A/N: Okay, you're all probably bored with the first chapter of my fic. I know, I know, it's needs a little boost to "capture the reader's interest." Don't worry, it's all exposition (stuff that sets the story). This chapter is a bit more upbeat, though there's no dialogue ~ sorry. But trust me, Chapter 3 will be so much better. And I'll add in more of UST in the story. And don't forget to review if you can. Thanks. {^_^}
Halfway through her Economics essay, Nicole glanced over at the digital clock. 12:30 a.m. It was definitely time to get some rest. I'll just finish this during my lunch break at school tomorrow. With that settled, Nicole clicked off the halogen lamp and slumped her way to bed. The instant her head touched the pillow, she fell into a deep sleep.
The slight rustle of leaves filled the quiet room. A figure, hidden by shadow, made his way around the utilitarian room, examining the no nonsense decor and the lack of personality within the room. The room had the reminiscence of being a child's room once. A small patch of yellow bunny wall-paper still encircled the light switch. Old toys were boxed in a far corner labeled "DONATIONS." And on the bottom bookshelf, buried under years of dust, was a faded hard-covered child's book. Quietly, Peter removed the book from the shelf. He blew out a big whoosh of air that not only cleared the dust off the book's cover, but also made the him sneeze.
The girl stirred in the bed and mumbled something inaudible. In a quick dash, Peter crouched down by the foot of the bedpost. When the girl stopped her fumbled movements, he slowly moved, in cat-like motion, towards the front of the bed and peered down at the sleeping girl.
A curtain of dark brown hair, nearly black in moonlight, framed a delicate pale face. She was dressed in a black ribbed tank top that hugged her chest and waist perfectly and soft flannel pajama pants that seemed three sizes too big for her. She was a small, petite-looking girl, Peter thought. If she didn't have those slight dark circles under her eyes, she wouldn't have been a day older than 10. However, the appearance of a prominent bosom and the curves usually associated with womanhood suggested she was, at best, a young lady of 16 or 17.
Peter found gazing at the girl very pleasant. As he made more and more frequent visits away from Neverland, Peter Pan began to age somewhat over the years. He no longer had that young boyish appearance about him, such as that of 12-year-old, though he acted like one majority of the time. Instead, he bordered that fine line between a man and a boy.
Despite himself, Peter reached his hand out and gently stroked the girl's hair. It was soft to the touch, like the down feathers found in the under-wings of geese. And her hair had the peculiar scent of roses and oranges.
Peter looked down at the book in his hand and smiled at the title, The Adventures of Peter Pan. As he was about to view to first page, a tiny cloud of dust floated over the girl's nose. Within seconds, a loud "Ah choo" erupted from her lips, and she woke to find a young lad dressed in leaves floating above her with a curious expression on his face.