Tell Them This When I Die

The Newly Reformed Sarah Howard

Sarah takes a deep breath as she walks back to Peter. Lean in. Ask him to repeat it. Hand on the knee, say she can't hear him. It's a universal sign, apparently.

Peter looks up at her and hands her another Shirley temple. She laughs as she takes it.

"Might as well stick with what you know," he says, watching her sit.

Sarah catches Eris out of the corner of her eye, walking over to the man with the music. The song gets a little louder.

Sarah turns back to Peter. "You talk to Eris just now?" he asks.

Sarah leans forward. "What was that?" she asks. She actually can't hear him.

"I asked if you spoke to Eris," Peter repeats.

Sarah puts her trembling hand on his knee. "I can't hear you very well. Is there somewhere else we can go?"

Peter lifts his chin, hiding his smile. "Oh, you did."

Sarah blinks. That's not what he's supposed to say.

He stands. Offers Sarah his hand, and she takes it. It's rough and calloused, so much darker than Sarah's. He passes her hand to his left one, then places a hand on the small of her back as they walk. Sarah resists the urge to shudder. He makes it look so easy.

Sarah steals a glance back at Eris. She gives Sarah a lazy thumbs up.

Sarah bites down her smile. Peter walks her up the stairs at the back of the club. It looks motel-like.

Peter opens a door for her. Not motel-like at all. How much does this cost?

"Much quieter," he says.

"Perfect," Sarah says. Her hands shake. She waits for him to sit on the couch, and then she sits nice and close, as per her instructions.

Peter shakes away his amused smile. "Are your friends going to wonder about you?" he asks.

"Probably not," she says. She leans into him, sighing. "They're not exactly nice people."

"Why are they friends of yours, then?"

Sarah shrugs. "I don't know." She reaches out to touch the button on his shirt.

"You don't have to do that," he says.

Sarah glances up at him, and her fingers freeze. He's so close, her heart is palpitating.

"Do what?"

Peter glances at her hands. "That," he says.

Sarah wonders if men ever say that to Eris. Probably not.

"You don't want to—" she starts.

"That's not what I said. I said you don't have to."

Eris said he'll do the rest. She wasn't supposed to have to worry about that part. But as it turns out, now she feels she might have to. He seems like he doesn't want to push her.

Sarah can feel the skin of his arm near the back of her neck. The warmth of his body.

"I know," she says. She plays with the buttons again. Has the nerve to undo one of them. Peter is still. What would Eris do?

Sarah touches the skin, runs her finger down. Slides it under his waistband just a little. She can't possibly go wrong with that.

Peter lifts his eyebrows slightly, stays still as she undoes his belt. She has the fingers of a pianist, light, gentle, rhythmic. She puts on a little pressure. She's done this part for Adam a few times, but what if Peter is different?