AN: Hey guys. I hope you've enjoyed it so far. I do make some references to the book, so if the lines are similar, it all goes to Jenny Han, including the characters (except for the ones I invent). I really hope you like it. Oh and by the way. I've updated the the previous chapters because I realize I didn't copy and paste everything so it might have been a bit confusing. Sorry about that.
I settle into the routine of the semester. When I was younger, Mommy would always wake us up early because "that's when the brain works best", and so I signed up for mostly morning classes. Every Friday night, I video chat with Margot over dinner and every Sunday night I call Kitty and Daddy.
There's one more thing though. I haven't told Margot or Kitty yet, but on Saturday nights, I meet up with John at that cafe and go through the list of drinks that they have. This time, I'm running late. I'm shoving books and folders into my bag while walking across the street to the small building. My cheeks are flushed as I enter and if I had glasses, they'd be foggy for sure. He's sitting in that same corner that day we met. I walk towards him but then my not-so-eloquently-shoved-in-books fall out of the bag and I almost trip. He gets up and comes over to help me. I try to ignore the annoyed customers that are behind me while we pick up my books. Awkwardly, I pat his shoulder and say, "Thank you…"
"Well, wouldn't want you falling for anyone else." He nudges me with his elbow as we walk to our usual seat. I laugh but the sound is foreign to my ears. I don't think he meant that literally, right? We're in such a good place right now as friends and he's over what he felt for me before.
For some reason, that makes me feel weird inside. But I shrug it off to the what ifs. I want to appear confident, but my smile is shy when I say, "Wouldn't want Dipti to hear that, now would you?"
"Oh. Um…, we're actually not together anymore?" he phrases like a question as he scratches the back of his head and his cheeks go pink.
"Oh, why'd you say it like that?" I mentally slap myself for being so insensitive. Why am I even allowed to speak. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that."
"No, it's okay. It was just the whole distance thing. You know how it is."
I swallow. "Not anymore."
"Oh sorry to hear that." He looks away.
I muster up the best smile I can and say, "No need to be sorry John Ambrose."
He looks me in the eye and he's not grinning anymore. His blue eyes are intent and he just… looks at me. And just like when he read my letter, I feel naked. The only thing I can do is to look away.
It feels like ages pass by, when really, it's a few minutes. I don't know what to talk about. Anything I say could push us off the tightrope we've been walking.
"We don't have to talk about it, you know," he finally says. "And if I'm really honest, I don't know what to say that'll make this better which is hard for me because I usually always have the right words, but I can always sit with you for however long you want. That's what my Mom and I did whenever I was sad."
"You'd just sit there?" I ask. This seems like safer territory. My heart fills with something bittersweet.
"Yeah. Usually on the sofa. She'd put her arm around me and that's all it took to feel like I could move past whatever I was going through."
"You know, my Dad and I would go to the Corner Cafe and play this song on the jukebox that my Mom used to love. She'd always dance to it." I look down at my lap. Maybe I can call Daddy later tonight.
One side of his mouth quirks up. "I don't have anything jukebox worthy, but I think I have an idea." He pulls out his phone and scrolls through it. His eyes light up as them meet mine again. The familiar saxophone of Careless Whisper plays. Some customers look at us and I start to blush. "Dance with me, Lara Jean," he says, getting up and swaying to the music. And it's the way he says my name that makes me want to get up and do it too.
"Very funny. Why is that even on your playlist?" I say instead while laughing.
"No reason." he blushes. "Come on, Lara Jean, you know how much I can't dance. I'm making an exception for this very special occasion." He nods seriously.
"And what's that?" I play along.
"That we made it to today." And he smiles a genuine John Ambrose McClaren smile.
I feel brave at the thought. "Only if you change the song."
John playfully rolls his eyes. "Fine, fine. So demanding."
"It's not demanding. I call it 'particularly selective.'"
He laughs. "And you claim you're an English major, Ms. Redundancies."
My cheeks warm. My professor said the same thing about my essay. "Shush, you. Just pick a different song."
He thinks for a moment, and then his eyes light up and he types something rapidly into his phone. I Had the Time of My Life starts playing. He sets the phone on the table and drags me to an open spot.
We try to recreate the dance from Dirty Dancing, but fail miserably. My laughter echoes his as he spins me around and around. I almost forget to feel dizzy. At the end, he tries to lift me up like Johnny lifted Baby, but it ends up being just like how he picked me up and spun me around at the USO party at Belleview so long ago.
We're so out of breath when we finish and everyone claps for us. My heart flutters at the sight of John looking so happy.
What if I had picked you? pops into my head and I banish it quickly. I wouldn't trade what I had with Peter for the world.
He gives me a look that I can't quite read. It's like he's reading my mind, but I can't seem to read his. So we pack up and he walks me to my dorm.
"I had a lot of fun," he admits.
"Yeah, me too." I feel like I'm floating. Before I can even think about it, I'm on my tip toes and I kiss him on the cheek quickly.
"Why'd you do that?"
"Because you've always been John Ambrose McClaren," I get out breathlessly. "Good night."
He's probably blushing as hard as I am. "Good night Lara Jean."
I close my door and lean back against it. It's really cold in the dorm because the heat's broken, but I feel warm enough inside.
When I tell Margot everything, she just says, "Are you sure he's not in love with you?"
"Yeah, of course I'm sure. Why would I not be sure?" I sputter out.
She gives me a smug look. "I don't know Lara Jean…," she drags out. At my glare, she loses the look and becomes more Margot-like. She says, "Come on Lara Jean, you can't deny that there's nothing between you two."
I think about it for a moment. Would John have kissed me if I'd stayed longer at my door? Would I have let him? "I don't know Margot." I take in a deep breath and admit to Margot what I didn't have the courage to admit to myself. "I miss Peter."
Margot was always the sage one out of all three of us. She didn't always have the answer, but she'd always make us feel better. "Lara Jean, you're going to miss him for a while. I think you're first love always changes you for the better, whether you realize it or not."
I look down at the keyboard of my computer. "It's just that I think that in some ways, Gen was always there. He got back together with her, so, I don't know, maybe he was never really over her? He just got good at hiding it."
"Don't do that Lara Jean. Don't discount the good. I think he really did love you. But I also think he's and idiot for ever letting you go and going back to Gen."
I don't know. If he ever belonged to me, it was the Peter in that moment. Not the Peter that changes or grows up. No, that Peter, belongs to Genevieve. She was right too. He will never love anyone, as much as he loves her. "Gogo…," I whimper.
"I know. But do you remember what Mommy said?" she asks.
I sniffle. "That you shouldn't go to college with a boyfriend?"
"Yes that, but also, you don't want to be the girl crying about her boyfriend, and saying no to things when you really want to say yes."
She was right. I remember Margot saying this to me when she first broke up with Josh. I never thought I'd be the one who got left. But it's still a story about Mommy, and despite every little or no-so-little heartbreak, she is my biggest one.
And that's why I listen to Margot. To keep her with me.
When I get the phone call, it's 2:00 a.m. on Saturday and I'm almost finished the readings that my professor assigned. I'm half asleep, so I jolt awake at the sound and yawn. The screen flashes his name. I don't know if I should pick it up. I don't really know the rules. While I'm silently debating, the phone stops ringing, much to my relief. I decide to go to bed.
I can't sleep though. When I think of Peter now, I think that maybe the time we spent together was just a detour from the road to who he is truly meant to be with. I do believe he really loved me at some point though. But there's just something about first loves that you never quite forget. Like it has the power to bleed into all your other relationships. I know I'll always hold a piece of Peter with me, even when I fall in love again. I guess sometimes you get lucky enough to be with your first love forever, but sometimes you don't. I just wasn't one of them.
The phone rings again, this time my roomate, Mellie (short for Amelia) stirs. She grumbles a bit and mumbles something about how she should've chosen to room alone. She kind of reminds me of Chris when she tries to drag me to parties and out to bars with her friends. She tells me I remind her of her grandma. I seem to get that a lot.
Not wanting to wake her, I go tiptoe to the hallway and answer the call. "Hello?" I whisper into the darkness. But I hear the booming sound of music coming from big speakers, and the loud chatter of people nearby.
"Lara Jean?" he slurs. His voice is so low that I think he's about to fall asleep.
"Peter? Are you okay?" Despite everything, I still worry about him.
The noise gets quieter and quieter. He hasn't said anything for a while now but I keep on the line anyway. There are words on the tip of my tongue that I want to say because I know he won't remember it by the morning, but I don't say anything. And I don't know why. I just listen to the sound of his breathing as he walks. Soon enough, I can't hear anything at all.
"Lara Jean?" he says again like he's afraid that I've already hung up.
"Yes Peter?" I try to keep my voice as neutral but I end up sounding too eager to hear what he has to say."
"I'm sorry." he cries out. "I'm so fucking sorry…" he keeps talking but I'm not listening anymore. I don't I've ever heard him cry before. He sounds so… broken. I've never known Peter like this and I don't really want to anymore. But he's sorry. He's so fucking sorry.
And that's all I really wanted to hear.