˗ˏˋ DISTRACTION, PETER KAVINSKY ˎˊ˗

˗ˏˋ FOUR, REWRITTEN ˎˊ˗

     "So, we need to figure some things out before we tell everyone we're suddenly hot for each other." Peter repeats, clarifying the purpose for the phone call. Rosalie pauses for a second before nodding, smiling at his choice of words.

     "Yeah, because people are going to be suspicious, and then we're going to have to answer their questions about the kiss on the track and about your relationship with Genevieve and if we're actually together or just fooling around..." She rambles, picking at her hair and twirling it around her finger nervously.

      The connection begins to break up, and for a moment it disconnects— but soon after Peter is back on her screen and he's agreeing with her. "We need to be on the same page so our stories add up."

     "I don't want it to seem like I ruined your relationship with Genevieve— like I'm a home-wrecker. Us 'getting together' has to be very, very recent." Rosalie worries over her reputation, and while she had more friends than Gen, the girl could do wonders with degradation and rumors.

     "Gen and I hooked up two or three nights ago, so we could say we started dating last night, maybe?" Peter tries to pinpoint an exact date, trying hard to remember which night he spent with his ex. He's looking around himself now, and not down at the screen— and she wonders if he's lost.

     "Come outside."

     Apparently not.

     Rosalie immediately jumps into the air and shoots up from her position on her bed, going over to the window.

     "You're here?"

     She pushes back her curtains, and sitting on his bike in the middle of the empty road is Peter Kavinsky, staring up at her. His phone is illuminating his face from below, and his jaw is coated in the blue and white light— Rosalie brushes off the thought of how good he looks, sweaty and messy from riding his bike, and shiny and mysterious from the night and the phone.

     "Come down."

    She looks down at what she's wearing— a matching pink pajama set. It's a cute babydoll tank that flows, and small striped shorts with a silky ribbon in the waistband. Her hair is pushed to the side, all messy and not as straight as it was earlier in the day.

     Her parents would never let her out of the house this late in her pajamas, but she knows Peter will get impatient if she changes. She quietly turns down the volume on her phone and turns off her room light. Opening the door and glancing down the hallway, Rosalie spots Frankie's door wide open. He won't let her pass by; if he finds out Peter's outside waiting for her, he would tell their parents.

     Window, it is then, she decides. Rosalie creeps back into her room, and shuts her door. She quickly makes her way across the room, climbing onto the two Yogibo beanbags and opening her window. She's lucky enough to have a bedroom that somewhat faces the front of the house, and Peter leaves his bike on the grass— walking over after he noticed her opening the window.

     "Hold on a second, I'm coming down." She whispers, and it takes a moment for Peter to distinguish what she said and nod. Rosalie glances down at the piece of flat roof under her window. It's slightly slanted, but she knows she'll be able to walk across it safely— having done it all the time when she was younger.

     What she's really worried about is the trellis. Her father had built her mother a trellis along with the house years before they adopted Milo, and the white rose covered addition didn't seem stable enough to hold her weight. She figures that she can climb down the side of her roof, but she'll be too short to touch the ground. She wouldn't be able to touch the railing of her porch— seeing as it went further in than the roof.