UNEDITED
Between his semi-committed addiction to smoking and his role as CEO of Elemental Coffee, Cassian Russell has spent the majority of his life running one of the most popular coffee shops on the Island with his best friend, Jake Swift. After a...
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Cassian
I notice Penelope chewing on her bottom lip, and I know it's because of me. When we got home from snowshoeing, Cecily called and asked if we wanted to come over for dinner. We were prepared to say no and spend the night in the hot tub, but we weren't the only ones who received an invitation. Patrick did, too. And Penelope didn't want to leave him alone with her parents. They might bombard him with questions, she said.
That's why we're walking up the front steps to her parents' house.
"How's the blister on your heel doing?" Pen asks as she opens the door. She gestures for me to enter first, which I do just to satisfy her. We have this thing going on. With small, polite gestures, we continue to one-up each other. I opened the car door for her, and now she's opening the door. It's entertaining. It causes the constant smile on my face.
As I'm kicking off my shoes, I test the tenderness of my heel. It hurts like a bugger. Friction from the heel of my snow boot while we were climbing hills caused the blister. By the end of our snowshoeing adventure, Pen had her arm threaded beneath my shoulders and was offering me as much support as she could. I tried to tell her she didn't need to help, but she insisted. We slipped and stumbled, doubling our walk across the parking lot. It was worth it, though.
I glance at Pen. She's still chewing on her bottom lip. "The heel's sore, but I'll be fine once I'm sitting down," I reply. "The painkillers helped with the throbbing." I flash her a smile, feeling the same nervousness visible on her face. Despite our conversation and the kiss, we didn't clarify where we stand. Is Penelope my girlfriend? I'm not sure. We both agreed to wanting to change this into something more than a friendship. We didn't discuss the boyfriend-girlfriend thing, though. It seems valid to just assume we're together after the conversation. I just... man, I don't know. I want to say she's my girlfriend—even if it feels like we're moving too fast. I'm treading on unfamiliar territory. Where do I draw the line? What is considered the right pace? I feel like I've been hit with a semi-trick lugging realization. I never realized how much I was suppressing my feelings for Pen. They're overwhelming.
While Penelope organizes our shoes, I grab the bottle of wine I brought. For Cecily and Lincoln. I run a hand through my hair. Damn it. Why am I suddenly so nervous? My palms are clammy and my sweater is sticking to my back. What the fuck is wrong with me? I've talked to Pen's parents millions of times.
"Come on," Pen says, looping her arm through mine. She tugs me against her body, offering me support. I don't need it. It's not like I've sprained my ankle, but I let her take a bit of my weight. The smile on her face broadens. "Let's go have dinner with my parents and Patrick."
I haven't been to their place since the barbecue. Pen's childhood home is warm and comforting. It has a lake house feel, with warm grey walls and neutral furniture. Splashes of red accent across the space. The floors are a sandy-grey oak all throughout the house and the décor is suited for a lake house: portraits of Okanagan Lake and Lake Louise, oars and flannel patterns, stone decorating the columns, and iron pendant lighting.
