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kitty.
Peter looks at Lara Jean the way guys do in movies, it doesn’t slip Kitty’s notice as she watches Peter sitting next to Lara Jean. There’s the television glowing a dim blue in the corner, the screen playing this incredibly boring thriller they haven’t been paying attention to; and here’s Lara Jean sprawled on the couch, eyes shut, hands tucked beneath her cheek.
Figures Lara Jean would get knocked out cold first. Of course.
Kitty knows more than anyone that good boyfriends aren’t exactly a dime a dozen. Sad, but it’s just the way things are. Your friend tells you she’s met a boy, chances are his manners barely scrape the bottom standard. Either he’s always doing this - blowing you off to hang out with his friends - or doing that: not bothering to put in effort to make whatever you two have going on work.
Kitty would know. She’s heard about it all; some of her friends, they have older siblings who regularly lament this kind of attitude, and go off about how their boyfriends are kind of, well, butt-faces . Butt-faces with the audacity to complain about impossible standards, like it’s so hard to be decent. They’re the types that’ll open a door once for you, then call it a good day.
Initially, Kitty was sort of worried Peter would turn out that way. But only five seconds later into their meeting, Kitty realized that she didn’t have to be. That was the reassuring part.
Now, Kitty eyes Peter as he brushes a lock of stray hair off of Lara Jean’s forehead. Gently drapes a blanket around her shoulders, with that soft, fond expression she’s never seen the full extent of until this moment. It makes Kitty almost want to look away; an intrusion is what this is feeling like, an invasion of something tender and private. Intimate.
Kitty never thought it could actually happen. A boy staring like he has eyes for you and only you.
Kitty smiles.
✳
josh.
Peter Kavinsky is a dick. It’s a sentence Josh would like to believe but doesn’t.
At the beginning, Josh wanted to. So badly. Enough that he actually did, for a time. It didn’t last long, though; eventually he saw more of Kavinsky - the different sides to him, the angles that his frustration had warped into barbs - that Josh started seeing that maybe he was actually a really great guy.
A nice jock-type guy who wouldn’t break Lara Jean’s heart.
They’re outside on the school field when Josh notices Kavinsky and Lara Jean sitting on the bottom step of the bleachers, Josh himself four rows up away. They don’t seem to notice him, unencumbered by white noise, alone together in their own little world.
Josh knows they’re supposed to be pretending. Pretending to be something they aren’t: an item, a couple, whatever. But with the way Kavinsky is watching her, his hand ghosting the length of her shoulder blades, the smile on his face indicative that he is looking at something precious and beautiful, Josh can’t find himself buying into it anymore.
It’s gotten much too serious to remain pretence. Because now there’s genuine emotion involved. A type of longing, wanting, made tangible by its sheer strength.
They’re holding a not-so-serious conversation about zoos and animals, and Josh only hears brief snatches of it. Clipped sentences. Bits and pieces.
But they’re enough for a confirmation.
“Damn, Covey, you think rattlesnakes are kind of cute too?” Kavinsky says with a grin. Then, he lets out a sigh. “Also, keep at it, and I might seriously fall in love with you. For real.”
“Careful, there. I might break your heart,” Lara Jean says with a laugh, and again, Josh knows Kavinsky is supposed to be joking, but it doesn’t really feel like he is, not really.
Josh looks away. Leave it to them to figure it out soon.
What they both truly mean to each other.
✳
gen.
They aren’t going to last, is what Gen first thought when she heard they were together, that Lara Jean and Peter.
It was reasoning born mostly out of spite, admittedly, but not entirely unfounded, in her defence. Prior to her and Peter “breaking up” she’d never seen them together, let alone talk to each other much. Sure, there was the occasional greeting. Sure, there was the occasional nod in the hallway. But apart from that, there wasn’t really anything else.
So Gen assumed this was going to be that type of fling. Here one moment, and gone five seconds later. Eventually it would come apart from the inside, implode to the point of no recovery. Then Lara Jean would come running for the hills, Peter moving in the opposite direction. That would be the end of things.
But months later, when she finds out that they’re still going strong, Gen figures she may have bet on the wrong horse, as much as it irritates her to admit.
And she can’t stand it. Seeing the two of them holding hands as they’re walking down hallways. Seeing Peter’s “heart eyes” trailing after her like some lost, stupid puppy going after its owner. Seeing Peter give her notes he’d once promised to give her, Gen, and not her, Lara Jean.
The worst part is that Peter looks like he’s too far gone over his head to be affected by whatever Gen says to him. He has someone else now, and that someone isn’t her.
Thinking about it is more than just irritating. It’s a thorn in her side.
Gen stiffens her arms where they’re braced tight against her chest and frowns at this: Peter gazing at Lara Jean as she reads a book, his chin propped up on a palm, totally entranced.
Whatever. Good for them.
Gen rolls her eyes.
✳
lara jean.
Lara Jean has pretty eyes. Peter can’t help but notice . And a pretty smile, too. And a nice face in general.
It turns out that sharing the umbrella means they’re a lot closer than expected. There’s actual skin-to-skin contact involved: their fists are stacked one on top of the other where they’re wrapped around the handle. And Peter can see Lara Jean’s features in high detail, up close: delicate mouth, elegantly arched eyes, satiny cheekbones.
Rain is falling all around them, not heavy enough to be a downpour, but not light enough to be a drizzle. So somewhere in between, just the right amount for it to be romantic. If it was the case. Which it isn’t.
“Just our luck to be caught out here, huh, Covey?” Peter says, trying not to look too much at the water droplets caught in her eyelashes, in her hair.
At the ones lining the base of her throat.
“I swear, you did this on purpose,” Lara Jean says, flashing that dimpled smile as she uncurls her fist, letting the water spill through her fingers. “So that we would both suffer together, you sadist.”
Peter raises an eyebrow. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, how was I supposed to know it would end this way?” he says. “If anything, you were the one supposed to check.”
“Sure, blame it on me.” Lara Jean shrugs.
Peter pokes her on the side. That earns him a light shove on the arm. Fair enough.
They stay that way - walking incredibly slow - until there’s a clap of thunder that sounds somewhere in the distance. It’s loud - loud enough to get them to halt in fear of getting like struck down by lightning. Or something.
It isn’t the worst idea, huddling together in the cold, pressed up side-by-side. Apart from the freezing factor, Peter enjoys it, actually. The feel of Lara Jean’s body, warm against his own. As soothing as firelight on a winter day.
And there’s Lara Jean herself, her eyes trained on some point in the distance. She looks kind of out of it. Lost in thought.
This is the part where Peter should maybe look away. Crack a joke. Anything. Something other than this: gazing longingly at the girl you’re fake-dating but also actually in love with. Because it’s just going to make stuff complicated, and that mess is what no one wants when all this is over.
Just as Peter is about to tear his gaze away, Lara Jean’s eyes flit towards him. Almost knowingly. Peter’s breath halts.
It seems that the rain is falling slower, now, each and every of its pitter-patter against the umbrella sounding to the time of Peter’s heartbeats.
“Find something you like, Lara Jean?” Peter teases softly, because his mouth has to go against its filter, that damn traitor.
Lara Jean looks at him carefully for about a minute. Then, spots of pink bloom across her face, eyes blinking like she’s discovered the answer to a complicated equation, and she levels her gaze at the floor. Her mouth is quirked in a small, contemplative smile. Somehow, the effect feels so profound, almost momentous, that Peter finds himself getting tongue-tied.
“I could ask you the same thing,” she murmurs, voice so low he almost misses the words.
Peter bites his bottom lip. “I think you know the answer to that.”
Lara Jean shifts down her hand on the handle. Their fingers overlap.
✳✳✳
lucas james + chris.
There’s a dance, and Lucas James watches Peter teach Lara Jean the steps, her hands on his shoulders. His palms resting on her hips.
“He’s in love with her, isn’t he?” Lucas James says to Chris, as he leans back against the pillar.
It’s more than obvious. It’s there, in the fleeting glances when he thinks Lara Jean doesn’t notice. The light touches on her hands, arms, shoulders. The way he is pressing her against his heart.
“Definitely. And I think ... she’s in love with him, too,” Chris says, smiling, and Lucas James looks again.
Huh.
So Lara Jean is.
Lucas James bumps fists with Chris.