One Dance 3: Illusions

13.

"Ten minutes! We aren't kidding! The Carnival of Lights is tonight and we don't want to miss it!"

Mr. Harrington escorted half the kids off of the bus while the other half remained; some asleep and some just opting to stay.

You and Sam went to the bathroom together, chatting about all the fun sights in Prague you'd both get to see.

"If we don't go to Charles Bridge, I'm going to write a serious letter of disappointment to the tour company," Sam complained.

"Oh, stop it."

You both freshened up in front of the mirrors next to a few other girls.

"Two minutes! We're leaving in two minutes!"

You both rolled your eyes at Mr. Harrington before getting back onto the bus. You looked through the isles but Peter wasn't there.

"You seen Peter?" you asked Sam, who shrugged. You walked back to your seats, a confused expression on your face.

He eventually came up the little steps, his face red and flustered.

"Peter, you okay?"

"Yeah, uh...Ned, he played a trick on me. Scared the crap out of me!" he laughed awkwardly. You weren't buying it, but you didn't know how to press him without sounding nosy.

You nodded and turned back to Sam, who continued her video of "Spider-Man Fails."

Peter sighed loudly next to you and you turned back to him, unable to keep your curiosity silent.

"Peter, what's wrong?" you leaned in a little closer, whispering, "you can tell me."

"It's nothing, y/n, it's—"

"Oh my gosh, is that Peter? Haha, dude!"

The source of the voice was a kid you hardly knew; Bray? Brad? He was talking to Flash, who was holding his phone up and laughing at it.

Soon the whole bus was turning around to look at Peter, who had managed to hide himself from their eyes behind the seat. He was pinching his nose, cursing under his breath.

"Y/n...?" said Sam quietly. You looked over at her and then her phone, which currently had a photo of Peter with his pants half-down in front of some random woman.

Your heart dropped into your stomach and you felt sick. Maybe it was the fact that Sam had such a revealing picture of Peter, or the fact that he had his pants down in front of some model-looking woman you could never compete with. Either way, you wanted to puke.

"Delete that, Sam," you whispered, a wave of heat coming over your body.

"Y/n, it's not what it looks like, okay—"

"Peter," you forced out of your mouth. "You don't have to say anything. It's fine."

"But i didn't—y/n, it was F—" he lowered his voice, eyeing Sam who was definitely overhearing this conversation.

"We can talk about this later, okay?" you said shakily, silently cursing your stupid voice for giving away your feelings.

Peter's eyebrows dipped sadly and he turned away from you, closing his eyes and putting his face in his hands.

***

"Y/n, look at this place! Ahhh, it's gorgeous!"

The new hotel in Prague was pretty nice, you had to admit.

You spotted Peter awkwardly standing off by himself, staring blankly into space. You felt horrible for him.

The photo had been airdropped to everyone on that bus, including you, though you had of course declined it. But the other twenty or so people on the trip had that picture, and you knew that if the roles were reversed, you'd be feeling down too.