Making my way to the clifftop, I wonder exactly what Peter could want from me. Why would he call me to an isolated place, with no Lost Boys around to listen in? Would it be an ambush? Perhaps he would push me off the side.

We hadn't had a terrible relationship since I first arrived on Neverland, but he was never one to really single out Lost Boys (or girls, for the matter). For a moment, I consider turning around and going back to camp. But I would have to speak to Peter either way, and this way may be a bit quicker.

If I leave him, he'll only punish me more cruelly.

So I make my way closer, finally arriving in the shrubbery that frames an empty dirt landing patch that Peter uses when he's out flying. It's quite good for takeoff and landings because no vegetation is in the way.

Today, though, it wasn't completely clear. I notice a blanket on the edge of the cliff, and Peter sits on it, his legs dangling over the edge.

As if he's sensed that I've arrived, he calls out, "You're finally here, (y/n)."

"I had my doubts, I must say," I walk to stand behind him, but he pats the spot on the blanket next to him. I sit down, thinking that I have no choice.

Peter turns to me, and I notice just how brightly his eyes glow. I shake my head, knowing it is most likely the magic inside him which makes them glow. Eyes are a bridge to the soul, and magic is known to link to the soul.

"Why have you called me here, Peter? Am I not as good as the Lost Boys because I am a girl? Are you going to send me back to the real world?" The thought hadn't occurred to me before, but now that it had, I was hoping this was not the case. My life back home hadn't been the greatest, to put it mildly.

I won't bother to get into it; that would take at least an hour to explain.

"No, no of course not. In fact, you're actually very efficient. Quick, agile, witty; is there anything you can't do?" Peter answers, surprising me.

I think for a moment, not because I can't think of anything but because I have to pick from the many things I am terrible at.

"Well, there's juggling, cooking, kissing-"

"You can't kiss?" Peter looks surprised, and I see his vibrant eyes flicker down to watch my lips.

"Well, I haven't really had the relationships to practice with, and after the one chance I had, the guy said I was too sloppy. it was so embarrassing!" I don't know why I suddenly feel as if I should be telling my whole life story to Peter, but I figure someone might as well know it before I'm pushed off the side of the cliff or sent back to the real world, where Peter Pan is only a nighttime story.

"Well, we have to fix that then, don't we?"

"Uh- we do?" I automatically catch on to what he's saying in my mind, but my body just kind of freezes, and my heart speeds up.

What if he's trying to trick me? It certainly wouldn't be the first time he's ever used deceit.

"Yeah," Peter says simply, and then he picks up his hands from their propped up position behind him and moves them toward my face, gently taking my chin in one and tucking a stand of hair behind my ear with the other.

Is this seriously happening? I mean, I knew Peter was attractive (Definitely! I'm still a girl, with girls hormones!), but I had never thought of actually kissing him. It had just never occurred to me that he could feel that way.

"A-Are you sure?" I don't know why that's the first thing to pop from my mouth, but it just seems to come out naturally.

"Of course I am. Look, I know you think I'm just some huge villain to follow around, but believe it or not, I have a heart too. And (y/n), a large part of that heart belongs to you."

His mouth connects with mine, and I follow my instincts. All I can do is hope that it's not as sloppy as my last kiss. Peter doesn't seem at all grossed out, so I think I'm doing alright in that category.

His lips are chapped slightly, but so are mine. Chapstick isn't a problem to obtain on Neverland, but why bother when you aren't planning on using lips for anything but talking? I may have just found a reason for that now though.

My hands are kind of hanging around my lap, but Peter brings his own hands to them and lifts them up, clasping them. He pulls away from our kiss and inhales, opening his eyes as he rests his forehead against mine. It looks like he has one eye because he is so close. One big, beautiful, bright eye.

He takes his forehead off of my own after a few silent moments of heavy breathing on both of our ends.

"We should practice that more often," He smirks; and adorable smirk that really should belong on a smug puppy rather than the leader of a pack of bloodthirsty Lost Boys.

I agree, and it seems to go without saying.

"Ya know, you really aren't that sloppy of a kisser. That last boy must not have know the definition of French kissing."

Our hands still embrace each other but now it's just one pair rather than two.

"So what does this make us, Peter?" I don't want to ask, but it's important to me. Although it seems like I'm the only girl on the island I don't want to just be used for a week and then flung off the side of the cliff I'm on right this moment.

"That's what I called you here for technically. I wanted to ask you to e my girlfriend. I was going to kiss you afterward, but an opportunity presented itself, and I couldn't just turn it away. (Y/n), will you be my Lost Girl?"

"Of course I will, Peter!"

Needless to say, after a few "lessons" with Peter, my kissing skills were definitely up to par.