I`m slowly back to work since i lost my Sven….thank you all for understanding and for the kind words. Page 9 of September Sun is already available on P4tr3on, back to the normal schedule!
Beginning in September 1984, the main character Donna is starting her second year of college, majoring in archaeology (aged 19) in New York City. Peter is therefore 22 years old, in his band Carnivore when the story begins! Peter and Donna meet in a cafe…
Link to my masterlist.
!!PICTURE IS NOT MINE!!
Enjoy, I hope!! Sorry if it's clunky or somethin'. I am trying! And feel free to drop suggestions or feedback! I'd love to hear a bit from readers, if I happen to have any readers. <3
Edit note: I have changed to having the main character be named “Donna Marie Eisele,” somewhat inspired by Donna White, but NOT meant to actually be her in any way!!! ***Besides some key details about Peter/Carnivore in the beginning, please note that this is purely fictional!!*** With that out of the way, please enjoy. 😅
1.5k words
I wander down the street, tote bag on my arm with my archaeology textbook inside. The mild September sun seems to smile down on the city streets as I make my way to my favorite coffee shop. It’s a place I tend to frequent, seeking it in lieu of the university library when the library gets boring.
I’m wearing my favorite pair of somewhat baggy jeans, belt, and a loose, cropped shirt, perfect for the warm weather in the 70s. After the heat of summer, the weather feels so good and my mood honestly could not be better. Back for my second year of college at NYU, life seems to be looking up.
Walking into the coffee shop, I glance around, clocking the people inside. The usual barista with the short bleached blond hair. A few men reading newspapers. A couple ladies deep in a gossip session. And then… in the corner, at a table by the window, a very cute (um, hot!!) young man.
It seems he’s about my age, but then again, I don’t have the utmost confidence in my ability to predict ages. But he is perhaps one of the cutest guys I’ve ever seen. I look away quickly before it seems like I’m being rude, but I had looked long enough to notice his seemingly pale yet intense eyes, fluffy brown shoulder-length hair, and fashion. Dark jeans, work boots, and a seemingly self-cut orange tank top that perfectly displayed the tattoos on both of his impressive biceps. (See pic at top of page! It’s one of my favorite pics of him).
I feel my heart speed up a bit, giddy with a combination of the cheerful weather of the day and the super cute guy I just saw. Trying to act normal and stop myself from looking at him AGAIN, I walk up to the ordering counter, smiling politely at the barista.
“Welcome in, what can I get for you?” She asks.
“Hmm…” I scan the menu. “I’ll have an iced chai.” I pause, glancing at the bakery case. “And a bear claw.”
“Good choice, those are my favorite,” she replies, chuckling a bit. She gets my name and writes it on the cup, setting it aside for her coworker to make my latte.
I root through my tote bag that I’ve hand-painted with little watermelon slices, grabbing my wallet and pulling out some cash.
Sliding my pastry to me inside a small bag, the barista sums up the cost. “That’ll be six fifty for you today.”
I count out a five dollar bill and a couple ones, about to set them on the counter.
“Excuse me?” A deep voice, with what I’ve learned to be a Brooklyn accent, interrupts the exchange between me and the barista.
I turn, curious, to see— the cute guy that was just sitting across the cafe from me. And he’s even cuter up close. And tall. Oh fuck. I know this is gonna be going in my journal entry tonight. Heart racing, I feel frozen, trying to tell myself to calm down. “Hm?” I ask, keeping my cool.
“Would it be alright if I, uh, paid for your order?” He smiles sheepishly, meeting my eyes with his soft yet intense bluish eyes, fidgeting with some cash in his hand.
“Uh— yeah—“ I stumble over my words, knowing my face must be decently pink right now. I glance at the barista, feeling a bit overwhelmed and unable to form a full sentence. Guys never just talked to me. Let alone super hot, tall guys.
He clears his throat, placing a ten dollar bill on the counter. “Keep the change.”
The barista thanks him and I stuff my wallet and unused cash back in my tote, grabbing the bear claw.
“Uh, thank you.” I smile shyly up at him.
The guy runs his fingers through his hair, brushing aside some of it that had fallen into his face. “Hey, no problem. And. Um. If you want, there’s an empty spot at the table I was at?”
“Why not,” I reply, knowing this is my chance, and he seems nice enough. Not a creep.
This earns back a charming, crooked smile from him. Which is so worth it. I didn’t think it was possible, but he looks even cuter when he smiles.
I follow him over to his table at the window, sliding into the seat across from him and setting down my bear claw pastry.
“So, what’s your name?” I ask.
“Peter,” he replies. “Peter Ratajczyk, at your service,” he adds, chuckling
I smile a bit. “Nice to meet ya, Peter.”
“What about you?”
“Huh? Oh! Yeah. I’m Donna. Eisele.”
He grins softly. “Donna. I like that name.” His deliciously deep voice nearly sends me into a coma as he compliments me.
“Honestly? I prefer my middle name. Marie. I don’t dislike ’Donna’ or anything, but… I just like my middle name better. Always have.” I find myself rambling, shutting down my own oversharing before it gets too far.
He tilts his head thoughtfully. “I do like Marie. Donna Marie. Sounds good together.”
I feel my face getting warm. “Aw, thanks.” Looking at his gorgeous, decently long and fluffy brown hair, I feel the need to compliment it. “By the way, I love your hair—“ I find myself saying all the sudden.
He seems to blush a bit, running his fingers through it. “Thank you. I like yours too. The curls— they’re pretty. They suit ya.”
My fingers unconsciously move to okay with a few of my pale brown curls, the texture mesmerizing beneath my fingers. My thoughts are suddenly clouded with images of Peter’s fingers, gentle in my hair—
Our conversation and my thoughts are interrupted by my name being called to get my drink, and before I can stand up, Peter goes to get it, once again reminding me of his height.
I find my gaze flicking up and down his form, admiring him. He’s got the sorta muscles I’ve always wanted. I make a mental note to go to the gym later.
I thank him as he sets the chai latte on the table in front of me, not missing how small the cup seems in his large hand.
We sit and chat about menial things for a bit as I sip my latte and nibble at my pastry. As I finish the pastry, I look up at him, really taking in his face.
He sits quietly for a moment, meeting my gaze with steady intensity, trying to figure me out as I do the same with him.
“So,” he begins. “Where are you from? I don’t recognize the accent.”
“Down south, in South Carolina, actually,” I reply. "I’m here for college!”
His eyes widen. “Oh, college? What year? And what’s your major?”
“Sophomore. And archaeology! It’s so cool.”
He gazes at me in curiosity. “Archaeology, huh? Uncovering secrets of the past. Is that fun?”
I nod. “Yep. It really is. I've always loved historic stuff. Almost poetic, in a way. What about you? Are you in college?”
He shakes his head. “Not anymore. I majored in music composition though. And I actually have a band now— but I work for the city park service as my main job.”
“Oh, that’s so cool! What sort of music? What’s the band?” I lean forward, intrigued. A handsome man who does music.
He seems shy for a moment. “Oh, um, just this little band called Carnivore. It’s uh.. well, metal music. Like, heavy metal, I mean. Thrash metal, technically, I guess...”
“That sounds epic! I should check you guys out sometime.”
He perks up a bit. “Really? That’d be awesome. I can promise a front row seat if you ever wanna come. We usually play at little bars or whatever.”
I grin, feeling butterflies in my chest. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer.” I sip at my chai, trying to calm my racing heart.
He glances at my tote bag, with its textbook and pencils and notebook. “Hey, um, I don’t wanna keep you too long. I’ll leave you alone now, you don’t gotta worry—“
I feel my heart speed up. I can’t let him slip away. But gosh, my heart is racing and my anxiety is making me suddenly nauseous. “Oh, uh, okay— thank you for the pastry and drink…”
“Of course,” he nods, meeting my eyes. He stands up, seeming to hover for a moment. We stay there a second, just looking at each other.
I need to get his number. I finally break the silence. “Could I—“
But at the same time, he speaks. “Maybe we—“
I stop, letting him speak.
“Maybe I could get your number?” he asks politely, cautiously. “I liked talking to you…”
I nod vigorously in agreement. “Me too. Me too. Of course.” I pull out some paper, ripping off a piece and writing my name and number. He takes it, grinning.
“Thank you. I’ll call you soon, okay, Donna?” His deep voice hits me in the feels again.
“I can’t wait!” I grin, watching as he leaves the cafe. I turn back to the table, pulling out my textbook. Wow. Peter. Peter Ratajczyk. I feel excited and hopeful about a boy in a way I haven’t for a long while now.
