I know I know. I suck. I haven't updated in forever! But I do have good news! I have gotten 100 reviews! Eeeeek! Thanks so much guys I love you all. Please don't be mad, I had finals and got sidetracked. Please enjoy!

In bed that night, I reflected on what had happened. Peter was kind to me! He was sweet and caring and a gentleman. Did that mean he liked me? I had never been liked by someone so I didn't really know what to look for. Should it matter to me that he might possibly like me in a more than a friend way? Do I even like him back?

I shook my head to clear it out. Thinking was becoming painful. I turned over on my sides to attempt to sleep. But I couldn't help but think about how Peter had become so distracted by me that his marshmallow caught on fire. Flaming marshmallows weren't the issue; the issue was that it was his marshmallow. Peter was one of the most focused people I knew! I thought about the look in his eyes when he first looked up at me. It was the same look he gave me when he handed me his sweatshirt.

I sat up when I heard the door creak open.

"Shit, shut up," I heard someone hiss at the door. Her face came into view seconds later: Christina.

Her hair was messed up and her shirt looked wrinkled to a degree beyond repair. And her lips were puffy and red. Not red like her lipstick. Red like the color they turn after being kissed vigorously.

"Have a fun night?" I said.

She jumped at my voice and turned with wide eyes.

"Dammit, Tris, you almost gave me a heart attack!" she whispered. "What are you still doing up?"

"I could ask you the same question though I have a fair idea," I replied. "Will?"

Christina blushed and nodded. She closed the door behind her and sat next to me on my bed.

"He's so sweet. I really like him," she said. "I've been with a few guys before but none of them treated me the way he does."

"That's great," I said. "I'm really happy for you."

We sat quietly for a moment, her smiling at her feet. The light breezes whooshed past the window. The sound was calming.

"So what happened? Between you and Peter?"

Curiosity was written all over her face.

I rolled my eyes and succumbed to her, "It was nice. He was really sweet and gentlemanly. He complimented me and gave me his sweatshirt when I got cold—"

At that she squealed and said, "Did you kiss? Please tell me you kissed! I did not work that hard for nothing."

"Well it wasn't nothing, I mean he was really kind and everything—"

To which she moaned, "Noooooo! How could he resist kissing you after all that?!"

"I never said we didn't kiss," I protested.

"So you did?"

"No."

She sighed, "Come on, Tris."

"Sorry," I shrugged.

She sighed again, "Okay, I'm going to sleep now."

"You do that," I said. I rolled over onto my side as she climbed the ladder to the top bunk.

The next morning people were whooping in the halls and knocking on every door.

"We're going water skiing!" they screamed as they opened and shut the doors. "Get a bathing suit and go! The life vests are on the porch!"

But I stayed in bed. Christina shook me and whined about me leaving her alone and defenseless. But I would not budge. I wasn't sick or anything. Just didn't want to go water skiing. So Rare and Bethany left while Christina bounced on my bed, trying to get me to consent but I just yelled at her to shut her trap and go have fun without me. So finally she left the room grumbling about how much I sucked.

I sat on my lumpy bed for about ten boring minutes before wondering if there was a tv in the cabin. I got up and went downstairs. The downstairs was almost identical to upstairs; everything was made of wood. The main difference was that there were fewer rooms because of the kitchen and living room space. Turns out they did have a tv but that tv had only one channel. And that channel only played one thing: Ferris Bueler's Day Off.

I decided to watch because I had nothing else to do—and because it took place in my city. I poured myself a bowl of cereal and plopped down on the couch still wearing just my tank top and sleep shorts. I settled down to watch the movie I'd seen once before. I didn't remember much from before but watching it this time I laughed so hard I almost choked on my corn flakes.

In case you've never seen this movie, it's about a kid who ditches school by fooling his parents that he's sick. His parents, thinking he's a perfect do-gooder, always believe him. But Ed Rooney, the principal, doesn't and tries to catch him as Ferris and his friends Cameron and Sloan explore Chicago.

It was the fourth time I watched it in a row. I had been watching for hours and now had the movie almost entirely memorized. Nobody had come back to the cabin to get anything. It was completely silent except for the tv blaring Ferris's voice.

The sound of the front door opening made me jump.

"Hello?" a voice called. "Is anyone in here?"

"Yeah!" I shouted. "Living room!"

Peter entered the room and looked at me confused. He was wearing a green t-shirt that made his eyes pop in a way that couldn't have been natural.

"Where is everybody?" he asked.

"Water skiing," I told him.

"They forgot you too?"

I cocked my head to the side. They had forgotten Peter? Well…Uriah had been saying how he didn't want to spend any extra time than necessary with him…

"Forgot me?" I asked. "No, I just didn't want to go…they left without you?"

He sat down next to me and said, "I guess they just forgot to wake me up. What are we watching?"

The way he said 'we' made it sound like watching a movie with each other was the norm. That we spent every Saturday morning watching movies together and that this wasn't odd in the slightest.

"Ferris Bueler's Day Off."

"I love this movie!" he grinned.

"I don't," I frowned. "This is the fourth time I've watched it today."

"That sucks," he shrugged. "Well now you have company."

He ran to the kitchen, grabbed himself some cereal, and jumped next to me. We watched as Ferris impersonated the Sausage King of Chicago and hid in a taxi from his dad. Peter seemed to be enjoying the movie. He laughed at all the funny parts and looked engrossed in watching. But as the part of them in the museum played, he grabbed the remote and muted it.

"You don't like water, do you?" he asked randomly.

"Umm," I said. "It helps keep me alive so—"

"Not the drinking water," he said. "The swimming water."

"What makes you think that?" I asked.

"You're not out water skiing with everyone else," he said.

I shrugged and hid my embarrassed blush, "Maybe I just didn't want to go."

"That's not it," he shook his head. "You would have at least brought a bathing suit on this trip if you had trouble deciding."

"Maybe I forgot to bring one because I rush-packed."

"Then you could have borrowed one from Christina," he pointed out.

I looked down. He got me cornered and I couldn't think of another explanation. But I really didn't want to tell him or anyone for that matter.

He put a finger under my chin and tilted my face up to look him in the eye.

"Tris," he said softly. "Why didn't you go water skiing today? Or swimming last night? Why really?"

My heart beat loudly in my chest; from the thought of why or because Peter was so close, I wasn't sure.

I took a deep breath and said, "I am terrified of drowing."

And then I squeezed my eyes shut, preparing myself for laughter. 'You're so pathetic!' he would probably laugh.

But there wasn't a sound. He wasn't laughing or making fun of me.

Slowly, I opened my eyes and looked into his emerald ones. His gaze was soft, kind, and caring. Not things I had come to associate with Peter.

"It's not irrational to have fears," he said. "Everyone is afraid of something no matter how much they may deny it. At least you acknowledge it. That lets you control it a little more. That's why you're so brave; you have your fear under control."

His eyes felt like they were sucking me in, engulfing me in their warmth. I hadn't realized how close we had gotten until we were nose to nose.

Peter's gaze flickered between my eyes and my mouth. He narrowed his eyes at me as if asking for permission and, ever so slightly, I nodded my head yes.

I closed my eyes closed as his lips touched my own. It felt like a billion fireworks were set off in my toes and rocketed me to the moon.

After a few seconds, he pulled back and rested his forehead against mine.

"Congratulations," he whispered. "You've had your first kiss."

I replied, blushing, "And I'm about to have my second."

And I leaned in and kissed him again.

Fireworks.

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