Page 28 of Not Your Shoe Size

He shook his head. “Okay, Katie, but you know if you leave things unsaid, they’ll only get more painful, right?”

She could feel him wanting to make her feel the way he used to. Safe. Understood. Her neediness rose up to meet his. She felt like she was wading in a sticky swamp, the impulse to collapse back into her neat little role tugging at her, sucking at her feet, pulling her down. Then she gave in, the way she did in bed with Ty. She let herself feel fifteen, small and young and confused. The world was too big, and she’d been lied to about so many things. Everything. People weren’t nice, family wasn’t safe, home wasn’t a refuge, and love could twist until you felt like your partner was the biggest thing holding you back. Wasn’t there anything firm to hold onto? To trust in?

Kate’s eyes burned, and she pushed her coffee away, burying her face in her hands.

“Oh, Katie.” She heard Mr. Peterson step out of their booth. “Come here.”

He stood beside her, holding his arms open. Kate let out a dry sob. At that moment there was nothing she wanted more than a hug. She stood up and threw herself into his arms. Mr. Peterson’s big, muscly biceps closed around her, and Kate smelled his deodorant mixed with the salt of the Otway sea. Her heart squeezed tight. After all these years he still smelled like safety. Like friendship. He held her tight and it was salve to her teenage soul.

“Thank you,” she said into his chest. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He laughed softly in her ear. “Nothing’s wrong with you. I’m here for you.”

Kate smiled and looked up. She wanted to tell him she was glad, but the second they locked eyes, words failed her. Mr. Peterson wasn’t looking at her right. He wasn’t concerned or protective, not her father or a friend. He was looking at her like he wanted to kiss her. He looked like a guy you moved away from in a club because you didn’t want him to get ideas. Kate wanted to move away from Mr. Peterson, to run away, but her arms were stuffed toys and her stomach was full of static electricity. She’d been stupid. So stupid.

Mr. Peterson brushed the hair out of her eyes. “Katie, I’m staying in town tonight. Have dinner with me?”

In town, she thought dazedly, my parents call the city that too.Maybe all old people do.Kate’s guts churned as the voices in the café had faded to nothing. There was no one here to distract her from this. “To catch up?”

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that old, familiar way. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping for more.”

“I….”

He looked at her, and beneath his smile she saw hunger. He was Ty turned inside out. Ty’s love was sometimes coated in hunger, Mr. Peterson affection was painted over with lust. His body was hard against hers, his skin as hot as a furnace. Kate wanted to run. In her mind’s eye she saw herself running, but she couldn’t move. Her feet felt glued to the café floor.

“We don’t need to tell anyone,” Mr. Peterson said, leaning down so they were sharing a secret. “I just know we’re not done saying what we need to say to each other.”

“About what?”

“Love. Relationships.” His hands smoothed down her lower back. “The future.”

No! No fucking more!

Kate shifted her shoulders, extracting herself from Mr. Peterson’s hug. She took a small step backward and panic pinched his handsome features. “Is everything okay?”

Kate tried to smile and found she couldn’t. “I’m okay. I don’t think we should have dinner. It might be a bit weird.”

“Why?”

She looked down at her shoes, white sneakers. Good for walking. Okay for running. “I don’t know. Can’t we just be friends, like we were when I was at school?”

“Katie!” Mr. Peterson reached out and gave her side a playful pinch. Kate stood there, saying and feeling and knowing nothing. He rubbed his forehead, his eyes wide as a schoolboy’s. “Come on, we were always more than friends.”

Somewhere deep inside her, a lightbulb smashed.

The waitress appeared at her elbow, all smiles and bustling hips. “Are you two leaving, or can I get you something else?”

For a single, wild second Kate almost told her everything. Almost shouted it to the whole café—this man was supposed to be my friend and he lied! He lied! He fucking lied!Salvation came in an old, well-tested form. She smiled, feeling bubble-gum sweetness expand through and over her like a saccharine suit of armour. She beamed at the waitress. “Could I please get four beef bourguignon pies to take away?”

“Of course!”

Kate waved a hand in Mr. Peterson’s direction. “They’re for Rapunzel and Deidre and the other girls. Do you want one?”

“Katie…?”

She ignored him, his wistful tone, his stupid self-pity. “I think they’ll like them. I know I do.”

She followed the waitress to the counter, feeling him walking in her wake.

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