Okay, sorry it took so long to get this up. The next chapter should be up soon too. Thank you all so much for the reviews you make me want to do a happy dance! Anyway sorry this chapter is such a downer, the next few will be downers too, so... Review!
Oh and I apologize but there is bad language in this chapter, but it isn't too much. Sorry, but that's why it's rated T.
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He's too short.
Yeah, that's it. That is the only reason I'm not crazy about Oliver. I mean, he is funny, smart, kind, and incredibly handsome. The only reason that I struggle to stay awake during our dates is because he is nearly an inch shorter than me. That's why. It's not like I'm in love with anybody else, so it must be the height thing. I think I'll start wearing shorter heels on our dates.
Tony is a couple inches taller than me even with my tallest heels. Damn him.
"That'll be nice don't you think?"
My head snaps up and I stare at Oliver for a few minutes blinking like I had just walked into a bright room. I watch him and I see how utterly handsome he is. He is the same age as me, 32, and he has the good looks of a model. By appearance he was technically more handsome than certain people…like my boss. But he didn't have the charming smile or the easy demeanor or the intensity that made Tony Stark the most desirable man in the world. The man before me is vanilla ice cream, it tastes delicious, but it always comes in second to chocolate. Vanilla was waiting for me to respond.
"I'm sorry. What did you say?"
Oliver sighs and gives me a small, tolerant smile. Oh, did I mention that this guy is nicer than Gandhi and Pope John Paul II combined? What is wrong with me? "Are you okay, Pepper?"
He gives me a look that makes me wonder if he can read my thoughts. I avoid his gaze and pick up a French fry, stuffing it in my mouth while trying to give him a quizzical look. I probably just look constipated.
"I mean," he continues, "we have been dating for a few weeks now and I feel like you hardly ever talk." He pauses and stares down at his plate, carelessly pushing the food back and forth. It inexplicably annoys me. "I feel like I am the only one ever speaking. I understand why you don't talk about work but I don't know why that should completely derail our conversations."
After he finishes his little speech, he stares at me until I return his gaze. I sigh and say without thinking, "We've only been dating for two weeks, it feels like forever." My eyes go wide at what I said and my chest constricts but Oliver beams at me. Thank god, he thought that was a good thing. But I didn't mean it in that romantic "I feel like I have been with you" forever way, it was the "Last day of school watching the clock get slower and slower as the end of the day approached" forever.
Oliver seems satisfied with my answer and he goes back to prattling on about his summer in Prague or Rome. I let my eyes gaze over and I feel like I am back in school, waiting for the day to end. I go over my schedule in my head and I realized I shouldn't have gone out to lunch. Tomorrow was the party for the new museum opening and there was so much she should be doing right now. There were the caterers to double check with, the musicians, and the ice sculpture was yet to be finished.
"Oliver," her date stopped mid-sentence and looked at her with a question in his eyes. "Hey, I gotta get going, there is still so much I have left to do for the party tomorrow and I really can't let it sit anymore. Do you think you can get the check?" I stand and busily put my cell phone into my purse. Is it bad that I keep my phone right by hand during on all my dates with Oliver? Yeah, it probably is.
He stands too and pulls me close to him. "I would love to get the check," he says in a low voice. I feel nothing but slightly worried that I will fall because my heels were currently bent at an odd angle. He takes my wobble as attraction and pulls me into a forceful kiss. I respond appropriately but all I can think about is if the caterer remembered that three of the dishes were to have no fish and whether the senator who was coming was allergic to basil or nutmeg. We pull back at the same time and I give him a sweet smile.
"Bye. I'll see you at the party tomorrow, okay." He nods and I kiss him lightly on the cheek.
I pull my sunglasses out of my purse as I walk out into the hot Californian sun. As I walk towards the valet, I hear familiar gunning of engines and I see a very familiar, expensive car driving away.
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"Pepper! Pepper! Paging Dr. Pepper!"
I stop yelling and realize that if she didn't respond to that one then she is either gone or I have done something very wrong. I feel my shoulder droop. It has been three weeks since that day in the workshop and they hadn't talked about it at all. In fact, beyond the normal business stuff, they have hardly talked about anything. She had been completely cordial and perhaps even a little cold. And he had been too afraid to do anything beyond a half-hearted attempt at banter. He wasn't sure if he was afraid that she would shoot him down or that she would respond. Both we're pretty damn scary.
However, today he was feeling a little more brave and he wanted to see if they could have a repeat of their earlier lunch date. Yet he checked every room in the house and his faithful assistant was no where to be found.
"Jarvis!"
"Sir, Ms. Potts didn't say where she was going but she left an hour ago. I have already tracked her movements and she is currently at the Sandcastle restaurant."
I smile at Jarvis' ability to know what I am thinking, there is only one other person who can anticipate what he's thinking as well as Jarvis and she is currently eating lunch all by her lonesome.
Grinning like a Cheshire cat, I run into my room and quickly throw on jeans and I sniff a T-shirt before pulling it on. Grabbing my leather jacket I call out to Jarvis, "Send all my calls straight to voicemail and lock up the workshop, thanks."
I hear Jarvis say, "Of course," before I hop into one of my favorite cars, a 2008 Bugatti Veyron, and peel out of the garage.
I feel a giddy nervousness as I drive closer to the restaurant. Jesus, I feel like I'm sixteen again. I wince inwardly, my teen years were not the best of my life. I was such a loser, not that it is surprising. How cool can a sixteen-year-old genius, whose knowledge of girls was all theoretical and not actual experience, be? I thank god that I grew out of the awkward tallness, the pimple-ridden face, and the inappropriate erections. I pause. Well, two out of three isn't too bad.
Yet, being around Pepper makes me feel just like that nerdy kid all over again. She doesn't fall over herself to please me like all the other women. From day one, no matter what I said, did, or didn't do she was always right there with me, or one step ahead of me. She throws me off balance, while at the same time keeps me from falling over. It's scary to admit, but she is the only one who really has the power to destroy me, with one look she can utterly devastate me.
With that happy thought in mind, I pull up to the restaurant. Not wanting to deal with the valet, in case she kicks me out of the restaurant I park across the street. There's a bounce in my step as I jay-walk casually towards the restaurant. I am only a few feet away when my Pepper-radar goes off and I see her sitting by the window.
She's not alone.
There's someone with her. A man. A handsome, young man.
My world tilts at a forty-five degree angle and I struggle to stay standing. My brilliant mind automatically accesses the situation before my eyes. My brain catalogues and categorizes the situation with frightening detachedness, my emotions still rolling around on the ground from the deadly knife wound to the heart.
His name is Oliver Harrison. He is thirty-two, the second most desirable man in Stark Industries. He is one of the board members, head of our energy technology division. A generally likable guy, very smart, the husband type. He was absolutely perfect.
My emotions finally have caught up and I feel the horrible urge to go into the restaurant and beat the living shit out of the perfect man. I don't do anything though. I just stand frozen and watch as Pepper, my Pepper, stands and is pulled into a passionate kiss by her date. My heart shatters into a million pieces.
The earlier urge to beat up the man is replaced with the drive to rip him apart limb by limb. However, I am still feeling like the nerdy sixteen boy, so I do what the boy would have done, I run away. I pivot on my heels and practically sprint to my car. I slam the car door and I peel out of the street, not caring about any traffic laws.
I get to my house in record time. I get out the car and slam the door close so hard that the entire car shakes. It feels satisfying.
I turn to my workshop and I calmly walk over to the worktable with various inventions I had been working on. I pick up a new prototype of a battery that could store enough energy to power a car for a week. I weigh it carefully in my hand. I suddenly see the searing kiss again. I can't take it anymore.
"FUCK!" I scream as I take the fragile battery and throw it against the wall, it shatters into thousands of un-repairable pieces. I lose it, I start to slam, throw, and destroy everything I can reach. The only thing saved was the suit and even then it was only because by the time I got to the suit I was totally drained of all energy.
When my workshop is only a battleground of destroys pieces of metal, I finally slump against the wall. No tears come, no words of lament, nothing. All I could think about was how stupid I was. I thought she loved me, I thought we had a chance, I thought we were meant to be together. I love her so much, and I wished she loved me too. But I was wrong, so damn wrong.
I kick at the remains of an innovative invention at my feet, before I get up and make my way to the kitchen.
"Sir?" Jarvis sounds tentative and I know he saw my little outburst. I don't answer him.
I open up several cabinets and pull out the largest bottle of scotch I can find and a glass. I remember the light kiss Pepper gave her lover and I roughly return the glass to the cabinet.
Taking a deep swig of the scotch, I make my way to my office, fully intending to drink until I can't see her soft face or her blue eyes anymore.
"Sir." Jarvis seems as worried as a computer can be. "Sir are you alright. Your vitals show you are in great distress. Your heart rate is—"
"Jarvis," I stop him mid-sentence, "fuck off." There is a long pause which, to me, sounded like Jarvis was sighing. I am left alone in complete silence.
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Don't make Tony any sadder. Review.
