thief | peter kavinsky

five

The worst part about getting into a fight with Peter was having to see him at school the very next day. If there was a word beyond both nervous and anxious combined, that would be me. Having to see his face when just hours before we were cursing each other out was like getting stabbed, recovering, then getting stabbed again. In the same spot. Repeatedly.

I felt my locker was my safe space. Being so, I spent the first thirty minutes of school with my face shoved into my locker. I pretended to clean it out, put books in and out for half an hour. I knew that Peter was going to eventually confront me– either to apologize or give me shit for it.

I acted very tough on the outside when, in reality, I was emotionally unstable. I couldn't let anyone know that I was vulnerable. They would then take advantage of me. So I pretended to be tough, to be a bitch. No one can hurt me that way. No one can leave.

"Dylan!" Summer whisper-yells.

She closes my locker, grabs my arm and pulls me into the bathroom. I was extremely confused for I had no idea what the hell was going on. She peeped outside with squinted eyes before turning over to me.

"Peter is looking for you." She says nonchalantly.

"You think I don't know that?"

She tries to keep me in the bathroom for longer so that I won't run into him but the fear was suddenly gone. I didn't care as much anymore. Maybe because I just spent thirty minutes with my head shoved in a surprisingly smelly locker.

Summer finally allowed me out the bathroom, much to her distaste. We walked the halls towards our first class. She was still talking about Peter and how she knows I hate confrontation.

"I'm fine, Summer. Really."

I'd never thought I would be happy to hear the bell ring. Class was a major bore but it was better than hiding from Kavinsky.

"Peter! There's an empty seat behind O'Conner. You can take your test there."

Oh fuck.

I look up, hoping I'd just imagined what I heard, but Peter Kavinsky was indeed walking my way. Instantly, I put my head down and pretend to be working on some bullshit equation. Peter slides into the seat behind me.

"I've been looking for you."

"I know." I whisper, still drawing in my notebook.

"Then why have you been ignoring me."

"I think you know why." I roll my eyes.

The teacher looks over to us and we both begin to work on whatever was in front of us. He stays silent for a couple of minutes as I anxiously slump deeper into my chair, hoping that I would just disappear.

"I'm sorry."

I heard the word all the time. Whether I was angry, depressed, sad, annoyed– I heard it almost every day of my life. But never has it meant something this much to me. Never has it hit me this hard. Why was two simple words making me question everything? Will I forgive him this easily? I can't. I won't.

"Okay."

"Come on, Dylan. I really am sorry. I was a dick to you." He sighed.

"You were." I agreed, nodding my head.

"What's going to make you forgive me?"

Peter always hated being guilty. He said that the thought of it made his skin crawl. Carrying around a huge weight on his shoulder was worse than any other feeling. If I forgive him he will never talk to me again, he would leave me alone. I'd finally be done with all this drama, which is why I turn around and say,

"I forgive you Kavinsky."

The cheesiest, goofiest smile lay on his lips and a small chuckle leaves it. The gesture makes me smile as well. I quickly turn around and focus on the work ahead of me, still beaming.

❀

After class I gather my things together and shove it into my book bag. I sling it over my shoulder and start walking when I realize I'm not going anywhere. I turn around to see Peter holding my book bag back.

"What?" I ask, shoving his hand off.

He laughs, "Were back to normal, I see."

"What the fuck are you talking about, Kavinsky? We've never had a normal conversation longer than five minutes." I added the normal to let him know that excludes the fight.

He starts walking, expecting me to follow. When I don't follow he stops and gestures me over. Hesitantly, I follow him. "So how about we make that happen."

"Huh?" I scrunch my eyebrows.

He smiles endearingly at me before putting back on that faux 'cool guy' look. I hated that damn face. Couldn't he just be himself?

"I mean. . . why don't we start talking more often?" He shrugs.

I tug at my ears and shake my head to make sure I was hearing him correctly, "Say again?"

He smiles again and mumbles something about me that I couldn't necessarily hear. He spots Lara Jean coming out of her classroom. He says 'bye' to me and runs towards her. They kiss and walk down the hallway, talking and laughing.

I've seen that sight so many times. So why does it suddenly feel wrong?

—

a/n: thank you so much for the love! i can't believe it! you guys are so cute. thank you again and i hope you enjoy the story :)