Shelby's POV

I woke up the next morning and went to check on Edmund. When I opened the door, no one was there. I Sighed and closed the door to crack before something got in the way. i opened it wide and there was a drunk Peter in the way of my door.

"Oh my God, Peter!" I grabbed his arm and led him to the chair. I ran into my bathroom and filled up the bowl with water. I bent over to take off his shirt, which was was covered in gross...stuff.

"Ssstop!" He yelled. "I command yooou. You are not, Ssshhhelby. Only Sshhelby can take off my ssshhhirt!" He yelled again.

"I am Shelby, Peter! What did you do to yourself?" I took the shirt off. "What do you mean only I can take off your shirt?" I stood up and crossed my arms.

"I got drun-k. And I puked." He looked at his bare chest. "I was wearing a shirt. Where'd it go?" He touched his stomach. "I like Shelby, she's very pretty and nice. Did you know she paints? I did." I smiled a little.

"Come on, Peter, come in here." I helped him into the bathtub.

"Excuse me, but, uh, I'm still wearing my pants." I laughed.

"Yes. Don't take them off, ok. Just keep them on." I grabbed the sponge and washed off Peter's front with soap and water. Peter grabbed a strand of my hair and twirled it in his fingers.

"Shelby has really pretty hair too." He grinned. I walked out of the bathroom and grabbed the towels and a robe out of the wardrobe. I draped them on the dry sink as I filled a bowl with ice cold water. He blabbed on about me, to me. Suddenly, all the talking stopped. I turned around to see Peter passed out. I took the bowl of ice water and threw it on him. He leaped up and yelled.

"What the hell?!" He toppled out of the tub. "Where's my shirt? Why does my head hurt so bad? Why does my breath smell like shit?" His questions flooded the room.

"Your shirt is out there covered in nastiness. Your head hurts because you have a hangover and your breath smells like liquor and vomit." I answered. I stood holding two towels and the robe that I had set on the sink. "Change out of those gross pants and put the robe on, but dry off with these towels." I left the bathroom and closed the door. I sat on the end of the bed and waited. Then there was a guttural noise. I looked up and saw that the door was still shut and the poor boy behind it was puking his guts up. I got up and knocked on the door.

"What?" He yelled.

"Do you need anything?" I asked and opened the door a little.

"Some coffee would be lovely." I nodded.

"Meet me in the kitchen." I walked out of the bedroom and to the kitchen. I saw a kitchen aid preparing breakfast. I sat down in my spot. "Two coffees, please." I smiled at her. She complied and retreated to the kitchen.

"Thank you." Peter had approached me from behind.

"For what?" He sat down next to me and put his hand on mine.

"Helping me out. You didn't need to." He smiled at his coffee and took a sip.

"Yes I did or you'd look like a fool." I nodded at the server as she set down a plate in front of me. "Thank you."

"Thank you." Peter copied. "You're a wonderful person, and I normally wouldn't mind if a girl like you kept my clothes, but I need them back." He grinned.

"Ah, yes. Because that's exactly what I want in my room, your nasty clothes." I laughed. It was a blossoming something between us and my only hope was that it would get stronger.