Red light, after red light, after red light.
Lara Jean lives 15 minutes away, and I've been in the car for 30
This should not take THIS long.
I finally exhale as I pull into her driveway. Finally, no more red lights to sit through. I park my Audi, turn off the car, and look at myself in the rear-view mirror. Deep breaths I tell myself over and over. Why am I so sweaty and nervous? It's Lara Jean, for god's sake! Breathe, Peter Kavinsky!
In one swift movement, I haul my ass out of the car, make my way up the steps, and, before I know it, am ringing Lara Jean's doorbell. I can hear it ringing from inside, and I hear people moving around, followed by yelling, and then finally, Lara Jean opening the door. Her pale skin is absolutely covered in flour, and she smells like smoke and chocolate chips and confectioners sugar, which she is also covered in. She's wearing pajamas which are covered by an apron, and her hair is tied up in a top knot. She looked absolutely hysterical.
I start laughing as she gives me a dirty look. "You have flour all over your face!" I say through fits of hysterical laughter. She goes red and proceeds to wipe her face on the bottom of her apron and the back of her hands as she moves out of the doorway to let me in her house. I take off my shoes and lean up against a brown table. "What are you doing here?" She asks
"We're going to the game. Didn't you read my note from yesterday?
"Oh shoot, I had a test and I forgot." Lara Jean replied. Now I'm a little irritated. I told her yesterday on the note on her locker that there was a game today, and she manages to forget within a span of maybe 22 hours. It takes a lot of effort to churn out those notes, and it's a little rude shes disregards them so easily
I frown as she adds, "I can't go anyway because I have to bake seventy-two cupcakes by tomorrow."
"On a Friday night?"
"Well.... yeah."
"Is this for the PTA bake sale?" I add. My mom is baking a dessert for it; I completely forgot about the bake sale.
"Yeah. Is your mom making something too?" She asks. "Rice Krispie treats," I say. She makes them because of there easier to cut and measure. "Sorry, you came over here for nothing." She says, "Maybe we can go to the game next Friday." I know she's expecting me to leave, but I linger for a moment. I'm not in any rush to sit on some cold bleachers for a while. Why be outside, cold and uncomfortable, when I could sit in her warm and vanilla-scented home?
I wander my way into her kitchen, which is exactly as I remember it; very posh, very white, and meticulously organized. The only difference is it was usually immaculately clean, while now there was not an inch that wasn't covered in flour or sugar. There was batter splattered on the walls around a white KitchenAid stand mixer, which was currently whipping the buttercream frosting as the first round of cupcakes cooled on the countertop. I sit on a barstool. "Your house looks the same as I remembered," I say. I spot a photo of Lara Jean and her sister Margot in the bath when they were babies. There's suds in both of their hair, and Lare Jean has a bottle of soap in her hand, and both are smiling infectiously. "Cute," I say.
"When have you ever been to my house?"
"Back in seventh grade. Remember how we'd hang out in your neighbor's treehouse? I had to pee once and you let me used your bathroom. "
"Oh yeah." She says, turning off the KitchenAid and lifting the blade out of the whipped buttercream.
"How long's it going to take?" I ask as she's pulling out another bowl from under the kitchen island to start another batch of cupcakes. She starts measuring out flour. "Hours, probably." She says as she measures one cup of flour. I groan. Everyone who needs to see me and Lara Jean is at this football game right now. We'll be hitting 8 birds with 1 stone. "Why can't we just go to the store and buy some?" I say, half as a joke. I know that's not how it works, but I want to see what shes going to say. She's measuring more flour as she answers.
"Because do you think any of the other moms are buying their cupcakes from Food Loin? How would that make Kitty look?"
"Well, if it's for Kitty, then Kitty should be helping," I say. I go up to the other side of the counter. I decide that the only way to get out of the house with Lara Jean in tow is if I get my hands dirty. I slide my hands around her waist to untie the apron strings on Lara Jean. "Where is the kid?" I say as my hands are still around her waist. I can smell her hair from where I'm standing. It smells fruity. She stares at me. "What... are you doing?"
"I need an apron too if I'm going to help. I'm not trying to get my clothes all messed up."
"We're not going to be done in time for the game." She responds.
"Then we'll just go to the after-party." I retort. "That's what was in the note today! God! Why do I even bother?" I say. Lara Jean looks sheepish. "I was really busy today." She looks down and moves the hair behind her ear, and I feel bad for getting so frustrated with her. She starts to speak again. "I don't know if I can go to a party. I don't know if I'm allowed to be out this late.
"Is your dad home? I'll ask him." I say, looking through the doorway into the living room, and the stairs going to the second floor.
"No, he's at the hospital. Besides I can't just leave Kitty here by herself." I sigh, and now I'm frustrated again. I'm tempted to say to bring the kid along. "What time does he get home?" I ask.
"I don't know. Maybe late. You should just go, I don't want to hold you up." She says. I groan. "Covey, Gen hasn't said a word about us yet, which is kind of the whole point of this. And... she might bring that dickhole she's dating." I say. To be honest, I don't generally care anymore. Apart of me just wants to see Gen jealous, and the other is in it solely to spend the night with Lara Jean. I push out my lower lip a little and beg some more. "Come on, I came through for you with Josh, didn't I?"
"Yes," She starts, "But Peter, I have to make these cupcakes for the bake sale--"
"Then I'll help you, just give me an apron!" I say. She begins rummaging around for another apron. finally, she hands me one with cupcake print. I make a face. "I want the one you're wearing," I say.
"But it's mine! I always bake with this! Just wear that one." She says. I look down at the cupcake print and cringe. "Give me yours, you owe me for not reading any of my notes!" I say. I know I'm pushing it, but I'm having so much fun watching her get annoyed. Finally, she huffs and unties the apron and hands it to me. "You're a bigger baby than Kitty!" She says, throwing it at my chest.
"Just hurry up and give me a task."
"Are you qualified, though? Because I only have exactly enough ingredients for six dozen cupcakes. I don't want to have to start over--"
"I know how to bake!!"
"Ok, then. Dump those sticks of butter into the mixing bowl." She orders. I grab them off the counter and put them in the mixing bowl.
"And then?"
"And then when you're done I'll give you the next task." I roll my eyes but comply.
"So is this what you do on Friday nights?", I begin to ask, "Stay home and bake in your pj's?"
"I do other stuff too."
"Like what?"
"I go out!"
I make a face like, sure you do, I totally believe the totally-not-bullshit you're telling me.
"Where?"
"God, I don't know! Stop interrogating me, Peter." She says as she angrily blows her bangs away from her face. "You made me lose my count on the flour. I'm going to have to start over from scratch!" She yells. I come up close around her and try to grab the measuring cup. "Here, let me do it," I say, trying to grab it from her hands. "No no, I'll do it." We wrestle around for a moment, and, before I realize, we're both covered in flour. "Peter!" She shrieks. I'm laughing so hard I can barely form sentences. "I better still have enough flour!" She yells. I look at her face, she has flour covering her usually red and rosy cheeks and it's all over her hair. "You look like a grandma, I say.
"Well, you look like a grandpa," she says. I catch my reflection in the oven doors, and I see I have flour in my hair and on my clothes and skin. "Actually, you're really a lot like my granny," I say. "You hate cussing, you like to bake, and you sty home at home on Friday nights! Wow, I'm dating my granny. Gross."
She starts measuring again. "I don't stay home every friday night." She says.
"I've never seen you out. You don't go to parties. We used to hang out back in the day. Why'd you stop hanging out?" I ask.
"I don't know, middle school was different." She says. I can tell the situations uncomfortable for her. I figured it had something to do with Gen, but I was never sure. I push it a little bit. "I always wonder why you stopped hanging out with us." As I say it, she slams the measuring cup down on the marble countertop. "Peter! You made me lose my count!"
"I have that effect on women," I say. She rolls her eyes. "Kitty! Get down here!" She yells
I hear the kid yell back "I'm working!"
"Peters here!" She yells. I hear footsteps coming down, which makes me smile. Even if this is all a show, I'm happy Kitty likes me.
"Why are you here?" Kitty asks.
"To help Lara Jean. Why aren't you helping?"
"I was running an experiment. Wanna help me?" Kitty asks. I'm about to shoot her down but then Lara Jean says, "Sure he'll help you." To me, she says, "You're distracting me. Go help Kitty."
"I don't know if you want my help, Katherine. See, I'm really distracting to women. I make them lose their count. " I say, winking at her. Kitty blushes, and Lara Jean makes a gagging sound. "Why don't you stay down here and help us bake?" I offer.
"Bo-ring!" She yells and turns on her heels and up the stairs. "Don't you dare try to sprinkle or frost when it's over!" Lara jean yells. "You haven't earned the right!"
Just as Lara jean is creaming the butter and eggs, the front door opens. "Whose car is that out front?" Mr. Covey asks. He walks into the kitchen, holding Chans Chinese Bistro in hand. "Hello," he says. He looks surprised to see me. "Hey. Daddy." Lara Jean says, casually. "You look tired". I stand up tall. "Hi, Dr. Covey," I say. "Oh, hello." He says, warmly. I relax a little bit. "Nice to see you. You're Peter K, right?"
"Right," I say with a smile.
"One of the old gang.." He says, wistfully. I smile a little brighter. "What are you kids up to tonight?" He says.
"I'm baking cupcakes for Kittys PTA, and Peters helping me." Lara Jean says. My dad nods. "Are you hungry, Peter? I have plenty." He says, lifting the bag. "Shrimp lo mein, Kung pow chicken."
I take a deep breath, "Actually, Lara Jean and I were going to stop by a friends party, if that would be ok? I'll bring her back early." I ask. I'm unsure how Dr. Covey will answer; he didn't seem all that strict, but, at the same time, I wasn't sure if he would exactly allow her to go to a party with booze.
Before he can answer, Lara Jean, interjects, "I told you I have to finish these cupcakes." Dr. Covey shakes his head, "Kitty will finish them, you two go to that birthday party." He says, waving her off and fishing around for an apron.
"It's really Ok, Daddy. I have to be the one to do them; I'm decorating them specially."
"Kitty and I will figure it out. You can go get changed. We'll keep working on these cupcakes." Dr. Covey says. "All right, then." Lara Jean says shakily. I smile at that proclamation and send her off, "You heard the man! We've got this covered!" I say. I see Dr. Covey smile and wave her off, and she takes off her apron and heads upstairs.
"Ok Peter, " He says, and I'm expecting to get grilled. Instead, he says, "How in the world am I going to bake seventy-two cupcakes?" He says, laughing. He dusts off the cookbook sitting on the counter and starts measuring ingredients. "You don't have to stay and watch me fail-actually I'd rather you don't-in case it all goes horribly wrong, I'll need you to plead the fifth." He says with a smile. "Go see what Kittys doing. I think she's creating Frankenstein's monster up there." He waves me off
"Third door on the left!" Dr. Covey yells out. I'm halfway up the stairs when I hear a bang and I contemplate going down to see if he's alright, but then I hear a string of not-quite-curse-words and I feel like he's ok.
I'm walking over to Kitty's room when I see a door cracked open slightly. I peek in and see Lara Jean standing there topless, and quickly look away again. I knock gently.
"Lara Jean?" I say
"Yes?"
"Are you almost ready?"
"Almost! Just-just go downstairs. I'll be down soon."
I wander into Kitty's room, which Is covered in random green gook and mysterious white powder.
"What are you doing?" I ask, slightly concerned.
"I'm running some ver important experiments." She replies. I sit on a spot on the floor that isn't covered in god-knows-what. "Why can't you tell me what they are?"I ask. "They're top secret," She replies. "Experiments for the Government". I nod, slightly concerned.
"Lara Jean, are you almost ready?" I yell out.
"Coming!"