PETER FACETIMES ROSALIE LATER THAT night, when she's already finished washing the dishes from dinner and started on her analytical essay for English. Her hands are covered in blue ink smudges, from carelessly fiddling with the pen.
The screen is momentarily blurry, and Peter's face only shows up after a few moments of shuffling. His hair is messy, and sticking out in all different directions, and he's a bit sweaty. The wind is blowing forcefully, his figure moving fast and changing often. There's someone else there that he's talking to, and Rosalie wonders why he's riding his bike at eleven o'clock at night.
And why didn't he call her when he was alone?
Peter looks down at his phone at that moment, and the fleeting question of how he's holding it crosses her mind. There's a big grin on his face, before he turns away from the phone and gestures the other person to come closer. At this point, he's stopped moving, and everything is much clearer.
"Rosie, baby," he greets, and Rosalie can feel her cheeks flushing. She knows he only said it to show the other person there that they know each other intimately— which they really didn't, but oh well— but she's always loved pet names. That is, until Peter said it.
Rosalie glances at her open door, grabbing her phone and getting up to stick her head out to peek if her parents or her brother heard. After a moment, she closes her door and throws herself down onto her bed.
"Peter... darling." She replies after a moment, forcing herself to sound sweet and cute— like an actual girlfriend.
Who even says darling anymore?
Well, her grandfather only refers to her grandmother as so, but they were her grandparents. Nobody her age says darling anymore.
They really should, though.
There's a loud 'whoop' and holler after she returns the affection, and a bunch of laughter. A blurry figure emerges from the side of Peter, Greg— one of his close friends. The resolution is starting to clear as he stands still, closer than she expected to the camera.
He's inspecting the screen, or more specifically her. "Man, I thought you were lying! Rosalie Garcia, man," he shakes his head as he claps Peter on the back, "you did the impossible! Dude, we all thought she was untouchable." Greg celebrates, and Peter laughs— but Rosalie isn't quite as 'happy' as the two of them.
Was she too unapproachable, or was she so unappealing that nobody wanted to go for her?
Was she easy to be interested in, but hard to be with?
She figures that she should take it as a compliment, as if she was above them and out of their leagues, but there's an underlying feeling that she doesn't like to it.
"Greg, I'm right here. You don't have to talk like I'm not there." She clarifies after a moment of watching them, and the boy starts laughing harder.
What was so funny about that?
Greg just shakes his head, "I gotta go, see y'all tomorrow, 'specially you little Rosie," his tone sounds a bit mocking, and he walks away, but not without a comment about taming the dragon.
Rosalie's annoyed, she's never really liked some of the people Peter hung out with, but she couldn't judge him for his friends. Not everybody liked Chris, but she still hung out with her.
She waits a moment before speaking, and Peter finally glances back down at the screen. The sound of her voice seems to catch his attention, and he's started up on his bike again— and she finds herself needing to repeat what she says every so often.
"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.
Rosalie gulps, before sliding on a pair of discarded vans, and tucks her phone and the pen she had been playing with into the waistband of her shorts absentmindedly. Carefully, she climbs over the windowsill and onto the roof, making her steps light so she won't attract attention with noise.
"Careful, Garcia. Don't need you dying on me now. That'll just be pathetic," Peter murmurs, loud enough for Rosalie to hear, but still quiet enough that he won't attract extra attention.
"You say the sweetest things, Kavinsky." Rosalie's near the edge, sticking her foot out onto the trellis. She goes back and forth, applying pressure and weighing the consequences. The wooden trellis doesn't shake under part of her weight, but she can't guarantee it'll hold under her entirety.
There's only one real possibility.
Peter.
Rosalie sticks her head over the side of the roof, hesitantly glancing down at Peter. He's staring back up at her, intrigued at the situation. His arms are crossed against his chest, and she moves to sit down off the side. Peter catches on to her movements and walks closer to the porch, positioning himself under her.
He doesn't have to be asked to hold his arms out, and she's grateful that Peter's prepared, because the sound of a door slamming across the street scares Rosalie, and she ends up leaning forward too much— slipping from her seat on the roofing, and into Peter's arms.
He manages to catch her bridal style, much to her confusion, and Rosalie realizes she's never been this close to Peter (without kissing him, as a matter of fact) and she's never realized that his brown eyes remind her of chocolate.
"Not bad, Kavinsky. Thanks."
"You're welcome, Garcia."
Peter places her down on her feet, and Rosalie briefly brushes against his side while grabbing his wrist— leading him away from the front of the house and into the backyard. She's looking up as she does so, watching for movement and lights upstairs in her house.
She reaches up and unhooks the gate, allowing Peter to pass through before she does. He doesn't take his wrist from her though, and she continues to lead him through to the back of the house. They pass by her porch and the back door in the kitchen— walking over to the small swing area in the corner of her backyard. It's awkwardly placed in the yard, and she makes a mental note to have either Milo or Frankie rearrange or dig it up.
She lets go of his wrist, and throws herself down on the small covered loveseat swing. She pushes to the right side, and Peter takes the left, slouching in the seat. They sit for a moment, using their legs to quietly move the swing before Peter pauses in confusion.
"If you had to climb out of the window to get out of the house, how are you gonna get back up there?"
Rosalie pauses as well, and shrugs. "I hope you're strong enough to hold me on your shoulders, or if you're charismatic to talk me out of trouble with my mother."
Peter laughs, and shakes his head at her. His smile seems contagious, because Rosalie begins laughing with him.
It's weird. She's sitting on a loveseat swing, after sneaking out and falling off the roof, in the middle of the night, dressed in her pajamas with a sweaty and windswept Peter Kavinsky, laughing.
And she likes it.
Peter and Rosalie can't stop laughing, he leans into her side to stabilize himself— each other's laughter setting the other off. There's no chance of silence between them, the couple making additional jokes and movements that have them grasping their sides and choking out laughs.
It's a long night of laughing and giggling between the two of them, and not planning at all— but that doesn't seem to bother the pair until hours later, when Rosalie starts to shiver from the cold and Peter thinks to check the time.
Rosalie pulls her legs towards her body, wrapping her arms around them and pulling them close to her chest when Peter slides his phone out of the pocket in his sweatpants. He inhales sharply when he catches a glimpse of the time, glancing over at the girl next to him and then at the second story of her house.
"It's almost one in the morning and we haven't even started what I came here to do," Peter complains, shifting on the swing— arm pressed against the side of Rosalie's leg. "and you're taking up all the room with your legs up," Peter groans.
Rosalie huffs, "I'm cold and I didn't get a chance to change! Mr. Impatient," She defends herself, causing Peter to roll his eyes at the nickname.
"How am I impatient? I didn't even say anything!" Peter says, and she shakes her head.
"You didn't have to say anything, I know how you are!"
"How I am? What does that mean?" Peter questions and Rosalie shrugs.
"It means you're impatient," She explains and he rolls his eyes, with a "yeah sure." He dismisses her claim about his personality, and shoves her legs off the loveseat, forcing them to move with the swing.
"Let's just get through this, then I can go home and sleep, and you can go warm up," Peter rambles, rubbing sleepiness from his eyes.
Rosalie sits up from her slouched position, giving her attention to Peter; who seems to no longer be in a joking mood. "Alright. We need a story, one that works for the both of us. When did we get together?"
Peter snaps his fingers immediately, an idea on the tip of his tongue. "Easy, yesterday. And then I asked you out on a date, our first, for this morning."
"The fifteenth of September? We're going to have to remember that if we're ever asked about an anniversary. I don't think we'll be together long enough for one, but just in case." Rosalie pitches in and he shrugs.
"Well it's going to be at least one or two months. Something believable. Plus, Gen always wanted to celebrate the small ones but I always forgot." Peter remembers and Rose wonders if they should be writing this down to remember it all.
"Alright, we got together on a Saturday night— the fifteenth of September. Tell me, what were we doing yesterday? Where were we and why did you ask me out?" She's curious about how far he's thought into this idea, and she wants to know what he wants the story to be.
"Well, late last night you were working in the store after closing and I was with my mom, doing last minute things next door. But there was a loud crash coming from your side of the wall, and so I went to check on you. You were alone in the shop and there were boxes everywhere. You were trying to unbox and set and sort out the new shipments but everything fell. We ended up talking and I forgot to go back to help my mom, and instead spent the night in the store with you— helping you hang and price clothes. Then as we were leaving and you were locking up, I invited you to breakfast this morning, and here we are."
Shit, that's cute as hell.
"I forgot that we shared a building with your mom, but yeah, let's go with that. That's cute, I like it. Put much thought into it?"
"No, it just came to me when I saw the mess in the back at the store."
Never mind.
"Where were you last night? It wouldn't work if you had been with one of your friends." Rosalie tells him and he laughs.
"Talking with Lara Jean." Peter says. "That's when she told me everything and I got the idea." He explains without her having to ask him to.
"Speaking of Lara Jean, she would've said that we should draw up a contract. I think we should, just to set some ground rules."
"A contract? Really, Garcia? That's so..." Peter grimaces, and Rosalie crosses her arms over her chest defensively.
"That's so what? Logical? A great idea? Raven?" She lists, and he elbows her side in annoyance.
"Whatever you want to do, but I don't have any paper on me, and I'm sure you don't either." Peter mentions, and pats around his sweatpants. His hand lands on his thigh, and a small crinkling sound comes from his pocket. Peter slides his hand in, and pulls out a slightly torn receipt— printed from the local coffee shop down the road.
"...Never mind, I do." Peter sheepishly retracts his statement, and then frowns. "But we don't have a pen." Rosalie shakes her head, pulling the blue pen from earlier away from the waistband of her shorts.
"Great, just what we need for a contract..." Peter sarcastically mumbles, and snatches the pen from her grip to write on the backside of the receipt.
"Alright, what do we want on our contract?" Peter inquires, and Rosalie takes both things away from him— scribbling out the first condition.
"—no kissing? I'm not exactly a saint, Garcia. Nobody's going to believe that you're my girlfriend if I don't kiss you." Peter complains, pulling it back to him.
"Well, I get grossed out by all those couples who practically eat each other's face in the hallway! It's called being considerate!"
"We're not going to be making out every second!"
"Still!"
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes!"
"No!"
The two of them bicker, raising their voices over the other's until Rosalie covers his mouth and glances around to see if anyone's heard them.
"Fine! Occasional kissing. One a day, and that's all you get." She concedes, and Peter smiles, triumphant. He writes it down as their first condition.
"A timeframe," Rosalie suddenly mentions, remembering their earlier conversation. "Something believable, put minimum of two months." Peter nods in agreement, listing it below.
"Uh, what things did you do with Gen? While you were dating her?" She questions, tapping her fingers against her bare thigh in boredom, struggling to come up with content.
"The anniversaries!" His ex-girlfriend's name seems to spark something in Peter, referencing another snippet of a different conversation of theirs.
"Oh yeah, you always forgot to celebrate the small ones right? Small anniversaries are cheesy, anyways." Rosalie points out, not seeing what Gen saw in the idea of them.
"But this time I won't forget. We'll celebrate the stupid things, like one month and two and so on." Peter hastily scribbles it onto the paper before he forgets, and Rosalie gladly lets him take control of the whole thing because at least he's coming up with things.
"You'll come to my lacrosse games, and you'll wear my other jersey and everything. Like the other guys' girlfriends. Gen always wanted to, but she's a cheerleader and I never gave her my jersey."
"You can't call me Garcia anymore, Kavinsky. You're gonna have to start being Peter, and I'm going to have to start being Rosalie. It's going to look weird if we only refer to each other by our last names. Write that down."
Peter will call Rose by her first name or a pet name.
"Alright, Rose, what's next?"
"I'll sit with you and your friends at lunch." Rose tries to suggest, only for Peter not to write it.
"Already a given. Don't have to write that down."
Instead, he writes Peter and Rose will keep up appearances.
"Peter and Rose will keep up appearances? What does that mean? Everyone's already going to see us." She's confused and he turns to her.
"Real couples are seen all over town. It's going to be weird if we only see each other during school. We'll go to parties together. And we'll have to keep up appearances with friends. You're going to have to spend time with mine, and I'm going to have to spend time with yours." Peter explains, and Rosalie instantly understands what he's talking about.
"Speaking of friends, put that we'll keep this to ourselves. Even from Lara Jean. Just us." Rosalie demands right after, one of the only things she really cared for.
"Dates." He says right after, placing it right under the last condition. "We barely went on dates. Gen and I were always at school or games or with friends. So we'll go on dates," he says with a smile.
Peter looks angelic here, with a smile on his face and the porch light shining behind him and Rosalie clenches her fist because she's sure if it wasn't for Lara Jean, she would've felt something.
"Dates... okay." She takes a deep breath and exhales, nodding and gestures for him to continue writing things down. "Do you have anything else?"
"Just one, I think. Notes. Gen always wanted me to write her notes, it was stupid. I don't even understand why. I mean texting's great for a reason. I'll write you a note everyday." He says, and Rose could hear the difference in his tone when he talks about the girl— hard and closed off.
Man, she did a number on him.
"Alright."
"Alright."
"So we have our contract," Peter goes to sign the bottom of the page, and he's starting to put the pen to the paper when she stops him.
"Wait! Homecoming! Put homecoming on the list. You have to take me to homecoming, because I refuse to stay home and look like a loser." She insists and he sighs, before writing it down.
"Fine. But if we're going to homecoming, we're going on the ski trip together."
"Fine." She huffs, and he rolls his eyes at her. The both of them lean over the paper, reading it over.
CONTRACT
1.) ONE KISS A DAY.
2.) PETER AND ROSE WILL DATE FOR AT LEAST TWO MONTHS.
3.) ROSE AND PETER WILL CELEBRATE THE SMALL THINGS AND ANNIVERSARIES.
4.) ROSE WILL GO TO PETER'S LACROSSE GAMES AND WEAR HIS JERSEY.
5.) PETER WILL CALL ROSE BY HER FIRST NAME OR A PET NAME. VISE VERSA.
6.) PETER AND ROSE WILL KEEP UP APPEARANCES.
7.) ROSE AND PETER ARE NOT ALLOWED TO TELL ANYBODY, NO EXCEPTIONS.
8.) PETER AND ROSE WILL GO ON DATES.
9.) PETER WILL WRITE ROSE A NOTE A DAY.
10.) PETER AND ROSE WILL ATTEND HOMECOMING & SKI TRIP (IF STILL TOGETHER)
"Ready, Kavinsky?"
"Ready, Garcia."
Peter signs his name at the bottom of the paper, and Rose does the same, taking the pen out of his hand.
Rosalie always thought her first relationship would be with Lara Jean, not Peter Kavinsky— but things change and so do people, and Rose is really starting to hope that Peter Kavinsky can show her that there's more than just Song girls and wild best friends and working at her grandmother's shop to life. She hopes he can show her what reality really looks like.
˗ˏˋ author's noteˎˊ˗
✨ sorry this took so long but break is coming up and i'll have more time to rewrite the chapters. i didn't want to end it here but you all deserved an update. thank you for 10k. let me know what you think 💕