I do not own Pepe or Penelope

Chapter Seventeen

In Love

There she went. Usually she seemed to walk slowly by while everything else seemed to go fast. Now everything else faded away and she was the only thing he could see. If she blinked her eyes seemed slow, showing off her eyelashes. Her graceful and delicate figure was like out of a dream. The way her dresses would swish around her legs was beguiling. Her voice was sweet with a touch of elegance as if it danced in a waltz through his heart.

She didn't have many quirks from what he saw, but she would rest her head on her knuckles when she had a look that she dreaming. He would notice it when she was in a café with a book, she would randomly stop and do that with a glistening in her eyes of ebony that shined, reminding him of silver.

If he didn't see her for one whole day she was in his mind. Stalking him, chasing him, haunting him was her image. He could feel his heart pulse run faster when he thought of her. His palms would become moist causing him to swipe them against his jeans. He would be awake at night wondering what she was doing. Although it seemed obvious that she must have been sleeping at 1:00 in the morning.

He kept his small house more cleanly than he had before. He organized his laundry, polished the silverware and made the bed more often. He took out the ironing board out and pressed clothes that were not even necessary to press. He smiled more to himself as he was keeping a secret. He actually polished his dress shoes once a week hoping for a special occasion. Though that didn't happen, he was still hopeful. He even avoided the bars and drinking alcohol. He used a mint mouthwash twice a day.

His family may or may not have noticed the changes, but if they did notice than they didn't mention it so he wouldn't feel embarrassed from their awes. He was found playing the piano at his old home when he visited them. All of them romantic themes that would sweep and then stumbled over the ivory since the last time he sat at the piano bench was when he was six. He found a family heirloom of the violin in their spare room and note sheets. He would spend half of the night practicing. He would write of her in his journal, drawing roses the best he could around her name. He at times wrote that her last name was his instead of the one he had forgotten on that one occasion. Eight letters that added up to the most enchanting name he had ever heart in his whole life; Penelope.

He would have done anything to keep her. If for some reasons he could not be intimate with her, he could live with that. All he wanted was her in his life. Just to know that she was his. All these new experiences that he was doing were proof that he was in love.

During his transformation she remained the same. Timid and shy of everything around her she lived with the pain of being sheltered, but only half loved. Being sheltered had its affect on her. Of course her father loved her very much, but nobody else did. How she wished she had a normal family, but that seemed far from reality. She desired someone to respect her wishes. She desired for love from someone kind. The love that would make her feel protected was a rare find for her. She could never find it. She didn't feel alive in activities. The boredom increasing upon her heart made her tiresome. The men she courted were fakes! They were like cardboard cutouts. All the same with their pressed suits, neatly combed hair and money nearly breaking their fine suede wallets were predictable. She couldn't stop hearing their voices echoing in her brain when she tried to sleep at night after a long day.

"Oh, Penelope you are so cooking!"

"Penelope, you are nice looking, but I do love money,"

"Boy, why will you not act sexier Penelope. You are such a wall flower."

"I think the reason you do not want to kiss is because you are a bad kisser."

"Can I be honest? You are not pretty! Sorry if that hurts, but it is true. You should put on make-up and a more alluring outfit and then I will like you."

"You are not fun, you goody two-shoes."

"What do you say we go to my place for some fun Penelope?"

"Why do you not like drinking?"

"Are you going to stay pure your whole life?"

"I want you to wear a seductive dress next time!"

"At this rate there will not be a next time!"

"Well, you are not worth my time then!"

All those phrases said by one who was bold enough to be honest or hurtful.

Of course those in her family who hated her accused her for ruining the courting. Everything was confusing. She thought that the heart mattered most when in love, but she was being told that wasn't important. Love wouldn't pay the mortgage or give her jewelry. Money would do that and that was more important. She longed to be a child again, where everything was safe when her father was around. Not now, she was a grown-up, she had to move on.

Who was this freak that seemed to be wherever she was? This tall, reeking, accented stranger. She could not find hate, but she found nervousness. Her heart would skip a beat, part of her flustered and sympathetic. She didn't have the heart to be cruel to someone who didn't abuse her. Maybe her heart skipped because she secretly liked French accents, but couldn't see herself with him. (Or was it deep, deep, deep down her heart skipped a beat for other reasons that she didn't understand or failed to discover.)

Whatever reason, it did make life more interesting, despite a little anxious. Her routine was the same. She woke up, had a hot breakfast made by the apartments' owners. Stayed walked through the streets for the morning, lunch at home, napped in the afternoon, dinner, bathed and went to bed. It was boring. Although when she would soak off in her bathtub she took a book which she managed to keep out of the water. There had been times she would have pulled out dresses and just twirled around in them to pass the time.

On more than one occasion she had asked if she could have a job of some sort which she was screamed at for even considering. She was the daughter of an heiress. She didn't have to work!

This poor cat wanted to be independent. To be independent of her family's money which paid for her bills and clothes was only a dream. She longed for freedom from the greedy eyes that lusted for her body or richness. That was only a dream to. She didn't even know what if felt like to be in love.

He did. Whenever they collided on the streets he was a gentleman. Even when she didn't look her best he had something kind to say to her.

"Zhe day just got more beautiful because of you."

"Eef only more women were like you."

"I'm sure eef roses could talk zhey would say how envious zhey are of your grace."

It was refreshing to have a man say that to her when she was in causal clothes that was deemed as hideous to her type of society or when she hadn't recently showered.

For a long time this went on. One in love and the other in depression sounded like a soap opera. This was real. Now he knew what he felt with all his heart; he was in love.

Author's Note: So much bad things have happened since the last update. Someone in my family is slowly dying from pain. I'm glad I could find some time to update now. I feel terrible that I haven't. I do appreciate your reviews and that you've stuck around with me. When in is Cartoon Network going to show the new Looney Tunes. I'm so excited, but there's been no news. Well, they better have some Pepelope shipping in there!