make this work, right?" she asked earnestly. "I mean, all these years, everything we've been through."
He smiled at that.
"We live together, Peej. We talk about everything. There's not much left that boyfriends and girlfriends do that we haven't already done," he shrugged. "Well, except..."
"Uh-huh," she nodded in understanding, feeling as embarrassed as he looked right now.
"But that's totally cool. I mean, no pressure from me, I swear," he told her quickly, just in case she was worried.
Honestly, he felt as terrified about making that leap as she might be. Brendan acted cool most of the time, but honestly, screwing things up with P.J. was terrifying.
"Let's just take it one day at a time, see what happens, okay?" she suggested, letting her arms slide up around his neck.
"That works," he agreed, smiling down at her. "I love you, Penelope Jane Franklin," he told her what she already knew, in whatever context it might have been said before.
"And I love you too, Brendan Dorff," she replied in kind, right before he kissed her again.
Somehow, it just felt right every time.
To Be Continued...