Just as I finished reading, Peter leaned himself against my doorframe, as
casually as possible. I looked up at him for a minute, then, motioned for
him to sit beside me. He did. Peter looked at me for a second and then put
his arms around me, pulling me into his lap. I cuddled up against him,
resting my head on his shoulder.
"What's wrong?" I asked, knowing that this was not Peter. He was normally so happy, so energetic.
"Nothing," he said. "I just want to ask you something."
"Alright," I replied. "Shot."
Peter let go of me and positioned himself so that he was in front of me. He looked at me for a second and then leaned forward. Peter pressed his lips against mine, moving his hands so that while one was on my back, the other cradled my head in his hands. Eventually, I pulled away, too stunned before to protest or submit, although I was more apt to the second. It was a sweet kiss, but our first kiss all the same. A slow, shy smile crept across Peter's face.
"Sydney.like I said.I want to ask you a question." said Peter. He blushed, an extremely unheard of thing for him to do.
"Go ahead," I replied. Peter gently took my hands in his.
"I know that this is a very odd time, but-" Just then, the phone rang. Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"It'll just take me a minute," I said. "No worries." I quickly picked up the phone, less than overjoyed to be interrupted when Peter obviously had something important to say.
"Sydney here," I said. "May I ask who's calling?"
"Your mom."
"Oh." I said. "Right O then. What's up?" I motioned to Peter, dismissing him, as no conversation with my mother had ever lasted less than an hour. He left the room, no doubt going back to the kitchen. I sat down on my bed, getting comfy. I knew that I'd be in whatever position I choose for an eternity.
"Well, I was just calling to check on my little girl. How are you?"
"I'm fine," I replied. "But obviously, something is wrong with you." I didn't have time to play games, nor the patience.
"Well, it's your grandmother. She insists that she needs to come down to see us this week, but I just don't think it's possible."
"And what can I do about this?" I asked. I was very annoyed that she interrupted Peter just to complain about my grandma.
"Well, I don't really know what you can do, but you're father won't listen to me and you know how your brother is." The conversation went on for about two hours. It basically consisted of my mother arguing back and forth with herself over what to do, paying to no regard to the fact that I was actually not listening, but doodling. I just said "of course" or "no way" once in a while. I wasn't into the mood to actually tell her that she might as well have sat down with a lawn gnome to talk it over, or that in fact, the lawn gnome would care more than I did.
I ended the conversation, probably stopping her in mid-sentence because after the two hours, it all seemed to slur together, by saying, "Well, I know how it awful that must be, but I have to go do some laundry. Bye."
I promptly hung up, not waiting for a response. I sighed and slumped back into the pillows at the head of my bed, until I suddenly remembered that before the whole "Grandmother Ordeal" (as my mother called it) conversation, I had had a life and that Peter had wanted to tell me something. I ran into the kitchen, but did not find him. I tried the living room next, with luck. Peter was sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the TV, which was on some sort of bogus show about the seventeen hundreds and popular weapons of the time.
"Peter." I said. "You wanted to tell me something?"
His response was in a mutter, his eyes not having focused any more than they had been before I ever said anything.
"Oh, come on. Please tell me?" I asked, sitting down beside him and actually turning his head to face me.
"Nevermind," he said. "Maybe later tonight." I sighed because I really did want to know what he had said. Curse my mother and her poor timing. Why couldn't she have called while I was doing something that I could have used an excuse to get out of? Of course not, that would have worked too well for me.
"Ok then," I said. I took the switcher from Peter's hand and turned the channel to some sort of stunt show, just stupid enough to be entertaining while still letting you not actually think.
"Weren't you making dinner?" I asked Peter after a reasonable amount of time.
"Aye, but it can wait," he answered. "Let's go the pub."
"Alright," I replied. "I'm up for a pint."
"Or in your case: four," teased Peter. I laughed.
"Ok, then, let's get a move on so that I can get down a good 3 pints before we should be home," I said. Peter and I went to the pub. A good meal and about two pints later, we got home at just before eight o'clock.
After sitting on the couch for a while, I started paying less attention to the actual show we were quote/unquote watching and more to Peter's question that he had been wanting to ask me before. I wondered what Peter had wanted to ask me, but all pondering of that matter soon went out of my mind as I remembered our kiss. It had been so out of Peter's character, the quietness of it. I had always thought that if he would kiss me it would be like a joke, but he had been completely serious, like it meant something to him. I had to know what he was going to ask me; it was eating me alive.
"Peter, it's later and you said that you would tell me 'later' what you were going to ask me before." I said. Peter looked over at me and slipped his left arms around my shoulders.
"Just trust me," he said. "Not now." I nodded. It was his question; I couldn't force it out of him, but I did have another question of my own.
"Why'd you kiss me?" I asked. Peter didn't look at me. In fact, he made a point of not breaking his gaze from the TV as his face turned crimson. I cuddled up against him.
"Well, did you like it?" he asked, after a while, still not looking at me.
"Ya, I did," I answered. Finally, he looked at me. He was still blushing, but managed to smile a bit.
"It'll all make sense tomorrow night when I ask you what I was going to ask you before your mum called, alright?" asked Peter. "Trust me."
"Ok," I replied. "But it's driving me insane."
"Me also," said Peter, "but that wasn't my intention." He tightened his grip around me and I rested my head on his shoulder. I had found kingdom and then my prince. My faerie tale was just beginning...
"What's wrong?" I asked, knowing that this was not Peter. He was normally so happy, so energetic.
"Nothing," he said. "I just want to ask you something."
"Alright," I replied. "Shot."
Peter let go of me and positioned himself so that he was in front of me. He looked at me for a second and then leaned forward. Peter pressed his lips against mine, moving his hands so that while one was on my back, the other cradled my head in his hands. Eventually, I pulled away, too stunned before to protest or submit, although I was more apt to the second. It was a sweet kiss, but our first kiss all the same. A slow, shy smile crept across Peter's face.
"Sydney.like I said.I want to ask you a question." said Peter. He blushed, an extremely unheard of thing for him to do.
"Go ahead," I replied. Peter gently took my hands in his.
"I know that this is a very odd time, but-" Just then, the phone rang. Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"It'll just take me a minute," I said. "No worries." I quickly picked up the phone, less than overjoyed to be interrupted when Peter obviously had something important to say.
"Sydney here," I said. "May I ask who's calling?"
"Your mom."
"Oh." I said. "Right O then. What's up?" I motioned to Peter, dismissing him, as no conversation with my mother had ever lasted less than an hour. He left the room, no doubt going back to the kitchen. I sat down on my bed, getting comfy. I knew that I'd be in whatever position I choose for an eternity.
"Well, I was just calling to check on my little girl. How are you?"
"I'm fine," I replied. "But obviously, something is wrong with you." I didn't have time to play games, nor the patience.
"Well, it's your grandmother. She insists that she needs to come down to see us this week, but I just don't think it's possible."
"And what can I do about this?" I asked. I was very annoyed that she interrupted Peter just to complain about my grandma.
"Well, I don't really know what you can do, but you're father won't listen to me and you know how your brother is." The conversation went on for about two hours. It basically consisted of my mother arguing back and forth with herself over what to do, paying to no regard to the fact that I was actually not listening, but doodling. I just said "of course" or "no way" once in a while. I wasn't into the mood to actually tell her that she might as well have sat down with a lawn gnome to talk it over, or that in fact, the lawn gnome would care more than I did.
I ended the conversation, probably stopping her in mid-sentence because after the two hours, it all seemed to slur together, by saying, "Well, I know how it awful that must be, but I have to go do some laundry. Bye."
I promptly hung up, not waiting for a response. I sighed and slumped back into the pillows at the head of my bed, until I suddenly remembered that before the whole "Grandmother Ordeal" (as my mother called it) conversation, I had had a life and that Peter had wanted to tell me something. I ran into the kitchen, but did not find him. I tried the living room next, with luck. Peter was sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the TV, which was on some sort of bogus show about the seventeen hundreds and popular weapons of the time.
"Peter." I said. "You wanted to tell me something?"
His response was in a mutter, his eyes not having focused any more than they had been before I ever said anything.
"Oh, come on. Please tell me?" I asked, sitting down beside him and actually turning his head to face me.
"Nevermind," he said. "Maybe later tonight." I sighed because I really did want to know what he had said. Curse my mother and her poor timing. Why couldn't she have called while I was doing something that I could have used an excuse to get out of? Of course not, that would have worked too well for me.
"Ok then," I said. I took the switcher from Peter's hand and turned the channel to some sort of stunt show, just stupid enough to be entertaining while still letting you not actually think.
"Weren't you making dinner?" I asked Peter after a reasonable amount of time.
"Aye, but it can wait," he answered. "Let's go the pub."
"Alright," I replied. "I'm up for a pint."
"Or in your case: four," teased Peter. I laughed.
"Ok, then, let's get a move on so that I can get down a good 3 pints before we should be home," I said. Peter and I went to the pub. A good meal and about two pints later, we got home at just before eight o'clock.
After sitting on the couch for a while, I started paying less attention to the actual show we were quote/unquote watching and more to Peter's question that he had been wanting to ask me before. I wondered what Peter had wanted to ask me, but all pondering of that matter soon went out of my mind as I remembered our kiss. It had been so out of Peter's character, the quietness of it. I had always thought that if he would kiss me it would be like a joke, but he had been completely serious, like it meant something to him. I had to know what he was going to ask me; it was eating me alive.
"Peter, it's later and you said that you would tell me 'later' what you were going to ask me before." I said. Peter looked over at me and slipped his left arms around my shoulders.
"Just trust me," he said. "Not now." I nodded. It was his question; I couldn't force it out of him, but I did have another question of my own.
"Why'd you kiss me?" I asked. Peter didn't look at me. In fact, he made a point of not breaking his gaze from the TV as his face turned crimson. I cuddled up against him.
"Well, did you like it?" he asked, after a while, still not looking at me.
"Ya, I did," I answered. Finally, he looked at me. He was still blushing, but managed to smile a bit.
"It'll all make sense tomorrow night when I ask you what I was going to ask you before your mum called, alright?" asked Peter. "Trust me."
"Ok," I replied. "But it's driving me insane."
"Me also," said Peter, "but that wasn't my intention." He tightened his grip around me and I rested my head on his shoulder. I had found kingdom and then my prince. My faerie tale was just beginning...