Love's Intervention
Chapter Twelve: The Silvertop
Phoebe stood in front of the mirror in her room, fussing relentlessly with her hair. She was kind of liking the long hair again, except that she was totally unused to the sudden gain of twelve inches worth. She bunched her hair up in one hand and raised it, then let it fall down. She repeated the action again as Ames walked inside.
"You decided whether your hair's going up or down yet?" she asked, watching as Phoebe arranged her hair on her shoulders.
"I'm thinking down. Definitely down. What do you think?"
"Are you kidding? Put it up."
Phoebe turned around and gave a worried glance to her friend. "Really?"
"No. You can keep it down."
Phoebe restrained from yelling out in annoyance and instead stuck her tongue out at Ames. Ames returned the favor, then gave Phoebe a general look-over.
"You're wearing your dress," Ames observed, as she inspected the dark red dress with black accents that Phoebe was wearing. "This guy must be pretty special for you to take out this dress on the first date. Then again, he's taking you to the Silvertop—guy must have some connections."
Phoebe made some neutral sound in her throat and said nothing, choosing to smooth the non-existent wrinkles on the front of her dress. She looked back at her reflection again; it was a low-necked halter dress that reached all the way down to her ankles, the same dress she owned back in her world. On her feet was a pair of black heels. She had chandelier earrings on as well; they weren't fashionable just yet, but she still owned a pair that suited her quite nicely.
The sound of a doorbell reverberated through the apartment. Phoebe's eyes immediately darted in the direction of the front door, and she headed toward it, her heart pounding.
Phoebe took in the tall figure of the handsome man that was standing in the doorway, holding a bouquet of three beautiful dark red roses. "Wow," Cole greeted her. "You look amazing." He held the flowers to her. "These are for you."
"Thank you, they're beautiful," Phoebe replied, taking them. "Let me find a vase..."
"Looking for this?" Ames held up a slim crystal vase, already half-way filled with water.
"Perfect!" Phoebe exclaimed, quickly removing the roses from their plastic confines and placing them in the vase. After a few quick introductions, the two were ready to go. Phoebe took her black evening bag with her, and then they were out.
Cole pulled into the valet parking of the Silvertop, looking over at Phoebe for about the hundredth time during the car drive to the restaurant. It wasn't the safest thing for him to do while at the wheel, especially on a busy Saturday evening, but he just couldn't stop looking at her. She was so incredibly stunning, especially in that dress of hers.
There was also that part of him that was astounded at the fact that she was sitting beside him at that moment. In a way, Cole could understand—she had acted strangely enough toward him to think twice about it. However, it was more than that; for some reason, Cole could not believe that Phoebe wanted to go to dinner with him. I thought she never wanted to see me again, a voice popped up in his head.
He shook off the thought as he pulled the brake and stepped out of the car, giving the valet attendant an irritated glare as the attendant looked Phoebe up and down. Cole's mind had behaved strangely ever since he met Phoebe at the Manor, and he was determined to make it stop.
Cole held the car door open for her as they stepped onto a red carpet, cameras flashing everywhere for the opening night of the hottest new eatery in town.
"Cole Turner!" exclaimed a rather heavily built man racing up toward them. "I'm so glad you could make it, my friend." They shook hands as the cameras flashed toward their way. "And who's this?" inquired the man further, looking inquisitively at Phoebe.
"This is Phoebe Halliwell, my date for tonight. Phoebe, this is Max Bernard, owner of the restaurant."
They also shook hands, Phoebe's small hand nearly vanishing in Max's large one. "Date for the night, huh?" commented Max, waggling his eyebrows. "Cole is a very busy man, my dear—"
"We're rather famished now, Max, and we can't wait to try out your food, so we'd really like to take our seats now," Cole cut in loudly.
Max beamed, seemingly oblivious to Cole's underlining message. "Of course now! My man Raul will seat you, you remember Raul, don't you? I think, what was her name, Matilda met him as well—" Cole cleared his throat, to no avail "—and don't forget to smile at the cameras, the press loves to see a young new couple!" With that, Max sashayed off to the next group of people getting out of their cars.
Cole glanced at Phoebe, a sheepish smile on his face. Phoebe looked back at him, coolly amused. "You really are a busy man, Cole," she said, slightly mocking.
In response, Cole slung his arm around Phoebe's waist and pulled her body close to his. "Let's just forget about that now, and enjoy the evening, shall we?"
He was half-afraid of her response—would she push him away?—but relaxed as Phoebe leaned against his side as they walked down the carpet.
Meanwhile, photographers, who had caught wind of Cole's name as Max had pretty much shouted it, were furiously snapping pictures at the couple as they made their way toward the restaurant entrance, very much so like a movie premiere. Cole was one of the most successful lawyers for biggest law firm on the West Coast, while his young age and good looks gained him a bit of fame; and though Phoebe wasn't a quasi-celebrity, she was beautiful enough to be one.
One particular newbie photographer yelled out to them. "Over here, Mr. and Mrs. Turner!" The other photographers immediately picked up on that, and gossip reporters scribbled furiously in their notebooks.
At this, Cole knew he was in for a long day afterwards—explanations to coworkers, archives in local newspapers—but he didn't mind. Somehow, it felt natural, as mind-boggling as it sounded to him, and he tightened his hold around Phoebe's waist, even as she stiffened.
Before long, they were sitting in a relatively quiet section of the restaurant, to Cole's relief. He couldn't take any more of the paparazzis' hounding, especially since their calling her Mrs. Turner seemed to close Phoebe right up, if she had opened up at all.
They sat silently, looking over the menu, though Phoebe was really doing it for show. She already knew what was good in the restaurant, though she had never eaten at the Silvertop amid such commotion. The red-carpet thing felt slightly ridiculous, even if it was for the opening of a large, high-scale restaurant. At least she was somewhat comfortable with the press—Jason was a reputable man himself and she had gone with it, except for that time when a prostitute's ghost had taken over her body...
"What are you getting?" Phoebe asked Cole suddenly, more to forget that incredibly embarrassing memory than anything.
"Well, I'm thinking of the lemon chicken, with the asparagus," Cole said, looking over the top of his menu.
Phoebe shook her head. "Don't. It's pretty bad."
"Really now? And how would you know?"
Phoebe sucked in her lower lip. What could she say, that Paige had tried the dish twenty months from now and hated it? She knew how Paige and Cole's tastes were strangely similar, how they only liked sour things to a certain extent—but could enjoy sweets to no end. "A friend of a friend...of a friend knows a cook here, and knows his cooking, and says it's not that great," Phoebe answered, inwardly wincing at the not-very-convincing fib. Why am I even trying? She thought.
"OK then...what would you suggest?"
Phoebe looked at him for a second. "Fried calamari." This particular dish at the restaurant was pretty good, and Phoebe remembered how Cole loved seafood.
"And what are you getting?"
"The fettuccini alfredo..." Cole was driving at something, Phoebe was sure of it. Sure enough—
"How about this. I'll get both the fried calamari and the lemon chicken. If I like the calamari better, you win. If I like the chicken better, I win."
"You're on," Phoebe said instantly. "What do I get?"
Cole chuckled. "You can set the terms, if you want."
"Alright then," said Phoebe, a small grin forming upon her lips. "How about...if I win, you have to do what I tell you to do for the rest of the night. And if you win, you'll get to boss me around for the evening." Phoebe grinned fully when Cole agreed a little too enthusiastically. "You better not lie to me," she warned, giving him a pointed look. "Because I'll be able to tell."
And so they ordered their food and conversed while waiting for it to come. Cole was pleased at Phoebe's positive response to him—apparently, she had forgotten all about the Mrs. Turner incident. Or was she growing into it? He wondered.
Before he knew it, their food was being placed before them and Phoebe was watching him with an expectant eye. He first took a bite out of the fried calamari; it was pretty good, he had to admit. Then came the competing dish. He took a bite out of the chicken and had to control his face from wincing at the overwhelming sour taste.
He looked up at Phoebe, who was still watching him intently. Cole debated in his mind whether or not he should tell the truth. After all, he couldn't pass up on the opportunity to make Phoebe do whatever he wanted being the control freak he was, could he? Besides, he had the most killer poker face in the world. Still, that stupid nagging voice in his head—don't do it, it warned. Don't lie to her again, especially now that you have this chance.
Lie to her again what? Cole thought to himself. He had never lied to her before—not that he really had a chance to, since he's only known her for three days. So he decided to risk it. Cole let a smile grow on his face. "I win," he said.
A few seconds passed in which Phoebe said nothing and just continued to stare at him. Suddenly, her face darkened considerably, and she looked away, shaking her head. "You know, it was just a stupid little game. You really didn't have to lie, but I guess its just part of your nature, isn't it?"
See? Said the voice in Cole's head sadly. "What are you talking about?" said Cole out loud to Phoebe, a little harsher than he intended.
"Just forget it," Phoebe mumbled, as her gaze dropped back down to her plate. It was hard to remember that Cole was human here, and didn't know what he did to her—that is, if she goes by Leo's assumption that Cole wasn't the perpetrator. She both wanted him to be the one responsible and the innocent—the demon, so she could blame him for everything and give him an ass-kicking to vent all of her frustration, and the innocent, so she could have an excuse for these resurfacing, disturbing feelings.
Cole watched as Phoebe seemed increasingly distressed, and his features softened a great deal. "Look," he tried, reaching out and clasping her left hand in his right one, "I'm sorry, it was very stupid of me to do that. Forgive me?"
Cole looked into Phoebe's eyes and could've sworn there were tears in them. But she blinked twice and suddenly, her eyes were dry. "So I win, right?" she said quietly. Cole nodded. "The first thing I want you to do," she continued, as she laced her fingers through his, "is to hold my hand for the rest of dinner and eat with your left hand."
Cole pretended to make a face and reached for his fork with his clumsy left hand. His left hand couldn't handle eating utensils at all, but he was simply glad that the tension was over, and that he was holding Phoebe's hand, which felt so right in his.
He watched as Phoebe twirled her fork in her plate of pasta. He was falling hard, he knew—and they were barely an hour into their first date. Every fiber of his being felt so—content. It was so strange. On an impulse, his thumb stroked the side of her hand.
Phoebe looked up and seemed to falter slightly when he just continued to tenderly look at her. "What?" she asked, sounding slightly uncertain.
"Nothing. I just like to watch you," he answered, then immediately wished he could take it back. Would that sound a bit stalker-esque to her?
"Really now," Phoebe responded in a soft voice, as his thumb continued it's caressing. Her gaze dropped back to her plate, her eyelashes fluttering slightly as she looked down.
"It's not something to be embarrassed about," Cole said, haltingly.
"I'm not. It's just—" Phoebe sighed and slipped her hand away from Cole's. Cole nearly protested out loud when she did, but caught himself just in time. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm being such a spaz. You must hate me."
Cole took her hand and clasped it in both of his. "I would never," he said, forcing her to look into his eyes. He was starting to wonder about Phoebe, about how she acted that way. More likely than not, she had been hurt deeply by a past love. What kind of bastard would do that do her? That would be the last thing he would do, Cole decided with a surprising fierceness to protect her. He wouldn't hurt her for the world.
Oh, but you do, Cole, you do, answered the little voice in Cole's head in a quiet tone.
A/N:I would just like to take the time now to give a really big thanks to all my reviewers, since I haven't been officially thanking you all lately, past present and future. You guys encourage me and I appreciate every single one of them! Thanks!