His hair is a deep brown, it reminds me of fresh brewed coffee in the morning, the perfect hue against his olive skin. The color of deep sienna fills his eyes, with a mischievous glint that reflects the corners of his mouth, always fighting a smile. They are every shade of brown you could imagine, a raw umber and caramel mix, dotted with bits of dark chocolate. They glow with humor and playfulness that gives you shivers and wraps you in a warm embrace at the same time. He carries himself with ease, approachable, too cool to show the world even a lick of tension, but he is not shy of petty. His name is Peter Kavinsky. And as he walks towards me, the mid-summer sun beaming down on him, accentuating a bronze glimmer to his hair, turning his dough eyes into golden rays, I can hardly believe how perfect he looks. And how he is all mine.
"Hey, Covey!" His arms open wide for my small frame, but I can tell he wasn't expecting me to launch myself into them with such heavy force when his body jolts back. Nonetheless he catches me, my arms and legs wrapped around him. Our lips meet and for the first time all Summer my soul is on fire. Peter's kisses are my favorite kisses. Tender, meaningful, open-mouthed and willing. I am so lucky.
"I missed you," my voice comes out filled with relief and a little breathless from the hello kiss. After surviving the first year of a long distance relationship, I feel like it's in my right to kiss him this way.
"I missed you, too, Lara Jean," Peter looks at me with adoration, his eyes softening, and I can tell his words are true. He puts me down and his hand immediately finds mine, our fingers interlock like muscle memory.
My tunnel vision on Peter made me forget we were at the public pool and people were staring. We walked back to where I dropped my bag and Peter picked it up for me, slinging it over his shoulder with ease.
"How was camp? I wanna hear everything," I smiled a wide smile as I looked at Peter. He spent the first half of Summer away at a lacrosse camp with the rest of the Virginia Hoo's. We seldom spoke on the phone because there was no cell service or wifi. So we wrote to each other the old fashioned way. Handwritten letters.
Peter's face lights up as I ask about camp. I know he's been waiting to tell me about it.
"Oh, Lara Jean, it was awesome. Nothing but lacrosse twenty-four seven. The coaches were tough, but they really know they're shit — I mean stuff," he cracks an apologetic grin at the curse word. But I don't scold him. He looks so happy and in his element as he fills me in on everything he didn't put on paper.
When Peter told me that he would be spending the first six weeks of Summer away I was devastated. We had a countdown to the day we would be with each other again after a long school year of only seeing each other for select holidays and short weekends. That countdown became extended. At first it hurt, and I felt like he chose a sport over me, his girlfriend, but my older sister Margot reassured it wasn't the case. Peter and I are growing up. He attends UVA on a scholarship and if he wants to keep that scholarship, well, it wouldn't be fair for me to begrudge him from bettering his skills. He loves lacrosse. But I know from the words in his letters that he loves me more.
"You should have seen the look on Coach's face that morning! It was hilarious," Peter lets out a hearty laugh at the memory of the aftermath of his coach finding one of his teammates passed out drunk on the field from the night before. The poor boy didn't remember a thing. And his clothes were missing.
I wonder if Peter has ever been that drunk before.
"Covey? Where's your head?" His brows knit together as he catches me in one of my daydreams.
"I'm here," I say lightly and look at him with a smile. I'm just happy to have him back.
"Did you get my last letter?" Peter asks as we sit down on two lounge chairs away from the crowds. My heart beats harder as he mentions it. The letter he's referring to is one of the most romantic pieces of writing I had ever received. And he wrote it just for me.
Peter has in the past not been the best with putting his feelings onto paper. It takes him time to figure out how to express himself, and that is okay. His letters usually state how much he misses me and what's new that he forgot to tell me on the phone. I got used to the idea of never receiving the kind of love letter that makes your skin itch with desire, your heart pound, and your stomach flutter with butterflies.
Until I received this one just a day before he came back to me.
He knows me well enough to know that I must be flustered thinking about all the things he wrote in that letter. his mouth curves into a smirk as he puts his arm around me and presses his lips to my ear as he whispers, "I'm gonna take the silence and your red face as a yes."
Even in this heat Peter causes chills up my spine. I shiver and nod my head, still a little speechless.
"I just wanted the last one to go out with a bang, you know?" Oh yes, Peter. I know. "Plus, I think I've gotten pretty good at this whole love letter thing since we couldn't really get a text through," he says with a self satisfied grin. "So what did you think?"
I, Lara Jean Song Covey, think Peter Kavinsky has been holding out on me. Of all the letters he's sent, one a week since we started college, none measure up to this one.
"Peter, I love your letter," I say with a shy smile, feeling my face burn and my skin itch to feel his touch all over again.
Maybe it was the fact that I missed him all year and then even more all Summer. Or maybe the fact that Peter and I haven't done anything passed hand over the bra action during a heated makeout is what brings my core to flutter when I think about him. It's not that I'm not ready to have sex with Peter, the timing just never feels right. I always felt that he felt the same way about timing. Until I read his letter.
"It was so beautiful and loving, yet raw and.." Sexy. "Passionate and," Sexy. "Vulnerable." And sexy.
Peter's the one blushing now. I feel glad that he is.
"Well I really missed you, Covey. And I wanted to give you something to make up for not being around the past six weeks. Something just for you," his voice is low, honest, as he smiles sheepishly.
"I've never received anything like it," I say with certainty, my smile only growing as my stomach flutters. "I had to excuse myself to my room to read it," I admit and I can tell it was the wrong choice of words when his eyebrows shoot up and he looks at me with a devilish smirk.
"Not because of that! I didn't — I didn't do anything but read it, Kavinsky. Get your mind out of the gutter," I rule out the possibility I know he was hoping for and push him away from me playfully.
His face falls, but only for a second. And then he grins at me, amused. I may not have done anything in the privacy of my bedroom, but that doesn't mean I didn't think about it. And he knows that.
Was he trying to give me some sort of sexual frustration?
"Well, that's a little disappointing," he teases. And I know he's teasing because it's not the first time we've tread in these waters. Peter does not and has never pressured me because Peter is perfect.
I laugh, standing up suddenly to change the topic. I can't be getting flustered like this in public. "Let's swim," I say and without wasting another second, I take off my sun dress and expose my turquoise floral bikini.
Peter watches me and then joins me as he takes off his shirt. "In we go!" He bear hugs me and I squeal as he walks us closer to the edge of the pool. "No, Peter!" I squirm to get out of his grasp, though we both know it's not what I truly want. It's fun to just play.
"Sorry, didn't you say let's swim!" He laughs and before I can object I feel the ground disappear from underneath my feet.
We fall into the water together and he lets go of me for a brief moment before we resurface. "Peter!" I laugh and splash him. The water feels nice in this heat. Refreshing.
He flinches and instead of splashing me back, wraps his arms around me and dunks me. We play like this back and forth for a moment longer before getting tired. My stomach hurts from laughing so hard and it feels like the smile plastered on my face is permanent.
"Oh, Covey," Peter says in a breathless laugh as he brings his arms around me, this time different than from how we were playing. it's more protective. I loosely wrap my legs around his waist and lock my arms around his neck. I play with his hair a little, feeling so lucky to have Peter holding me in his embrace. Feeling so lucky to be his.
This moment reminds me of the time when we kissed in the hot tub. I smile at the memory. It feels so long ago, but it also feels like just yesterday. We were just sixteen and seventeen then and we're nineteen now.
"Will you come over for dinner tonight? Dad is making Korean and he could use all the encouragement he can get," I tell him and I wonder what's on his mind as it looks like I pulled him out of a deep thought.
"Korean sounds great," Peter smiles at me. When we were in high school, Peter started to spend more dinners with us than with his family. My dad, Trina, and especially Kitty really miss him. Though, he stopped by to see them many times when I was in Chapel Hill. Anyways, Peter is used to my dad's cooking. And no matter what it is, Peter always helps himself to seconds. That's probably why my dad loves him.
"I've also been baking a lot since Summer started and I have many cookies for you to taste test. I froze the dough so Kitty wouldn't get her hands on them," I laugh softly.
Peter's eyes light up as I mention cookies. He's always loved my baked goods, "I think my favorite part of having you home is getting to eat your cookies."
This earns a laugh and I teasingly narrow my eyes at him, "You prefer my cookies more than kisses?"
"Well…" he begins and I gasp before playfully swatting him.
"Rude!"
"I'm kidding, Covey! I love your kisses way more, come on," he grins.
"'Mm hm! You better," I giggle and he kisses my lips softly, pulling me closer. I love how strong his hands are as he grips my waste. And I love feeling his body pressed to mine. He's always warm.
"Last one to the stairs owes the other whatever they want!" I exclaim as I abruptly break the kiss and pull away from my boyfriend. I could hear his gasp as I swam away from him, but knew he was quick to follow. We swam a maze around kids and other swimmers.
The stairs were in reaching distance when I felt two strong arms wrap around me and lift me up, effortlessly tossing me back into the water. Peter laughed maniacally and made his way up the stairs and out of the pool.
"Cheater!" I gasped as soon as I resurfaced, wiping hair out of my face.
Peter laughed from the edge of the pool, "You didn't set any rules, Covey!" He shrugs innocently.
I huff and cross my arms childishly, remaining in the water as I glare up at him.
"Come on, let me help you out," he flashes a grin and crouches down, holding his hand out to me.
"No thank you," I purse my lips and ignore his hand before swimming to the stairs and climbing out of the water.
Peter watched me, his shoulders low, not as broad as a second ago, "Oh come on, you blindsided me. I had to retaliate."
"Fine," It was hard to fight the smile on my face as I walked past him, swinging my hips into him just enough to make him lose his balance. A giddy laugh escaped me as he fell back into the pool.
Peter came up quickly, a wide grin on his face, "You make me crazy, Covey." He says with a laugh and doesn't even bother to use the stairs or the ladder as he climbs out of the pool.
I let out a yelp as he tries to grab me and I run away, Peter in tow.
A loud whistle blow causes us both to halt as we look in the direction of the lifeguard watching hs disapprovingly. He points to the sign stating 50 pool rules in big, bold, red letters.
'NO RUNNING'
"Sorry!" I laugh embarrassed, now that we both had the entire pool's attention.
Peter grins and shrugs it off, not a care in the world as he scoops me up over his shoulder and carries me back to our chairs.
"Troublemaker," Peter smirks as he sets me down and lays on his towel.
"Speak for yourself," I smirk back at him and lay down on my chair next to his. I close my eyes and soak up the warmth from the sun.
For the rest of our time at the pool we relax and enjoy just being in each other's presence. We make eyes frequently, and sometimes I can feel Peter's eyes on me for longer moments when I'm not looking back at him. I know it's because he missed me just as much as I missed him and he doesn't want to forget moments like these. Because that's how I feel when I look at him too.
"Do you want to get ice cream before we head to your house?" Peter asks me as we get in his Audi. I'm glad my bathing suit dried before we left or I'd feel bad for ruining his seat.
"Always," I nod with a suresmile.
"Text Kitty and ask her what flavor she wants us to bring back," Peter says as if it was a given we would bring something back for my baby sister. And that's why I love him.
We're in the front seat of his car. His lips taste like chocolate and his skin smells like cologne mixed with sunscreen and chlorine. But he stills smells like Peter. My fingers run through his damp hair as open mouth kisses are shared over and over and over again. I can't get enough of him. Each time his hands touch my skin it burns, but in the best way. I longed for his touch for six weeks. It was the most time we ever spent apart and I wouldn't choose to do it again.
Peter will start a kiss so sweet and then by the time I'm ready for a breath of air, he'll turn it into a kiss of passion that I can't bring myself to turn away from. He's usually very good about not letting me get too lightheaded. It's like he knows because he will start to nip at my lower lip and then kiss the corners of my mouth and leave a nice little trail of kisses along my jaw, to my neck, and stop at my collarbone. And everytime he does it, it feels like the first.
He wrote about moments like this in his love letter that made my knees go weak. Making out in the front seat of his car because it's the only place we can ever be completely alone. I believe his exact words were along the lines of, I close my eyes and pretend you're here with me, your hands in my hair while I kiss you from your lips to your neck, savoring the taste of your skin and the scent of your coconut shampoo. God, Lara Jean, I miss how your hair smells like coconut.
I washed my hair twice this morning with that coconut shampoo.
"Okay, okay," I speak breathlessly and gently push Peter's shoulders back. He's looking at me with hungry eyes and if I didn't have Kitty's slowly melting ice cream in a to go bag by my feet I would climb on his lap and kiss him forever. "Go inside and shower before Kitty's ice cream melts," I giggle softly, feeling flustered from the kissing.
We stopped at his house before going to mine so he could wash off the feeling of public pool.Peter grins charmingly at me, "Well don't be a stranger, Covey. You can wait inside," he laughs. I don't think he realizes the effect his kisses have on me. Especially with the words from his letter ringing through my brain.
"Right," I smile as I pick up Kitty's ice cream and follow Peter inside. He kisses my cheek before rushing to go shower and I stick the ice cream in the freezer. Hopefully I can salvage it.
"I still can't get over Snape just letting Lily and James be happy together," Peter's voice breaks the silence as we watch the final installment to the Harry Potter films. Kitty shushes him from her spot on the carpet.
"What do you mean?" I ask, lifting my head off his shoulder.
His arms moves from around me as he traces his fingers through his hair, "Why didn't he fight for her? It just seems like he didn't really try."
"I think he wanted her to be happy more than he wanted to be happy. It's pretty selfless of him," I say softly. "he really loved her, you know."
"It's the saddest part of the entire movie, and you two are talking?!" Kitty shushes us once more and Peter laughs.
"Sorry Kitty," we say in unison.
And while Snape and Lily's love story brings tears to my eyes every time… I'm glad Peter fought for me.