SEVEN
For their fourth date, Pieter shows up at her door with a box of pizza and no other plans. The best things in life happen without being planned, anyway.
"Are you free this evening and what sort of pizza do you like?" Pieter asks as soon as she picks up the phone. It's seven-thirty in the morning, the weather is freezing and she's at least ten minutes away from having her first cup of coffee. Holle mumbles her way through a list of toppings, agrees to dinner in her apartment and promptly hangs up to burrow into her sheets and block the world out for five more minutes.
It isn't until noon that she realizes she's agreed to a fourth date with Pieter.
"What kind of person," She asks Pieter later that evening, the both of them cramped into the makeshift breakfast nook in her kitchenette. "Calls a girl up at seven in the morning to ask about pizza?"
Pieter grins, folding a slice of pizza into half. "You're the one who told me you've never had pizza before. What else was I supposed to do with that information?"
"I said no such thing," Holle protests. "Of course I've had pizza before; I merely meant that I haven't had this kind of pizza. It's very oily," She considers the nearly-finished slice in her hand. "But good."
"Gourmet Italian pizza with spinach as a topping does not count, Holle," Her companion shakes his head in dismay as Holle chews on the last bit of pizza crust. "This is American pizza! It is as the Universe meant for pizza to be served." Pieter, she's quickly learning, is the kind of person who talks with his mouth, his hands and sometimes even his whole body. He'll use anything within range to illustrate his point and it's quite endearing, but right now Holle worries that he might have forgotten he has a slice of pizza in his hand and is this close to painting her kitchen red with tomato sauce. So when she leans forward and snatches Pieter's pizza from his hand, it's really just a spur-of-the-moment decision to keep her kitchen walls clean. She's just as taken aback by her own actions as Pieter seems to be, but Holle covers that up by taking a bite of the folded-up slice and slowly chewing as Pieter watches her.
"I have no idea how you can stomach multiple slices of this," She tells Pieter, noting that his half of the pizza seems to have three times the amount of toppings as compared to hers. "One bite and I'm full." There's something to be said about stealing someone's food, an odd sort of intimacy that accompanies the ease with which she had taken a bite out of his pizza. Pieter seems to acknowledge that, maintaining eye contact as she returns the stolen slice. Holle, on the other hand, chooses to brush it off.
"Has anyone ever pointed out that you have a bit of a fascination regarding American culture?"
Pieter forces down a mouthful of pizza before he speaks. "How so?"
"You seem to champion them," Holle points out. "American pizza, American athletes… even those odd sayings, though I still believe you made up at least half of those and simply attribute them to Americans."
"It's a shame you won't ever know for sure," Pieter shrugs as he takes another bite of his pizza, chewing contemplatively as he considers Holle's observation. "I suppose I just like the idea of America." He finally decides. "A place where anyone can become someone, and overcoming life's obstacles is celebrated. Their musicians, athletes, even their politicians – some of them came from absolutely nothing, and they're idolized for rising above adversity to become these inspiring success stories. No one is going to say well, yes, you're a millionaire now, but you're not the same as those who were born into it, or even you'll always be less, somehow, than people who didn't rely on scholarships and welfare. I think for all of their odd sayings and their remarkable talent when it comes to butchering foreign cuisine, that's the one thing they have that- I'm sorry," He comes to a sudden halt; shakes his head and offers Holle an apologetic smile. "I'm talking too much, aren't I?"
"No!" Holle insists, perhaps a bit too forcefully. "No, not at all. I've never thought of it like that, but you're right. It's just – unexpected, is all," She adds weakly, trying to explain the distracted look she knows Pieter must have noticed in her eyes, causing him to stop mid-sentence for fear of boring her. "It always seemed like a running gag, you and your little American jokes. I wasn't expecting something like this." A pause, and then: "Not that I thought you were simple-minded or shallow or-"
Pieter chuckles at the frantic edge to her words as Holle tries to avoid any unintentional insult. "Holle, it's alright. Really. I know what people think of me. And to a certain extent, it's true. I am mostly just an easygoing guy. But I don't think any of us are just one thing. Take you, for example-"
"What about me?" Holle interrupts, eyes wide and voice wary.
"It's nothing bad," Pieter assures her with a laugh. "But the other night, when we went to the benefit concert – it seemed like something you'd enjoy, based on what you've told me about your life. And you seem the kind to be used to all of these fancy galas and things. But when we actually got there, you were just as uncomfortable as I was, nothing like your usual self. I think that's the first time I've ever seen you look out of place."
Holle fidgets with her napkin, methodically shredding it into pieces. "It's not what you think," She tells Pieter before he can go on.
"So you don't usually spend your time at these things looking over your shoulder the entire evening?" Pieter jokingly retorts, feigning skepticism.
"Far from it," Holle gives in to a little laugh of her own. The more she thinks of it, the more ridiculous the entire situation seems. "It's just – I hadn't realized it was a charity concert until after we got there. And then I realized the non-profit involved was one that my mother sits on the board of." She shrugs, tries to convey a message of silly me via her eyes. "I was… worried she might show up."
Pieter furrows his brows contemplatively. "Huh," He finally says. "I did not see that coming."
On a list of why my date seems oddly nervous, Holle supposes her particular reason doesn't quite make the first thirty or so entries - if it's even on the list at all. She tells Pieter as much with a weak smile.
"Well, my point still stands," Pieter steers them back to the original conversation. "You're usually this outgoing, independent, grown-up woman, but there's still a small part of you that dreads running into your mother. And then there's the side of you that's willing to just stay in on a Friday and have pizza with me. As for me: I'm usually the court jester, but sometimes you'll find there are certain stories behind some of my quirks. A method to my madness, as they might say," He grins.
Holle laughs, her face lighting up in delight. "I think you actually got that one right," She gets to her feet and Pieter follows suit, the both of them making quick work of the empty box and the used napkins that litter Holle's tiny breakfast table.
"Do I get some sort of prize for that?" Pieter jokingly asks as Holle rinses out the glasses they'd used.
She moves aside to let him wash his hands. "You've earned one, I suppose," Holle smiles impishly as Pieter turns around in her tiny kitchen to face her, settling both hands on either side of her waist. "Did you have something specific in mind?"
"As a matter of fact," Pieter murmurs as he closes the distance between them, the rest of that sentence forgotten as soon as Holle leans forward to initiate the kiss. He means to walk them over to the armchair across the room but with their eyes closed, it doesn't come as a surprise when he ends up backing Holle up against a wall. For her part, Holle seems perfectly content with this arrangement, sighing happily as she wraps her arms around Pieter's neck. Her eyes shine when she opens them, and the sight has Pieter smiling into the hollow of her neck.
Pieter is the first to draw away, unwinding his arms from around Holle's waist. "I should go," He sighs reluctantly, mustering up a wry smile for Holle. "We wouldn't want Frau Schultz to get the wrong idea." They share a quiet laugh at the reminder of Holle's elderly neighbor. She'd caught Pieter kissing Holle good-night last week when he walked her home after the concert, and the old widow had made sure to bump into Pieter on her way up the short flight of stairs leading up to the building's main entrance, muttering audibly about the moral decay of society while she shot them pointed looks.
They'd ignored her then, and Holle thinks perhaps they should keep that up. "Pieter," She calls just as he reaches the front door. "Would you…" She hesitates, but the way Pieter turns back around just a tad too quickly – too eagerly – encourages her. "Would you like to stay?"
"But what would Frau Schultz think?" Pieter answers her with a joke, but she appreciates it for what it is: a question, a way out in case she's changed her mind in the five seconds it took for him to reply. But Holle's waited long enough as it is, even stayed awake some nights knowing she could have had Pieter by her side but had sent him away because what would her neighbors think, what would their friends think, what would Pieter think of the girl he'd met just a month ago?
Holle motions for Pieter to come back with a wave of her hand. "To hell with what Frau Schultz might think," She hooks a finger into Pieter's belt loop and tugs him closer, eyes bright and lips smirking. "To hell with what anyone might think."
Pieter smiles, something soft and genuine and relieved. "To hell with what anyone might think," He echoes right before he kisses Holle the way he's been wanting to for weeks now, the way one kisses a lover they have no intention of leaving before sunrise.
In the morning, they both hear the creak of old Frau Schultz's door as she cracks her front door open to bear witness to Pieter's walk of shame and tut disapprovingly at the young couple as they make their way down the hall.
To hell with what anyone might think, Holle reminds herself. The memory of waking up with Pieter's arm slung around her waist and his lips smiling against her shoulder, his words sleep-slurred as he wished her a good morning and told her he could get used to waking up this way, is worth the judgmental look in her neighbor's eyes and the knowing looks and lighthearted teasing Pieter's roommates aim their way for the rest of the week.
Shortest chapter so far, but I think this one took me the most time to write. Sorry about that, everyone. Real life knocked on my door a week ago and has invited itself over for the next three months or so, but I'm determined to ignore my houseguest and keep writing for these two so no worries, friends. I am shipper trash, and I am here to stay and rot your teeth with my cotton candy fluff.
I hope this gives you guys a good idea of what the bonus chapters will be like; they're mostly just little snippets of plot? What plot? I don't expect any of these to hold up to the standard my earlier chapters set but hey: fluff is fluff, no matter how poorly written. Still, I hope you guys enjoy this and don't forget: I'm still taking prompts! It's a good way to trick people into leaving reviews, and we all know I'll do anything for reviews. I should probably get help for that…
E Salvatore,
August 2015.
