To start this off, I'd like to mention that I didn't actually die. Not that the title is some click bait type of thing. I would never tell a lie, just as Umbridge had taught me. Oh, believe me, it's a hell of a story. And I'll be sure to recount every little detail. Otherwise, how would anyone believe that I'm not making it up? Fair warning, however; some parts may be mature. And every name except for mine was changed out of respect and privacy. Happy reading.
"You're kidding me." Peter's striking green eyes narrowed at me, and his lack of amusement was visible within the frown that wrinkled his young face. I shrugged my shoulders sheepishly, searching my thoughts for something to say to smooth things over.
It had always been this way. Every word that had ever come out of my mouth was meticulously crafted to perfection. I had created this image of myself in front of Peter that I would never want to chip in the slightest. He viewed me exactly how I wanted him to see me; and that speaks volumes given that I was three years his junior. Not that he was ignorant or transparent of course. I would never even think to associate those terms with him. To describe Peter, it would take a separate story to untangle his personality. But Peter isn't a main part of this story. He is still relevant, of course. My fifteen-year-old self would never hesitate to include him as an other, plus one, & company, miscellaneous...etc. But let's not get off track here.
"Honey, you know I would love nothing more than to spend each and every passing day with you." I am pleasantly surprised I didn't vomit. My voice came out sickly sweet yet genuine. I stare him down, matching his green eyes with my own. A few seconds pass before a dramatic sigh leaves my mouth. I break the eye contact purposefully and look down at the floor, pumping some sorrow into my voice.
"If I had any say in the matter, I would have gladly cancelled this." As if. "But I promised Laura months ago that I would be there for this year's Independence Day." No, I didn't. "And not only that, I kind of have to be there for her right now. She's really hung up over this guy." There was no guy.
Peter pursed his lips and lifted my chin up, studying my countenance like he always does.
"Babe, I know. I get it. But you promised that we would spend the summer together, now that we actually have time to see each other. And you're going away for ten whole days! That's practically half of the summer apart." Peter really needed a haircut. His light brown hair had become unkempt and untidy. I pretend to avoid his gaze as I stared at the poorly applied gel, which did not suit his face. Maybe he should go for a buzzcut. I found myself shaking my head slightly, knowing that wouldn't compliment his boyish looks and round face. I should get Peter to join a gym.
"Nicole." The sound of my name snaps me back into reality and I realize I zoned out again. A grin crosses my face that is too wide to be sincere. I plant a quick peck on him.
"Sorry. I was just thinking about how much I will miss you." I pout, knowing it looked completely bogus and played it up even more. Peter's face softens and he tilts his head to the side.
"I'm gonna miss you so much." He wraps me in a bear hug and squeezes so tight I was surprised my ribs stayed intact. I couldn't even hug him back since my arms were lost somewhere in that mess of a hug. I knew Peter mistook the silence that followed for a soundless loving answer and didn't loosen his grip. I let out a deep breath, trying to get some oxygen into my crushed lungs.
"Oh, darling, I love you too." Peter responds to no one and finally lets me go. I could feel my heart pounding in my ears and my breathing quickening as I recovered from that assault of a hug.
"Nicole, you don't have to say anything." Thank god. "I know this is just as hard for you too, if not more." How did I have the strength not to burst out laughing?
I realized that I was smirking and wiped it off. "Hey, I'm not leaving until Friday, so we still have a couple days together." How wonderful. Peter's face lit up and he nodded along enthusiastically.
"Come over tomorrow so I could show you that game I was telling you about?"
I grit my teeth. "Of course, babe."
I take out my phone and check the time. It wasn't even 5pm yet. My mind raced as I searched for the right thing to say.
"Oh, shoot. It's already almost five. I have to help my m-dad with something," I added, the lie ringing in my ears. At first I was about to say "mom", but I stopped myself because I knew he would get suspicious. When was the last time I even saw her?
"Yeah sure, no problem." Peter answers blankly and plants a short wet kiss on my lips. I smile before turning around and heading home. When he was far enough behind me, I wiped his saliva off my mouth.
It's not like I hated him or anything. Why would I be with someone if I hated them? I had just grown to dislike his presence more and more each passing day. The jokes that used to be funny to me were now pointless and irrelevant. The kisses that used to make my heart flutter were now dreaded.
Why did it even become like this?
Perhaps a story for another day.
Peter had been my (not so) significant other since November 2013. The current time was the end of June 2014. It was actually a really cliché story how we met, so is there a point to even tell it?
Aw shucks, I'm glad you guys care so much.
It was sophomore year that I had just finished. There weren't any major or significant events that occurred. Well, other than Peter. He had just finished his freshman year at the college which happened to be across the street from my high school. I often grabbed a Starbucks with my best friend Laura and hung out on that campus with her.
Ah yes, Laura. In a sense, the other significant other in my life. We had been the closest of friends since fourth grade. Friendships are like relationships in my opinion. You meet, decide if you can tolerate each other, the feelings grow and you become closer, and you share countless memories of laughter and insiders. The only real difference is the sex.
I had shared many firsts with Laura that I personally believe are very important. My first Starbucks. My first Chipotle. My first vacation with a friend. And second. And third. The list goes on and on. We leaned on each other like you would lean on your older sister, who is always willing to help out and be there for you.
Another first she gave me is taking me to her summer house upstate. But don't let me get ahead of myself here.
Back to Peter. When I had first stepped into all my classes that September, it was already clear where I would succeed and fail. It had taken less than a week for me to assess the teachers, classmates and ambiance in each class. Using this analysis, I could already predict the grades I would finish the semester with. Isn't it always like that?
The subject of relevance pertaining to this story was chemistry. Not advanced or honors chem. Regular, straight-Regents chemistry. I should take this moment to inform you all that chemistry is not in my genes.
From the first day, I had struggled with the simplest concepts. Perhaps it was because I couldn't pay enough attention and zoned out during the lesson. Or I had a bad teacher. It'll forever be an unsolved cold case. But that doesn't matter. What mattered was that I desperately needed a tutor.
Around the middle of September, I voiced my concerns to my parents. They were initially against the idea, thinking that I wasn't trying hard enough in the class. But I continued to nag until they folded. My mother told me she would find a tutor as soon as she could.
A couple days later, she told me she found one. I immediately began interrogating her regarding this person's reliability. For all I knew, she found a senile who studied chemistry when it was first discovered.
She clarified everything patiently. At work, she had some friends her age that had a son. This eighteen-year-old boy happened to be attending the college right next to my school. Given that his vocational goal was to become a physician's assistant, there was plenty of chemistry on his schedule. And since it was obvious that college chem was much more difficult than high school chem, it would only be logical for him to tutor me.
I stood - pondering all this information my mother was unloading. My first response?
"What does he look like?"
When my mother told me he looked like Justin Bieber, I considered backing out on the entire agreement. But since I was extremely anxious about my chemistry grade, I acquiesced. We agreed to have our first tutoring session on October 4th, 2013. My mother gave me his number and shared his name: Peter.
In that cloudy afternoon on October 4th, I saw Peter for the first time. My shy fifteen year old self was anticipating this meeting out of fear that this eighteen year old would turn out to be incredibly gorgeous, or incredibly stupid. I wasn't even sure which one was worse.
When I walked through the door, the first thing I saw was the back of his head. I stood there uncomfortably as I noticed how his light brown hairs caught the light and seemed to reflect it, thus creating blonde little highlights. Realizing I was hesitating a moment too long, I shifted my feet and cleared my throat to announce my attendance. He lifted his head and stood from his chair before facing me. It gave me a good extra second to prepare myself.
The first thing I noticed were his incredible eyes. It was rare for me to encounter someone with so much green. My own eyes were green, but not his green. He had a different green I had never seen before in my life. I decided to name them Peter green.
As for the rest of his face, there wasn't much to stare at. His forehead was dotted with some acne. He had a small nose that rounded near his nostrils. His bushy, dark brown eyebrows needed to be taken care of. His pale lips were set in a firm line, almost matching his pale skin. His jaw was slightly round just like the rest of him, and his ears were slightly pointed. And he needed a haircut.
My arm shot out before I even processed it and a wide smile crossed my face. "I am Nicole. Nice to meet you." My toothy grin was wearing thin when he shook my hand. "Likewise. I'm Peter, as you already know."
His voice. It was rather velvety, calm and soothing. I wanted him to talk more. So I sat down next to him and took out my notebook and textbook, stacking them on my lap. But before we got to the lesson, I wanted to get to know him a bit better. I asked him question after question and kept him talking; not paying attention to his answers so much as his deep voice.
End of act one.
I'm kidding. Just the end of that story within my big story. I might have more of these storyceptions.
That, my friends, is how I met Peter. It all started with him tutoring me, and later asking me out on a date. Now, I may touch base on our relationship a bit more throughout my tale, but now I would like to rewind and center on Laura.
It would be the second summer that I went to her summer house. There were about 4,000 homes there, all built inside a community. In other words, everyone knew each other. Most of the Russians I knew had a house there, so it was a pretty tight-knit Russian community. These houses were all in the wilderness, with a main artificial road that branched out to little streets and led to the lake. There was also a large pool where most of the people came to tan or relax.
Almost all of the members had children that ranged from toddlers to college students. These offspring's were all separated by groups that were based on age. The group Laura was a part of fluctuated between the ages fourteen and fifteen, such as ourselves. Many groups hung out together at the Clubhouse, which was a large building that had the best WiFi, a basketball court, a snack bar and many comfy couches. But when I say Clubhouse, I meant the parking lot attached to it. That is where everyone gathered every night to smoke, drink, and go crazy. This was usually the guys but girls often tagged along. I mean, who would pass up that opportunity?
There, almost every family had a golf cart besides an actual sedan or SUV. The minimum age for driving a golf cart is thirteen; so many kids use them to drive around the entire community by themselves or with their friends. Many of them park in the lot next to the Clubhouse to hang out there.
Laura's family has two golf carts: one that Laura uses and one for her grandmother. The first summer that I had arrived there to stay for a couple of days, I had been amazed with how independent all the children were and the freedom they were given with these golf carts.
By now, I had become more used to it and I was really looking forward to going back. Just as Laura always says, "there is always something going on at Hawk Lake." By this, she means drama and gossip. To a fifteen year old, it sounds heavenly.
I had known for months that I would spend these ten days there, but I conveniently failed to mention this to Peter. As far as he knows, I only found out about this commitment recently.
And I was ready for this vacation from Peter. From my parents. From the hustle and bustle of the city.
But I had no idea what was in store for me.