Wrong Time, Write Place (standard:romance, 2360 words)
Author: J. Thalia	Added: Jun 21 2002	Views/Reads: 3362/2269	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
The story of how Pete and Feliz met.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

anyone there that I know and to get a break from writing for a second. 
There she is! I swear, there was the same woman from the night before! 
Now I know, it's fate, lemme go talk to her. I pick up my stuff and 
walk over to the half a bench she's taking up. She's just sitting there 
with her long golden hair blowing in the wind. She's eating a cheese 
sandwich and looking in the opposite direction as me. She doesn't 
notice me coming until get right next to her, she looks up with 
surprise.” 

“Oh it's you,” she says. “It's really you!” 

“Yeah I don't think we properly met last night.” I say. 

“Do you want to go on a date?” she says bluntly. 

“Are you kidding? I was just about to ask you the same thing!” 

“Great, meet me here at 8 tonight.” 

“Will do! Gotta go though.” I leave for home. Later that day, I have the
publication forms done, the sample done, so I go to the publishers. Of 
course they hate it, and my trek was a waste of time. Anyway, I go back 
home, to cope with rejection. I glance at a clock; it's 20 to 8! I 
quick change and get to the park with 2 minutes to spare! She's not 
here! What am I going to do? Is she standing me up? Did she come and 
go? Is my clock set right? I think about all the possible questions, 
but then take back everything I've said, I see her coming. We meet, and 
then we're off. 

“I was thinking we could go to this great seafood restaurant. How about
that?” 

“I love seafood! Let's go!” we start walking towards the restaurant. 

“So,” I ask. “What's your favorite movie?” 

“Well,” she thinks a little. “As Good As It Gets. How about you?” 

“As Good As It Gets is my favorite too! I've never seen a Jack
Nicholson—much less a comedy I didn't like...” 

She looks up at me. She abruptly stops walking. 

“What? Is something wrong?” 

“Wrong? No!” she gazes into my eyes. “You have very pretty eyes.” 

On that note, we get inside the restaurant and are seated, almost
immediately. 

“Thank you,” I finally respond. “You have really nice hair, hell you're
a very beautiful woman, I'm very lucky to be with you right now,” I 
say. We have an extremely wonderful conversation for the rest of the 
night. I don't think we left until about 12. We leave, and walk to her 
apartment building not too far away. Suddenly, there's a strong wind. 

“Let's meet again next week at 8. Let's meet at...” she says, the wind
to loud for me to hear what she says, before I know it, she's given me 
a goodnight kiss and is inside. I tried to follow her inside to ask 
where she wanted to meet, but the doors were locked. With a sigh of 
exasperation, an emotionally sunken person walks home. What am I going 
to do? I thought to myself. I know! I'll call her! Wait, I don't even 
know her name! Oh this is bad. I don't want to be in this position! I 
have got to think of something, I think I love this woman! By that 
time, I'd gotten to my apartment, stripped off my clothing and was 
lying in bed, thinking about what I was going to do next week. I fell 
asleep. 

“Well Pete I must say, you've got my attention,” Frank says. “Why didn't
you bang on her door, trying to get her attention and open the door so 
you could talk to her?” 

“Well, I didn't, I don't know why not, but I didn't.” 

“Go on, go on!” Lisa is getting impatient with Frank. “What did you do
next?” 

Well, the week went by surprisingly fast. I worked at Mama Maria's
mostly, and I tried some writing. So Friday night came. She said—or so 
I interpreted—Saturday, so I went to work with a happy conscience. I 
was walking to greet a table, when I looked out the window and saw her 
walking down the street. I ran to the door, but the mat idée stepped in 
front of the door. 

“Where do you think you're going?” he asked with his nose high in the
air, treating me like some juvenile. 

“I have to go outside for a minute” 

“No, you don't, you have table to wait on!” 

“You don't understand, there's the best woman that's ever come in
contact with me and I have to talk with her!” I try to push past him. 

“No! Go back to your tables, or I'll make you the bus boy!” 

So, I go back to my tables broken hearted, cheated out of probably a
once in a lifetime opportunity encounter with the woman of my dreams 
the night continued, and when my shift was over (fortunately, exactly 
at 7:45) I raced out the place you know, maybe I can catch her at her 
apartment building. For once, there's a receptionist—who seemed like 
her life was the epitome of Providence's community. I strode up to the 
front desk most casually—well, I more scuttled than anything, panting, 
at the same time, trying to keep my cool. 

“Excuse me,” I said, with the ‘utmost respect'. “Excuse me!” the
woman—apparently asleep—woke up. “I'm looking for someone.” 

“Ok, what is their name?” the woman says groggily. She looks at my face,
and then looks me over, she trails down to my feet, then back up at my 
face. “What is her name?” 

“Well, haha it's kinda funny really...” I trail off, the illusion of
anguish waning on my insides when I come to the realization, I don't 
know her name. “Ok, well, I don't know—” 

“Know her name—believe me, you're not the first guy that looks like you,
some extremely sexy, deep-looking guy walks in, not knowing her name,” 

“She thought you were sexy and deep-looking?” Frank says. “I find that a
little hard to believe.” 

“No lie,” I retort. “I admit, I was caught a little off guard by that
comment, but who wouldn't think that ‘bout me?” 

There is a small snicker from Feliz. “Continue honey,” 

“So, as I was saying,” Pete starts again. “Before I was so rudely
interrupted” 

“Well, you know, it's either Feliz or Anna. I personally know it's not
Anna, because she's always with this guy who's not to bad on the 
eyes...if you know what I mean.” The receptionist says. 

“Oh, is that so? Well, can you tell me Feliz' room number? That'd be
great, we've got a date you know.” 

“Oh really? That's nice for you, you know I always admired Feliz, she
got all the guys, and she was always out having fun, you know doing 
cool things like that—and another thing, I heard from a friend who 
heard from her moms friend who heard from—” 

“Uh, I really need that room number” I was getting a little
impatient—who wouldn't, with that woman?! 

“Oh right, well I'm not actually legally allowed to give you that info.”


“Wait a minute,” I was really really pissed off now. “You just wasted my
time with your delinquent chit-chat, and you still won't tell me? I'm 
going to kill you!” 

“Ok! Ok! She's in room 363, ok? Fine! Just don't tell my boss! 

“Good, c-ya later—hon.” I go to the elevators and wait for one. Two come
down; I go in the one that opens first—it's empty. I push the button 
for level three; just as the doors close, I notice Feliz walking 
towards the lobby; she must've been on the other elevator. I yell her 
name, but the doors close oh so quickly. 

“No no no no NO!” I punch the door. Finally, ever so painstakingly long,
the elevator opens at the third level. Worried about missing her again, 
I run to the nearest flight of stairs, I run down as fast as my 
21-year-old legs can carry me. Exhausted, my heart pounding in my 
throat, I arrive back at the lobby in under about four seconds. I see 
something that I'll never forget. At the same time almost made me start 
crying (with joy) there she was—Feliz—waiting for my return. 

“I didn't think you would wait for me...” I said with a burst of joy. 

Before I could say any more, she grabs my face with both hands, and
gives me a huge kiss on the lips. We kiss for about 30 seconds, and she 
stops. 

“I love you,” she says. “I've never met anyone as fantastic as you are,
Pete.” 

“I feel exactly the same, Feliz.” 

“After that, we went to a very cool restaurant and a movie. The next
thing I know, I can't get her out of my mind, and every time I think of 
her, I get butterflies in my stomach. About 3 weeks after our loving 
confrontation in her apartment lobby, I had proposed and she accepted.” 


“What a wonderful story,” Lisa utters. 

“It's all true” Feliz reassures. 

“I am so sorry,” the mystery man stands up. “I never introduced myself,
my name is Daniel Victor.” He shakes Pete's unsuspecting hand. “You 
must be Pete Goetzke. I've read some of your work before, it's good.” 

“Well, thank you, Mr. Victor, I uh—” 

“I am a primary editor for the J. B. Lippincott Company, and I was
wondering if you would be able and willing to publish the story you 
just told.” 

“Excuse me?!” 

“I have a spot open, you said you were a writer, right? I want to
publish your story. Or are you too busy?” 

“No no! I would love to write this up!” 


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