Archive of Our Own

It’s a windy autumn day. The crisp leaves are falling in their seasonal shower of warm colors among the cool cutting bursts of gusting wind. It is the most beautiful time of year, so full of change but also creature comforts like cinnamon flavored everything and apple based pastries.

This season, Lara Jean feels, is when she always feels most alive.

She’s a suburbs girl living in the big city now but something about the autumn season always grounded her to her childhood - even though she is currently in an apartment in a completely different part of the hometown she grew up in.

Her life is different than she ever expected but in some of the best ways. Part of her will always love the house she lived in from infancy through high school but going away to school and moving back afterward was the best choice she could have made. It made her a more mature woman and gave her boundaries - making her a better sister and daughter to her family.

She likes her tiny studio apartment filled to the absolute brim with knick knacks and books and her eclectic mix of new and secondhand furniture. She was absolutely worried out of her mind when she couldn’t get a roommate to chip in for a bigger place at first but something in the opportunity to be her own source of willpower and follow through changed her - she couldn’t imagine trading in for anything; barring a family of her own making.

Friends and loved ones are never too far out of reach, anyway. Her best girl friend from high school, Chris, is a constant in her life as much as she can be: flittering back into town when she can, spending most of her time just chilling in Lara Jean’s place and catching up in big bursts of junk food and laughter. They’re still close after so many life changes, Lara Jean thinks they might just end up in wheelchairs next to each other, grey-haired and giggling until the end.

Her father and his wife are still living in his home in the suburbs, the nest almost truly empty now that her younger sister Katherine is away for her undergraduate studies. But he ventures enough into the city to know her place on sight and when everyone is in town for it, the Song girls keep their promise to have a family dinner at home at least once a week. Margot the eldest sister is usually the determining factor with her own family and house in a different state.

The one that really surprises most people, Lara Jean included, is Peter Kavinsky. A former neighbor and middle school friend who had drifted away during high school, he ended up in the same upperclassmen dorm during her last years of college. Finding him in her life again had been sudden but not at all unwelcome. They weren’t starry eyed freshmen by any means at that point but they knew what it was like to get that subtle homesickness that makes everything a bit more dull and hard to focus on. They spent most of that time together: they kept each other going, made each other work a bit harder, and just got one another in a way that most of their other school friends just couldn’t have.

When Peter moved back home too, a bit closer to his mother but not so far away from the city, Lara Jean let out her own sigh of relief. Reconnecting with Peter in college had been like finding a new way home in a foreign land and she wasn’t about to let it go so easily.

They have standing movie nights at each other’s place: twice a month split between one night at Lara Jean’s with her laptop and one at Peter’s on his “big-ass” flat screen. Lara Jean makes sure to call every once in awhile, just to gauge his voice - a trick she picked up in college - looking for signs of overworking and fatigue. Peter has his own quirks including a habit of randomly dropping by with a small trinket or battered paperback “to fit the Lara Jean aesthetic”. He is, hands down, the best guy in her life - next to her father.

So it comes as bit of a shock to one day be walking to work, admiring the colors of fall and the bite of wind at the tip of her nose, when her phone rings with a local unfamiliar number. At the second immediate call right after the first one goes to voicemail, she picks up. It’s a hospital emergency room calling next point of contact for Peter Kavinsky.

He’s fine by which they mean stable, she finds, after a hell of a 360° turnabout in which she called in her replacement for her shift, called Peter’s mother’s house to leave a message, and even called Owen, Peter’s brother, on his cell just because she can’t imagine not letting him know. She hasn’t let go of her phone on the whole adventure of catching a cab, rushing the ER desk, and getting shown to his bed in the wound management ward. She can’t help but be glad she answered and didn’t wait for someone to leave a voicemail.

He looks small, which is so not Peter. But his head is wrapped, no blood bleeding through, and both the standard hospital sheet and button-on gown swarm his taller than average and leanly muscled frame. Lara Jean tries not to cry as she flashes back to their time in the neighborhood of their early childhood. Leaning out to get down from a friend’s treehouse, Peter had laughed so hard at a joke, he fell backwards down and landed on the ground. Back then, he had been lucky enough to just gotten the wind knocked out of him but the sight of him lying still on the grass had imbedded her consciousness in a negative suppressed memory. She is still standing at the foot of his bed, scrunching her nose and blinking her eyes to will away the image in her head and tears in her eyes.

“Lara Jean?”

His eyes are open and there’s a slight frown on his face.

“Peter Kavinsky,” she starts, letting her voice restart without the tremble in it, “you nearly scared the daylights out of me.”

He sits up a bit, “Are you hurt?”

Lara Jean laughs and walks around to sit on the bed, next to his covered legs.

“You’re asking me that?”

Peter looks down at himself and leans back, “Right. Hospital. Okay.”

Lara Jean puts down her purse and her phone in it on the nearby foldable chair probably meant for her to sit in. She wraps his hand in both of hers.

“Peter, do you remember what happened?”

He doesn’t quite shake his head, like he started to but the pain made it hard to follow through with, and looks her in the eyes.

“Honestly? It’s kind of a blank spot. I was outside and it was morning, and then . . . here.”

She pats his hand, “They said you were stable but they did want someone to come over and take you home.”

It’s only a few minutes more wait before a doctor named Dr. Vaswani comes by to go over everything. She wheels over a stool to sit on and explain the extent of Peter’s injury.

“There was some construction going on in a building and while the crew didn’t appear to be doing anything incorrectly, a wire snapped and a beam went down into the construction zone, pushing the temporary barrier into the street’s sidewalk traffic. Most of the workers were unharmed but the residents in the bleed over were harmed more by the barrier falling over than the actual beam’s path. Mr. Kavinsky received his head injury by knocking his skull open on the nearby streetlight pole. He’s got a couple of stitches and some bruising, which we’ve treated.”

She looks back down at his chart, making a note, before continuing, “There have been no signs of severe trauma to his brain or spinal cord nor any indications of concussion. But, as much as possible, we want Mr. Kavinsky to stay with someone who can monitor his condition for the next 24 hours and get him immediate medical attention should the situation change.”

Dr. Vaswani makes sure to make eye contact with Peter, “You got your bell rung pretty hard, Mr. Kavinsky. But I’m glad to say it looks like you’ll be just fine.”

She rises from her spot and gives Lara Jean a list of things to look out for in terms of symptoms and the papers to have him discharged.

“Did they give you back your stuff?”

Peter, who is leaned his head back on the pillow, motions with his right hand to the side of the bed. Lara Jean searches for it but it isn’t until she’s on the other side, looking underneath the bed’s edge that she finds it. In it she spots his wallet, phone, and - the dirty, bloody shirt he had on that was taken off in the ambulance ride. She doesn’t dump it in his lap as he sits up but her hand does let go of it as quickly as possible, the bright red stains giving her a bit of shock.

“Want me to close the curtain?”

Peter nods without making a sound but for reasons unknown, kind of huffs when Lara Jean steps to the side and closes the pull half curtain in front of her, giving him space and privacy from her and the rest of the room. He throws it back open once he’s changed back into everything. But he does have a weird frown on his face that Lara Jean can’t place.

“Peter, are you feeling alright? Should I get Dr. Vaswani?”

Peter sighs and works on relaxing the tenseness to his eyebrows, barely visible under the bandages.

“No, I’m just . . . tired, Covey,” he spoke with a dryness to his voice.

She’s too short for him to lean on for any real support but she wraps his arm around her own shoulders and her arm around his waist.

“Let’s get you home then.”

Peter asks, halfway down the hall, “My place or yours? For the whole night observation thing.”

Lara Jean thought she had implied his apartment with the word “home” but she shrugs, “It’s up to you, Kavinsky.”

After they’ve filled out all the paperwork at the nurse’s station and gotten the paperwork they’d need for later, they filed downstairs to the drop off zone of the hospital’s entrance to wait for the cab Lara Jean called up.

“Yours.” He decides.

They get back and Peter flops on her antique loveseat with softened purple velvet upholstery. He puts his phone on speaker to call his mom and give her an update. Lara Jean busies herself on the other side of the apartment to try and give him some sense of privacy.

“I’m kinda surprised Owen didn’t rush down there,” he throws out towards the end of the call.

“Honey,” Mrs. Kavinsky’s voice gets a little tight on the other end of the line, “he left for campus last week, remember? He started classes the other day.”

Peter blinks for a few moments before closing his eyes and nodding a small bit, “Right. Man, it’s already September.”

They say their goodbyes and he hangs up, letting the phone drop in his lap.

Something stirs in Lara Jean and she puts the mugs of hot green tea she brewed down on a side table. She sits down next to Peter and gently pulls his face towards her. His expression softens a bit but he gets a bit jumpy when she pulls out a penlight to shine at his eyes.

“What the actual - ”

She cuts him off, “I’m checking your pupils, Peter. Unevenly dilated pupils are a symptom of concussion.”

Peter turned away and tried to resist her turning his head back again.

“Just stop! You can check later.”

Lara Jean tries her very hardest not to let her voice quiver, “There might not be a later, Peter. Not if this is just a short lucid period before the end.”

Peter groans and looks back at her, watching her chin flex with effort to keep from letting out a trembling cry.

“Lara Jean, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think about how this might remind you of . . . everything.”

She doesn’t correct him or command him, she just puts her hand back under his chin and he lets her turn his head and check his pupils one by one and together once.

“They’re perfect.”

Her smile is small and a bit sad but she isn’t any closer to crying.

He leans around her to get the mugs from the table and they clink them together in a toast before sipping them. Peter takes another tentative sip before setting it down again.

“So, what’s the plan, Covey?”

Lara Jean shrugs, “We could watch a movie - it was gonna be my turn to host soon.”

Peter returns a shrug of his own, “Yeah. Didn’t you want to see that newest Netflix romcom?”

Lara Jean pats his leg, “Yup, that’s why we watched it last time we had movie night.”

It hadn’t been something Peter liked in particular so this wasn’t as big as red flag as the other things had been.

Peter, however, rubs at his temples and tries to focus on the memory, “Right. Right. We put it on and . . . I fell asleep during it, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but hey, at least you don’t snore too loudly.”

Peter almost says something else but he doesn’t, clamping his mouth shut. It’s another weird look that she can’t place or understand. Something almost forlorn about his gaze.

Lara Jean pulls herself up from the loveseat and sets down her mug, “Tell you what, I’ll pull up a season of Bob Ross painting and you can just lie back and close your eyes. Let the soothing dulcet tones of the master at work relax you a bit.”

Peter holds up a thumbs up, “Square deal, Covey.”

The pair gets through a couple of hours worth of episodes and take a mini break to get some food and use the bathroom. After the second 3 hour block, they take another break to get more comfortable and start getting ready for bed. As Lara Jean cleans up some things from the side table and floor, her phone rings with her father’s number as the caller. While Peter is occupied in the kitchen area, she ducks into the bathroom to take the call.

“Lara Jean, are you and Peter okay?”

Lara Jean is a little surprised at the urgency of his tone, “Honestly, we’re fine. I wasn’t even there.”

Dr. Covey sighs on the other end of the call, “I know. I just got off the phone with his mother and - ”

Part of Lara Jean knows he must have had the same reaction she had: a little bit of panic and the urgent need to know this time was going to be different.

“I’ve been checking his pupils regularly and he hasn’t been complaining of any telltale aches in his head or neck. He’s tired but not lethargic or too foggy-headed. I’m - I’m watching him closely, trust me.”

He pauses a minute before saying quietly, “You’re doing great, honey.”

Lara Jean looks up at the mirror above the sink, she swipes at the rims of her eyes. Some part of her needed to hear that.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“Tell Peter I said hello.”

She promises and they hang up. On the way out of the bathroom, she ducks into her bedroom area behind a large privacy screen to grab some blankets and a pillow off her bed. She is already setting the several alarms on her phone to wake her to check on Peter through out the night.

Peter is back on the larger couch, laid out and propped up by the fluffier of the throw pillows on it.

“The call go okay?”

Lara Jean hadn’t realized she was overhead. She puts her phone down nearby on a low level recycled material coffee table she has. Peter’s phone is also there and had pinged with notifications several times but he 1. Isn’t supposed to be focusing too hard on small screens and 2. Doesn’t seem too eager to look them over.

“Yeah. Dad says hi.”

Peter nods. Lara Jean drops the pile on the loveseat and grabs one of the bigger blankets to throw over Peter. He tucks himself into it, giving her a double thumbs up when he’s done. She snorts and shakes her head.

“Do you think you’ll want to sleep with a better pillow or is that one okay?”

Peter turns back toward the privacy screen and then back at Lara Jean.

“I thought I might just sleep in the bed?”

Lara Jean winces, “Right, duh. I’ll be the one on the couch tonight.”

“Covey, it’s a decent full size bed. Can hold two whole adult people.”

Lara Jean whips around and looks at Peter’s face. They each have equally puzzled expressions on their faces.

“I’m not going to stay up watching over you all night - I just need to check your pupils and everything every couple of hours. I’ll be fine on the couch, I’ve done it before.”

Peter stops and starts a few sentences before muttering, “Whatever.”

The awkwardness bleeds over, throughout the rest of the evening during a mostly silent late snack and some episodes of sitcom on the laptop before it was actually time to hit the hay.

They take their turns getting ready in the bathroom, Lara Jean changing into a large sleeping shirt and shorts set to sleep in. Peter just strips off his jeans to leave him in the shirt and his boxers. He folds the pair into a small bundle and tosses them at the foot of the bed. Lara Jean waves from where she stands next to the light switch on a nearby wall.

“I’ll wake you in a few, okay? Night, Peter.”

Peter sits up on the bed, “Last chance to make this much simpler.”

Lara Jean switches off the light and zips to the couch. Something about the tone shakes her up.

“Goodnight, Lara Jean.”

The times she goes to check on him, he’s a perfect patient. Even the last few times when even she’s so tired she snoozes the alarm before reminding herself to get up and get on with it. In the morning, they quitely work together to assemble a decent enough breakfast and eat together over the sink.

“I gotta go into work later but do you want me to call someone to stay with you at your place?”

Peter scrunches his nose and combined with the few crumbs at the corner of his mouth, it makes Lara Jean laugh into her toast.

“I could just go with you to work. Belleview wouldn’t mind me tagging along, right?”

Her boss probably wouldn’t mind. And the residents of Belleview definitely wouldn’t shun a new face dropping in. But what was unnerving was Peter’s insistence not to leave Lara Jean’s side. She worries her lip, wondering if she had made him feel insecure about the state of his condition.

“It’s probably fine. But you might want to be ready to leave soon, we have to stop by your place and get you a change of clothes.”

Peter mostly rests again on the couch while Lara Jean quickly gets ready for the day. He sits obediently still while she checks the stitches and removes the bandage wrapped around his head and changes the one covering the stitches. On a whim, while in the bathroom fixing her hair, she throws her shower cap in her purse in case Peter wants a proper shower before work.

“You ready?”

Peter looks up at her standing over him, “Can’t you play hooky? Say you’re under medical obligation to stay on the couch, with me, eating ice cream.”

Lara Jean pretends to mull it over, “That’s really tempting but I think mentioning the ice cream would probably be a big sign I was lying.”

“. . . Granola bars?”

Lara Jean walks around and shoves at Peter’s feet to get him up and off the couch.

“Let’s just see if we can get you to your place and into fresh clothes, first.”

They get an Uber to Peter’s place and have to navigate around some frankly terrifying police tape around the now shutdown construction zone just to get in the building. Peter’s only on the third floor but they take the elevator just to make things easier.

At the door, Peter fumbles around for his keys for a good minute before Lara Jean reaches into his pocket for his key ring and unlocks the door herself.

“You always keep your keys in the same pocket. I could find them in my sleep.”

Peter shakes his head, “A most astute observation, Sherlock.”

Peter’s apartment is hardly larger than Lara Jean’s but the difference was clear. He has actual rooms instead of an open layout. Plus, his minimalist post-modern style means even the cozier spaces feel like they have more room for the people in it. Lara Jean sits on the one outlier - a plush, worn recliner in Peter’s living room and pulls the lever to put her feet up.

“Tick tock, Kavinsky.”

Peter ducks into his bedroom, slightly closing the door behind him. Lara Jean pulls out one of the many various remotes tucked into the funny little armrest pocket and turns on his stereo system, playing some random radio station.

Peter steps back out, on his way to the bathroom, only a towel wrapped around his waist to maintain any modesty. Lara Jean cuts her eyes away from his bare torso back to her phone.

“So, question,” he started.

Lara Jean makes a point of only looking directly into his eyes.

“How do I shower with the whole bandage-covering-stitches thing?”

Lara Jean jumps up, “I am prepared for that!”

She fishes the shower cap out of her purse and holds it up, trying to obfuscate her view.

“What is that?”

Lara Jean lowers it to roll her eyes at Peter, letting the peeved expression cover her face.

“It’s a shower cap - it’s to protect the bandage from getting wet.”

“It’s got frills on it.”

She turns it over in her hands, “That’s just elastic ribbing, Peter. It’s not like I’m trying to get you into a lace bonnet.”

Peter holds out a hand for it, obviously waiting for her to walk over and pass it to him. Two steps into it, Lara Jean loses the nerve and tosses it to him with a quick “hurry up” before swerving back into the chair. He catches it just barely, blinking away a lost expression before half-heartedly trudging into the bathroom.

He steps back out afterward, towel back around his waist and shower cap still around his head. Lara Jean resists the urge to snap a picture, biting the inside of her cheek to stifle a laugh.

“If I see a phone camera pointed my way or hear the shutter click, I’m suing.”

Lara Jean holds up her hands in a gesture of goodwill.

“I’m just waiting on you here.”

He’s still in the doorway, slowly closing the door behind him when Lara Jean looks back up. As soon as she does, he flicks the cap off and throws it at her before slamming the door shut to prevent retaliation.

“Peter Kavinsky, that cap was still soaking wet!”

He emerges again, fully dressed and looking better than he has in the entire time she’s been with him since the hospital. She hopes it bodes well for the rest of the day. He fusses with his hair in a nearby mirror, trying to undo the patches of flattened hair where the wrap and the shower cap has pressed them down.

Lara Jean gets up and taps him on the shoulder.

“Sit down in front of the straight-back chair and I’ll fix it.”

He plops down crossed-legged in front of the chair and Lara Jean sits in it, legs on either side of him. She takes a small boar hair brush from her make-up bag in her purse and runs it slowly through Peter’s locks, letting her other hand run her fingers through after to make the curls look more naturally tousled. Peter’s shoulders begin to droop and she can hear him doing a pretty good impression of a purring cat.

“Feeling better?” she asks.

He squeezes a hand around her ankle, running his thumb along the edge of her ankle bone, “Like a pampered pooch, Covey.”

She puts the brush down and rubs his neck, careful to avoid bruises and the bandage, just trying to ease out some of the tension in his tired muscles.

“Keep going on like that and we’re never leaving this apartment,” he groaned.

There is this rumbling heat to the remark that stops Lara Jean mid-rub. Peter turns his head to try and look at her. She removes her hands and pats his shoulders quick before moving back the chair.

“We have to get going.”

Peter sighs but reluctantly gets to his feet. His hair is better but he still grabs a baseball cap to cover his head as they leave. They take the elevator back down and walk out onto the street.

“What’s the plan - another Uber ride?”

Lara Jean checks the time on her phone, “Actually, how up are you to taking the bus?”

Peter shrugs, “If it’s faster.”

They have to walk a couple of blocks to the right stop for the route they’re taking but it’s not a big inconvenience. Peter hasn’t mentioned being tired again but on instinct, Lara Jean wraps her arm around him as they cross the street and Peter puts his arm back on her shoulder so she figures he’s okay with it.

The bus is early to the stop so they get ample time to pick seats near the middle door and sit with Peter next to the window and Lara Jean right beside him. They make small talk during the ride and it’s so easy going, Lara Jean forgets for a minute why Peter is going with her to work. She motions for him to pull the stop cord when they’re close and they let the other passengers getting off go first before they exit. It’s kind of crowded right at the stop so Lara Jean takes Peter’s hand in hers to lead them down the street toward Belleview. They arrive with about 15 minutes to spare so Lara Jean takes the time to check in with the office and get Peter a visitor’s badge before clocking in.

Lara Jean has some coordination paperwork to deal with so she stays at her desk for the better part of the morning. Peter sits still for all of 20 minutes before taking an offer to help with gathering empty breakfast trays from the residents. He comes back with a smile on his face and a muffin in hand.

“I hope you asked before you took it,” she says without looking up from her work.

Peter places it square in her view on top of the desk.

“You can rest easy knowing they wouldn't let me have one until I took one for you too.”

Lara Jean looked up and smiled demurely, “It's called loyalty. You can build up yours now and in a year and a half, you'll be as beloved as I am.”

Peter shrugs and takes his place back in the chair in the corner. Lara Jean moves the muffin over just slightly and continues writing.

“Not gonna even try it?”

Lara Jean shakes her head, “I'm saving it as an afternoon pick-me-up. Chris texted, said she's in town and wants to grab lunch. Besides bran is always really heavy on my stomach in the morning.”

Peter frowns.

“What, you want me to beg off of lunch with Chris? We agreed on that deli place down the road with the meatball sub you like.”

Peter shakes his head, “No, are you sure it's bran? It tasted sweet to me - like it was raisin oatmeal or something.”

Lara Jean laughs for a moment.

“That means it was bran with prunes - if you've already finished yours, I give you about fifteen seconds before you're bathroom bound.”

Peter groans and hustles out of the room to find the employee bathroom nearby. He’s gone for long enough that Lara Jean contemplates getting up and finding him but a co-worker comes in to pick up something and mentions she saw him talking with the people at the front desk. At a quarter to noon, she goes to round him up. He’s talking with Jake and Sami, the front desk attendees, and they’re all laughing and grinning like they’re out at a bar not sitting in the foyer of a nursing home. Peter has that uplifting charm on people though. She’s almost reluctant to tear him away. When Sami glances her way, Peter does too and waves a quick goodbye before trotting up to her.

“Time for that sandwich?”

Lara Jean nods and they make a quick pass to clock out before setting out down the road. Right before they get to the deli, Peter fishes his hat out of his back pocket and puts it back on.

“You okay, Peter?”

Peter nods.

“I knew most of the residents and staff had seen much worse but I’m sure random people on the street don’t wanna see my battle scar.”

Lara Jean smirks, “You’re calling it a battle scar now?”

Peter puffs out his chest, “It’s a badge of honor. My head fought a metal pole and won.”

Lara Jean cracks up and nearly falls over with the laughter bubbling out of her. It’s the first time in a full day since the accident either of them have been fully relaxed. Peter pulls the door of the deli open and lets Lara Jean go in first. Chris is in line and waves them to join her in front of a very put out woman with a dog in her purse.

“Calm down, lady, we’re just trying to get to the food before Fido sheds all over it.” Chris sneers at her pursed lips expression.

Lara Jean pretends to hug Chris when really, she’s making sure Chris isn’t going to throw down with this woman in a public setting. They each order a sandwich, a bag of chips, and a soda can. Before Lara Jean or Peter can reach their wallets, Chris hands over her card.

“It’s on me, guys. For realsies.”

The deli has a couple of patio tables for customers out in front and they sang one with adequate shade and breeze.

“So,” Chris starts with her mouth full of pastrami & mustard on whole wheat, “how’s the old noggin, Kavinsky? Scrambled or over easy?”

Lara Jean frowns at her, “Chew first. Ask later.”

Chris chews quickly behind her hand and tries again, “How’s the head injury, Peter?”

Peter glances between her and Lara Jean, “How did you hear about that?”

Chris rolls her eyes, “My ‘favorite’ cousin texted me about it. Which, 1. I avoid her whenever we’re both in town so how did she know I’m here and 2. How come she didn’t stalk someone who would have actually been there like Lara Jean.”

Lara Jean crunches a chip, “Because Genevieve and I haven’t spoken since freshman year of high school? But how did she know?”

Chris takes a big swig of her La Croix and shrugs, “I guess she stopped by the store and chatted up your mom, Pete.”

Peter groaned, “I don’t wanna deal with Gen right now. The doctor said avoid things that would put unnecessary pressure on my vulnerable areas.”

Chris makes a scrunched nose face and sets her sandwich down for a second.

“So wait, are you and her on again or off again right now? Because that sentence kinda had a double entendre I don’t think you were aware of.”

Peter snorts a bit and wipes at his mouth with a napkin.

“Gen and I are permanently off.”

Chris is chugging her drink and Lara Jean has a mouthful of chips as Peter throws an arm on the back of Lara Jean’s chair and continues.

“I’ve moving on and I’m focused on my new relationship with Lara Jean Song-Covey.”

Chris jerks her drink away from her face too fast and spills it on her shirt and Lara Jean chokes on her chips, coughing them back up into a napkin and pounding on her chest, wheezing.

“What the actual fuck have I missed around here? Lara Jean?”

Lara Jean stares at Peter, who’s serenely looking at her, like nothing he’s said is out of the ordinary.

“Peter,” Lara Jean shakes her head and waves her hands around in a tizzy, “what do you even mean by that?”

Peter frowns, “What else could I possibly mean by that? Doesn’t Chris know about us?”

Chris is practically bursting with energy, enraptured in the conversation, “Yeah, no, I have heard nothing about this.”

He looks from Lara Jean to Chris and back again.

“We’re dating. Pretty much exclusively. Aren’t we?”

Lara Jean shakes her head.

Peter leans back in his chair, head bowed and brow furrowed. He sits back forward, hands on the table like he’s ready to negotiate this relationship in exchange for the rest of the chips in Lara Jean’s bag.

“You’re my emergency contact. You were practically sobbing at my bedside when I woke up.”

Chris sits up and stares at Lara Jean.

“You’re probably my contact too - we live closer to each other than we do our parents and our siblings are either at school or out of state. It made sense when we agreed to it.

“And I wasn't sobbing - I mean, I was concerned and emotional - perfectly reasonable for the situation.”

He starts listing things off as he keeps count on his fingers.

“We have movie dates fairly often - ”

“ - we are friends who eat junk food and binge Netflix.”

“Yeah, off the same account.”

Lara Jean gapes a little bit. To be honest, registering for another free month trial with a new email and then just splitting the tab on Paypal once it expired seemed like a genius life hack at the time.

“I bring you gifts. All the time.”

Lara Jean closes her eyes and lets her head lull backward, “I. Just. I know it’s something quirky or cute you find on the way to work or somewhere - ”

Peter lets out a loud scoff.

He’s shaking his head, “I made it my mission to find things specifically for you. I spent a week and a half finding that small jewelry box decorated with gems for you to keep your earrings in.”

Lara Jean cocks her head to the side, “You never told me that!”

Not unlike how she never told him how happy it made her. It’s a little hammered tin with velvet lining on the inside. The outer part of the tin is painted with a satin finish blue paint and glued on gemstones that gleam in any light. It should look kitschy but Lara Jean thinks it’s glamourous. She keeps it on her nightstand, right next to her lamp, so she can look at it every night just before turning out the light.

“I mean, jeez, Lara Jean, you’re the one that calls me once a week - at the very least - just to hear me speak.”

Lara Jean is 100% sure she's never actually mentioned the real reason she's calling but maybe she hasn't been as subtle about it as she thought. Chris is on the edge of her seat, eyes comically wide and brows lifted well into her hairline.

“I - I know how that sounds but it’s just because I know how you get - with the running yourself ragged and the trying to be everywhere at once. And I know that I’m usually the one that has to get you to sit down and rest once in a while.”

By the time Lara Jean had finished and looked up, Peter is still sitting back with his arms crossed, unconvinced and Chris has her chin in her hands, trying not to laugh.

“I’m on Peter’s side. I fully believe neither of you had a clue you were already a couple until Kavinsky got his melon smashed.”

Lara Jean is at her wits end, completely at a loss on how to handle the situation. Part of her wants to lie - to deny that she’s ever thought of him in any way but platonic friendship.

Because she has. She’s got the evidence stashed away from prying eyes where only she can ever see it.

Another thought creeps up about just going along with this, however far it goes, pretending they were involved and letting herself love and be loved by Peter Kavinsky for as long as his faulty memory allows.

But that’s just it - he’s healing and taking advantage of this state just to protect her own feelings, either by the lie of omission or indulging a fantasy, is selfish.

So she does what is the only seemingly viable option. She avoids the topic all together.

“Okay, we're done talking about this. We can discuss your memory issues with the doctor when you get your stitches taken out. Let's just eat.”

Peter starts to speak up but Chris covertly catches his eye and shakes her head no.

The trio finishes their lunch without much more conversation. Chris hugs Lara Jean tight and promises not to throw this in her face later. She even gives a side hug to Peter and pats his back.

“Take it easy, Kavinsky.”

The walk back to work is mostly silent. Lara Jean clocks back in and sits back down at her desk. Peter doesn’t sit, meandering on the door’s threshold.

“I’m gonna go visit with some of the residents.”

Lara Jean looks up at him, “You sure?”

He nods and walks away. Work gets done but the office feels a little bit empty and colder.

At about 3, Lara Jean grabs the bran muffin and steps out to make some rounds and, if she’s being honest, find Peter.

Most of the residents are out of the their apartments and mingling in the shared spaces, enjoying the autumn coziness of Belleview’s facilities. She visits with some of her favorites and checks in on everyone she’s been trying to keep an eye on. Lara Jean loves taking the time to get to know the people of Belleview, it’s like getting a glimpse into the past and gives her joy in the same way collecting her treasures to keep at home does.

Peter’s in the rec room, chatting with three older men around a card table while they play a game of five-card poker. She doesn’t immediately go over to him, getting the message of needing space pretty clear. She visits with some of the knitters in the corner and checks out their handiwork. When she looks up halfway through the winding of a very long scarf around her neck to “model” it for everyone, she catches Peter looking at her instead of down at his cards. There’s so much pure, unadulterated adoration in his eyes that she breaks eye contact immediately, focusing on the last bits of yarn trailing down her front.

Eventually, Ms. Valdez takes back the scarf from her. Lara Jean gets up and promises to come back the next day and model some of the other pieces for them. She finally makes her way to the card table, standing to the right of Mr. Li.

Mr. Adler speaks up, “Your fella here was just cleaning us out. Best hands we’ve seen all day.”

“Oh he’s not - ” Lara Jean starts then stumbles over her words when Peter’s eyes shoot up to meet hers, “ - he’s not gonna keep any of it.”

He gives a little fake pout but she hardens her gaze, willing the smile off her face.

Peter lays his cards down and pushes the chips back into the pot, “Well, you heard the lady. I’m out.”

Mr. Fox huffs, “You earned it, don’t just give it all back.”

Peter shrugs, “I’ll cash it in as an I.O.U. later. Duty calls, gentlemen.”

They all nod and wave their farewells and Peter leaves the table to follow Lara Jean back to the office. It’s not quite the end of the shift just yet but she can get some things together for the next work day and straighten up her desk.

“Did you enjoy yourself today?”

All awkward situations aside, Lara Jean wants to make sure Peter isn’t being put out when he could have spent a day resting.

“Of course,” he replies.

Lara Jean wraps up her work day and clocks out for the evening.

“Do you wanna pick something up on our way back or order in once we’re there?”

Peter doesn’t want to answer right away and they make their way out of the building. They trudge along to the bus stop for their return. There isn’t a lot of conversation but it isn’t the same awkward air about it. Lara Jean sits on the bench by the bus stop’s sign and Peter stands behind it, leaning forward against the back of it on his forearms.

“So, are we staying at yours again?”

Lara Jean looks at him but he’s focused down the road, on the lookout for the bus.

“I think it’s best if I just go back to my place alone, Peter.”

Peter scoffs and stands upright, “So it’s like that, huh? Leave me all by myself in an empty apartment, licking my wounds.”

Lara Jean snaps at him, “Peter, please.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

He goes around the bench to sit next to her. He tries to take her hand but she shies away from him.

“I just wanted to laugh about this a little bit. I’m sorry.”

Lara Jean sighs and pats her hand over his, not letting it linger. She tries to put on a comforting smile.

“I’m sorry, too. You know I’m still here for you, right?”

Peter nods and goes back to watching for the bus.

When it arrives, they sit together again, with Peter in the aisle seat and Lara Jean at the window. She looks out it at the streets, watching the transition from one shift to the next, the day slowly slipping into evening.

“Could you cook tonight? Please?”

She looks back at Peter, who’s been watching her, “Sure. Whatever you want.”

They get back to his apartment and shuffle in, dropping their stuff at the doorway. Lara Jean makes her way to the kitchen’s small galley style set up to look at what’s in the fridge and cupboards she can use to make dinner.

“I could make a stew. Got a preference?” she calls out.

Peter pops his head in, “Not really.”

As she continues taking stock, he enters the room and sits on a cleared countertop.

“Actually, do we have the stuff to make those rice balls you do sometimes?”

She checks the cupboards again and nods, “The ones with carrot and onion? Yeah, sure.”

He hops up to help as she starts gathering ingredients and pops back out to throw the stereo back on and put it loud enough so they can hear and still not disturb the neighbors.

Lara Jean’s used to cooking alone and the setup isn’t too spacious where she can’t reach over to check on things but Pete helps anyway and they flow pretty well, weaving around each other and getting them done fast.

Just as a protein on the side, Lara Jean pulls out some pre-cooked bratwurst style sausage from the fridge and slices it and fries it quick in the leftover oil and vinegar. Peter plates, narrating like he’s on a cooking show, and they take it to his dining room in the alcove off the side of the living room area.

While Lara Jean grabs some low tumblers and the bottle of lemonade in the fridge to pour out drinks for them, Peter fiddles with the stereo, finding a pop station making the transition into the nightly slow jams and ballads and turns the volume down a bit. It’s like their usual dorm dinners, from way back when, where they’d cook in the dorm kitchenette and set the mini table up nice to enjoy it for a break from monotony of the dining halls.

Only this time, it’s just her and Peter. No roommates or class friends as company. Not even an excuse of a movie marathon or show season drop to explain why it’s a special occasion.

It feels, for a second, like a date. Lara Jean tampers down the feeling as best she can. This is not the time to stir up feelings.

“You didn’t grab me a beer?”

Lara Jean rolls her eyes, “You’re not allowed to drink alcohol right now. Give it the full 72 hours.”

Peter frowns but still takes a big gulp of the lemonade. He got the lion’s share of the bratwurst and the rice balls but Lara Jean laid out the remainders on a platter in the center of the table in case either of them want more.

The conversation is better than expected. They’re not catching up the way they usually do but they’ve always known how to entertain each other. Being around Peter and having fun has always been easy. It’s comfortable in a way that not much since the accident has been.

At the end, there’s only a few pieces left on the platter.

Peter motions to it, “You want any more?”

Lara Jean shakes her head, her plate is empty and belly full. He picks it up and walks it to the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” she calls out.

He walks back with a small tupperware container.

“In case you wanna take it back with you - you made it, you should get the leftovers.”

He places it on the table in front of her, picking up her plate instead. She stops him; her hand on his wrist.

“I’ll help with the dishes. And you helped with dinner - you have just as much a right to the leftovers as I do.”

She takes the plate and the tupperware. After squaring away the parcel in the fridge, they load the dishes into the sink and start washing - Peter scrubs and Lara Jean dries. They even get through most of the pans and utensils they used to make dinner. The stereo is still going and in the quiet of the kitchen, they can hear it pretty well. It’s playing an older but not quite oldies mainstream pop love song. Lara Jean is humming along under her breath and swaying side to side as she dries the last dish. As she puts down the dish towel on the counter and the dish in the drying rack to put away later, Peter spins her around and starts leading her into a dance that is not a waltz. Or any other style of dance, really.

“What is this?”

Peter shrugs and leads them, almost tango style out into the living room, “I don’t know a whole lot of dancing, so I’m just taking a bit of everything and throwing it together.”

He spins her a few times, sways them back and forth around the furniture and even tries a shallow dip. The song ends and they’re in close proximity, Peter’s hand on her lower back and the other holding her hand close to his chest. His head is bent down towards her and she’s looking up at him.

Lara Jean turns to look at the clock for the time. She pulls away.

“It’s early enough - wanna pull up a movie?”

Peter breezes past her to turn off the stereo. He’s still facing it, not turning around. Lara Jean almost starts to say she can leave if this is too much. But he turns and gives a half-hearted smile.

“Pull up that Netflix, Covey.”

She sits on the wood frame couch and curls into the corner cushions, scrolling through options as Peter grabs something from the kitchen. It seems to take awhile and Lara Jean gets a bit restless.

“Another minute and I’m picking something from the John Hughes collection, Kavinsky.”

He jogs back in, water bottles in his arm.

“Sorry, just trying to stay hydrated.”

He tosses one to her and she takes a drink before setting it down on a side table. He takes a large gulp and set his on the coffee table before crawling onto the couch and laying down, head in Lara Jean’s lap.

Lara Jean laughs a little bit, “Are you gonna be comfortable like that?”

He flicks his eyes up to look at her, “I can see the screen fine from here.”

She nods and goes back to scrolling.

“We both know you wanna pick ‘The Breakfast Club’.”

She stops scrolling.

“I wasn’t going to go straight for it. I was going to have you choose between that and two other equally not your type options. Very strategic.”

He holds out his hand for the remote. She gives it over and he immediately picks it.

It’s a pretty cozy set up. About a third of the way through, Lara Jean realizes she’s been casually playing with Peter’s hair. Her hand freezes mid-twirl. He shifts a little bit.

She asks, “Do you want a pillow?” just as he asks, “What does a guy have to do to get a scalp massage?”

She flicks his ear lightly, “Say please.”

He cranes his neck to look at her and she bites down the urge to tell him to not put so much strain on his injury.

“I let you pick your movie. Please, Lara Jean, please give me a scalp massage.”

She laughs so hard her hand flies down to steady Peter’s shoulder so he isn’t jostled off her lap. She takes another big sip from her water bottle and then starts scratching her nails in small circles along Peter’s hairline. He shivers and resettles in place, like a dog finally getting petted after begging. Which, Lara Jean figures, he almost is.

The movie’s nearly at its climax when Peter speaks up, “Why didn’t we ever go out?”

Lara Jean leans over to look him in the eyes, “Um, excuse me, what?”

He doesn’t stop watching the movie, “We’ve been over what does or doesn’t count as dating between us but, just because I’m feeling like I’m missing something, why don’t we just go all in and see where it goes?”

Lara Jean can’t pivot away without giving Peter at least some reason.

“Well, traditionally, for two people to date, one person has to ask the other out. So.”

She lets the rest of it hang there, hoping it will be enough for Peter to mull over silently.

“I can imagine doing it at least a dozen different ways. Maybe I just never picked the right way. But why haven’t you said anything?”

“Peter,” she starts, “this - this isn’t the right time to talk about this. You literally just admitted you’re not remembering things correctly. I think you just need to take time and heal. Rest.”

He doesn’t say anything else. He isn’t responding anymore to the scalp massage so Lara Jean stops and takes her hands out of his hair.

The movie ends and he gets up off the couch. As he starts making rounds, getting things ready for bed, Lara Jean edges to the door to pick up her things to leave.

“Stay.”

She turns toward him. He’s on the other side of the room, close to the door of his bedroom.

“Stay here for tonight. It’s not too late but,” he shrugs without finishing.

Lara Jean motions to her work clothes, “I didn’t bring anything with me to stay.”

He points his thumb at his room, “I can lend you some shorts and a shirt to sleep in.”

“I’d have to wake up early just to hustle back to my place and get ready to go to work on time.”

He takes one step closer.

“I don’t want to be alone here tonight. So if you go, I’m going with you.”

He means it, she can tell by the set line of his jaw and the look in his eyes. They’re starting to get bags underneath from lack of sleep.

“I’ll stay and sleep on the couch if I can take your car tomorrow. I’ll bring dinner back with me after work.”

Peter doesn’t immediately agree, “Isn’t this part of the street kind of closed up with the police tape?”

“Not the back parking lot where the car is,” she argues, “it even has the other outlet to the alley and I can take that all the way back to where the street isn’t closed off and rejoin the traffic there.”

He nods, “Sounds like a plan, Covey. Let me get you the sheets and stuff.”

Peter grabs a flat sheet and a throw blanket from the hall linen closet and puts it on the couch arm. He pops into his bedroom as Lara Jean sets up the couch for sleeping. He comes back out with a pair of drawstring mesh basketball shorts and a worn yellow ringer t-shirt with the Alder High logo.

“They’re the smallest things I have.”

Lara Jean shrugs, “Most sleep clothes are supposed to be baggy. I’ll make do.”

She heads into the bathroom to change and comes back out to lay on the couch. Peter walks back out of his room, already changed into plaid sleep pants and a shirt from his gym with the sleeves cut off.

“I’m surprised you didn’t set up shop on the recliner.”

Lara Jean starts to get settled in on the couch.

“I don’t wanna hog your favorite chair - you’ve had it forever, even though it doesn’t go with anything else. Must be something special.”

He’s leaning against the frame of his bedroom door, staring at her with amusement sparkling in his eyes.

“What?” she asks.

“It’s not my favorite chair. I’ve kept it for so long because you like it and you always sit in every time you’re over.”

She looks at the recliner - its outer shell is a threadbare, pilled woven fabric that looks like tweed but feels like a comfy sweater, the padding has been squished and refluffed into the perfect balance of grooved and plush, and the mechanic to lay back is as well-oiled and sturdy as anything.

It’s a home away from home.

Lara Jean gets back up and moves the sheet and blanket to the recliner. She nests herself in it and tips it back.

“Goodnight, Peter.”

He turns off the nearby lamp and goes to his bedroom, “Goodnight, Lara Jean.”

In the morning, Lara Jean wakes up with a smile on her face. She turns her head to the kitchen, hearing the clatter of cooking. She gets up and walks over to peek in. Peter is hunched over the stove, cooking up eggs and bacon. He’s still in his sleepwear, unchanged from the night before, save for the massive cowlick on the back of his head, sticking straight up in the air.

“Need help?” she pipes up.

Peter turns and faces her, “Nope, got it covered, Covey.”

Just as he finishes speaking, the bacon in the pan pops its grease, splattering him.

“Clearly.”

He still waves her off to sit at the table while he warily pokes at the slices in the pan. She doesn’t have to wait long, he comes out with two plates and sets them down quickly before jogging back into the kitchen. She checks the eggs and bacon - they seem perfectly fine even if Peter isn’t quite the cook Lara Jean is. She resolves to wait for him before digging in. He comes back out with two glasses and pours out a cup of orange juice for her and one for himself.

He sits down and they start eating. The eggs are a bit runny for Lara Jean’s taste but the bacon is crisp and crunches satisfyingly in her teeth.

“Good, right?”

She nods and smiles wide at him, letting her nose scrunch and eyes crinkle.

Peter raises his glass in the air and they faux clink them in the air as a toast.

Lara Jean keeps an eye on the time but doesn’t rush through eating. It’s too rare an opportunity to squander. When they’re done, she picks up the plates and motions for Peter to stay put.

“You cooked, I’ll clean up.”

She gives the plates and glasses a good wash and rinse, leaving them in the drying rack to drip dry.

Peter is sitting on the couch, upright but head lolled back like he’s ready to go back to bed. Lara Jean grabs her clothes and taps him on the arm.

“I’m gonna change real quick and then I’m off - you need anything before I go?”

He shakes his head no and then adds, “Bring me back one of those prune bran muffins, if they have them again.”

She rolls her eyes and goes to the bathroom to change. There’s a laundry basket in there so she puts the borrowed clothes in there before she steps out.

She walks over to Peter and checks the bandage on the back of his head.

“I think we can take the bandage off the stitches once you shower.”

Peter nods and grabs a towel to hop in for a quick wash. Lara Jean gets the same shower cap out of her bag and tosses it to him on his way into the bathroom. She gathers her things together and waits on the sofa for him to get back out. He steps out in the same clothes, towel around his neck. She motions for him to sit next to her on the couch and he sits with his back to her so she can reach the bandage.

It comes off fairly easily in one rip and the wound underneath doesn’t look angry or swollen. They had given him some antibiotic cream to put over once the bandage came off so she applies a bit with the sterile cotton swab it came with.

“Be careful with it. Use a hand mirror to check it out if it starts giving you pain. And even if you can get it wet, don’t try and wash that area of your head just yet, okay?”

Peter holds up a thumbs up, “Yes, Dr. Covey.”

Lara Jean snorts, “My dad would argue that his years of experience totally trumps my skimming of the paperwork they gave you but I’ll take the title upgrade any day.”

She pats his shoulder to let him know he can sit back into the couch. He settles in and watches Lara Jean get ready to head out. Right before he can get up and get her the keys to the car out of his little dish tray, she finds them herself and jingles them in the air like a trophy.

“Stay safe, Lara Jean.”

Lara Jean slings her purse over her shoulder, “Back at you, Kavinsky.”

She gives a two finger salute and shuffles out the door.

Work is different. Lara Jean gets a lot more done than she usually does on a Friday. But a few times she catches herself rushing - like she’s trying to make each second pass faster. She makes time to visit the rec room again. The knitters group welcomes back their impromptu model but more than anything she finds herself being approached by residents - all of them asking about her “man” Peter and urging her to bring him around again. She smiles, nods, and doesn’t dismiss the idea. They could always use fresh blood at Belleview and Peter wouldn’t begrudge her for a request to volunteer here and there to keep up morale.

She thinks about calling or texting him to get an opinion on dinner but part of her wants to surprise him, get their usual haul of family size order pad thai, and let him pick whatever sports or reality show he wants to put on.

Lara Jean walks back into the building with a skip in her step, even with her arms loaded to capacity. Closing in on Peter’s door, she hears commotion. It’s not the TV or radio cranked too loud and there’s two distinct voices, so not a phone call. She stops just short of the door. Trying to listen stops her from getting out the keys or knocking.

The door swings open as Peter demands, “Just leave right now.”

Lara Jean freezes on sight. He’s looking at her with apology written on his face. Genevieve, in all her poised glory, walks out and past Lara Jean without stopping.

Lara Jean walks up to Peter who takes the bag from her, “So, Gen was here.”

Peter starts growling, “Oh was she ever here and loud and fucking persistent.”

Lara Jean doesn’t move, just raises an eyebrow. Cussing isn’t the unforgivable sin it once was to her but she knows that he knows that she doesn’t like insulting people, even Gen, with curse words.

“Sorry, just. Obstinately persistent.”

She puts her stuff down while Peter unloads the food.

“Pad Thai, perfect. Love it, Covey.”

Lara Jean ignores the weird way her heart lurched during that phrase. She goes back to the question on her mind.

“Why was Gen here?”

Peter sits down at the table, fatigue crossing his features, abandoning the task at hand to put his chin in his hand.

“She says we were still together. Before the accident.”

Lara Jean blinks, a bit stunned, “Were you?”

He shrugs.

“I don’t know. I mean. I think I know. I’m vaguely remembering how we went from a break to broken up. I mean, I don’t even remember talking to her in the last month and a half.”

She nods and sits at the table, finishing up setting out the food for the two of them.

“Did you tell her that?”

“Sort of,” he replies, not looking up, “I may have said other words.”

“What other words?”

Peter starts picking at the food.

“It may have been ‘Why would I still be with you when I could be with Lara Jean?’”

“Peter,” she starts, “you can’t just keep saying things like that!”

He holds his hands out in a placating gesture, “I didn’t say I am with you, I just implied I want to be! Which is true, even if we’re not talking about it.”

Lara Jean shook it off, “We’re definitely not talking about it right now. Okay? But, because it seems like something that certainly started a loud discussion, what did she say in reply?”

Peter loses some of the amused twinkle that had sparkled in his eyes, “She got a little huffy - saying it was just you putting ideas in my head. Said it was a plan to break her and I up.”

Lara Jean wrinkles her nose, “I’m never going to do anything like that. I’m not here to do anything to change your memories.”

Peter nods. He shakes his head as if to will the thought away from himself.

“It got me riled up, so I started confronting her about all those things she’s always been rude about - other girls, other friends. And how . . .”

Lara Jean waits. She doesn’t want to prod but there seems to be more to the story.

“What else?”

“How it always seemed like she didn’t like you in particular - not when you guys were friends, of course, but after. In high school it wasn’t so obvious because of how we all drifted apart but at college, it’s like she was always angry about you being there.”

Lara Jean frowns. She pats Peter’s arm, “Did she give you a reason for it?”

Peter looks at Lara Jean, meeting her eyes with a closed off expression, like he holding his emotions in check as he speaks, “She said she was hurt. That she lashed out because she knew, deep down, that you and I were messing around behind her back.”

Lara Jean pulls back her hand, recoiling like she’s been slapped across the face.

“I could never do that. You would never -” Lara Jean stops herself before she starts ranting and raving.

Peter looks down at the food, not saying anything more and letting his jaw tighten.

“Peter, you never did anything like that. You were this picture perfect boyfriend when you and Gen were together - long distance and all. Never let anyone think you were single when you weren’t. You certainly didn’t do anything with me either.”

“But I could have.”

It’s guilty and low and spoken all at once. Lara Jean doesn’t know how to respond.

“I’m not saying we did - even right now, I’d remember if we did. I just. I got this panicked feeling in my chest. Like. Like I was finally becoming just like my father.”

Lara Jean shakes her head, “This is nothing like your parents, Peter. They were married and had kids.”

Peter is scrubbing at his face with his hands. His eyes dart around the room, racing like his thoughts.

“I’m gonna say one last thing and then we’re gonna eat before this food gets cold. If you don’t wanna be with Genevieve, tell her that. Get everything very clear and move on. Neither of you need to keep going back and forth, never getting anywhere.”

Lara Jean puts her hand over Peter’s and squeezes it for emphasis. His thumb strokes slowly over her knuckles. She should pull away first but Peter does and they begin their dinner. The conversation lulls and it doesn’t feel right trying to fill the void with the stereo or tv.

Neither one of them feels up to watching anything afterward so Lara Jean drops off the keys and plans to leave early.

“Are you going to be okay staying alone tonight?”

Peter nods and motions to the dish tray, “Yeah. You sure you don’t wanna take the car tonight and return it in the morning?”

Lara Jean shakes her head, “I’ll be alright.”

Before she can psych herself out of it, she turns and hugs Peter. He rests his chin on the top of her head and her nose is buried deep in his chest. It feels like a goodbye.

“Call me when you get home so I know you’re safe.”

Lara Jean pulls out of the hug and nods, “I’ll text you when I’m in the building.”

Peter tugs at her hand, fingertips brushing the edge of her palm, “Call me.”

She meets his eyes and confirms it with a more sure nod.

It’s not too late or too far out so Lara Jean walks the way to a closeby bus stop instead of hailing a cab or ordering an Uber. The ride is quiet and free of turbulence, letting Lara Jean’s mind wander as she stares out the window.

She’s halfway up the stairwell to the third floor where her apartment is when she realizes she could have taken the elevator. It doesn’t matter, she continues taking her time on each step.

With the click of the door behind her, she dials Peter.

“Hey.”

She greets him, “Hey Peter, I’m home. Get some rest.”

She waits for the “Good night, Lara Jean” that she’s gotten used to hearing but he just says, “Night, Covey.”

“Goodnight, Kavinsky.”

The line clicks and Lara Jean lets her phone drop onto a nearby accent table.

It’s early enough where Lara Jean doesn’t feel like going to sleep just yet but she makes quick work of getting into some comfy pajamas and settling with one of the blankets still left on the loveseat.

All of it smells like Peter. She can’t focus, can’t forget, so she does the one thing that might just stop her racing mind. She digs out a teal hatbox from the depths of her treasure trunk. It’s got five letters, all addressed. There’s one for every boy she’s ever loved. Each one it's own time capsule for her feelings at that moment for that person, taking it all in and filing it away for the archives. This night, she takes out Peter’s and adds a new letter, for this time around.

On clean, lightweight paper, she uses her favorite pen and writes:

Dear Peter,

Right now, you’re a disaster and I am the relief.

Something in your head is hurt and it’s making you do and say things that just don’t make sense.

I want to ignore it, to let it pass, be a wall of impassivity while your brain rewires the right way again. Because if any of it were true, well, I’d be the first to cry and jump for joy.

You say you have feelings for me. That they’ve been there for a while and you think they’ve been so obvious. You think we’re meant to be. We, being an us, are inevitable.

I’m sitting here waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Because I’ve loved you since 7th grade. From that very first kiss. And in some ways, even after you got together with Gen and I wrote a letter like this purging myself of all feelings for you, I still do. It’s like I always have. I think I always will.

But this sudden change in the way you feel - the way you casually talk about forever - is new. It’s from the accident. I’m sure of it. Because if you ever loved me, if you ever cared, you wouldn’t have kept me in this spot just outside your reach for so long. You couldn’t be that cruel, that heartless. Could you? All these new revelations and it’s like I don’t know you anymore.

It scares me to think about us. Not like the way I’ve always been scared of love - I’ve always know the fantasy was better than reality - but more like the way I always used to stay so still when I was home alone and everyone else was out. It’s the urge to wrap myself in something safe and reliable and hold my breath until everything is back to normal again.

I couldn’t lose you too. I’ve grown too used to you in my life - in my heart. It’s not even all those silly things we do that you rattled off during lunch with Chris. It’s who you became when we found each other in college again. We went from the kind of childhood friends that only really exist in middle school to actual adults who depend and rely on one another. That was when I knew what was between us was deeper than 12 year old me could ever fathom - it’s the love of trusting someone with every part of me: for better or worse, in sickness and in health, and every other vow I could make. If middle school was my innoculation against the virus of your charm, this is its resurgence in a new form that cannot be cured or abated, only lived with for the rest of my days.

And if I’m right, if all of this is because you don’t remember, I wouldn’t be able to take anything back. We would never be the same. You’d see it in my eyes, feel it every time we’d touch, hear it in my voice.

So I let this go. I promise won’t ever lie to you. But some truths cannot be spoken. This is one.

Goodbye my love,
Lara Jean Song-Covey.

She gives it a new envelope and writes Peter’s current address on it, but does not seal it. These letters don’t need to be. She simply tucks it in with the older letter and puts everything back in the hatbox. It’s finally late when she’s done so she leaves everything strewn about and crawls into bed. When she reaches over to switch off the lamp, the jewelry box is still there, gleaming in the light. She looks away as she clicks the lamp, letting the darkness take over her vision.

The next morning, Lara Jean wakes to a pounding knock on her door. She shuffles to it, checking the peephole before opening the door.

Her sister Katherine, mostly still known as Kitty, was standing at her doorstep with a large green tote bag on her shoulder.

“Lara Jean, what is going on around here?”

Lara Jean, half asleep, shrugs and steps aside to let Kitty in.

Before she can ask, Kitty holds up her hand to pause Lara Jean’s question and digs out a tablet. After turning it on and starting a call, their sister Margot is present virtually for the conversation.

“Okay, I officially call this meeting of the Song girls to order.”

Margot rolls her eyes but lets Kitty continue.

“We're here today to discuss the issue of Lara Jean Song-Covey v. Peter Kavinsky in the matter of their relationship and/or lack thereof.”

Lara Jean stares at her sister, “You do realize you're only pre-law right now, right?”

Margot steams past that, “What we’re truly here to discuss is this apparent “will they or won't they” issue you have with Peter.”

Kitty huffs, “That is literally what I said.”

Margot adds, “In the worst way possible.”

Lara Jean starts pacing her way around the apartment, shying away from the discussion.

“I don't know what you've heard or from whom but Peter and I are fine. He has a head injury from an accident earlier in the week and I've been helping him out since then. That's all.”

Kitty points an accusing finger at Lara Jean, stopping her mid-step, “Crime number one: failing to inform me of Peter related news.”

Lara Jean rolls her eyes, “Sorry I was focused on informing his family of his condition, Katherine.”

Kitty yells out, “I am his family! Just as much as you are!”

Before Lara Jean can shout back, Margot gets out a toy whistle and blows a shrill screech next to her mic.

“The court case joke is wearing thin, just move on, Kitty.”

“Where did you even get that?” Lara Jean asks.

Margot rolls her eyes, “It had to have come in some goody bag from a daycare kid’s birthday party but we’ve been to three different ones in the last two weeks so I’ve just made it my mission to never attend one ever again.”

Kitty shakes her head and returns to her point.

“The weird part was hearing from Chris that Peter is saying you guys are couple now? And she thinks he might be right about that? When were you going to say something?”

Lara Jean sinks into one of her plush chairs, “I wasn't.”

Kitty and Margot share a look over the video call.

“I wasn't going to say anything because it isn't true. Peter is confused right now and he said something while we had lunch with Chris. We are not dating.”

Margot gets that focused look in her eye, “Confused? Was he concussed?”

Lara Jean shakes her head, “The doctors didn't think he was and he hasn't had any majors symptoms since. He just . . . forgot we weren't a couple.”

Kitty holds back laughter, “A likely story. Temporary insanity on Peter’s part.”

Lara Jean glares at her, “It’s not insane, just misinformed.”

Margot waves her hand in front of the camera to get Lara Jean’s attention, “You’ve corrected him, yes? Peter knows you two aren’t dating.”

Lara Jean tilts her head back and forth, mulling over the question.

“He knows. He definitely knows. But . . .”

Kitty pounces, “There’s a “but”, is there?”

“Whatever Peter thinks, or thinks he wants, he is compromised right now. Doing or saying anything to influence him is just. Well, it’s seedy. Gen was already trying to convince him they were dating at the time he got hurt.”

Margot and Kitty both start talking over each other about it and eventually Margot gets the whistle back out and blows it until Kitty stops.

“So was Peter actually dating Gen at that point?”

Lara Jean shakes her head, “He remembers they were broken up - not a break but broken up - and told her as much.”

Kitty narrows in, “What exactly did he say?”

“He told her he wouldn’t be with her if he could be with me. She, in turn, said I was the one putting that idea in his head. Then he started asking why she was always jealous of me being around Peter and . . .”

Both sisters motion for her to continue, “And?!”

Lara Jean lets out a big sigh.

“Gen said it was only because she knew we were sneaking around behind her back.”

Kitty is incensed, handing Lara Jean the tablet, “Hold Margot, I’m gonna go curb stomp her face.”

Lara Jean pulls her back the arm and sits them both on the loveseat.

“Hey, we’re not curb stomping anyone. She probably said it to make Peter feel guilty. He was pretty upset by it - he said he was worried about being just like his father.”

“Poor Petey,” Kitty muses.

Margot, still listening in from the abandoned tablet, speak up, “Lara Jean, Peter is making it known he has feelings for you, however he came to realize them, but do you have similar feelings for him?”

Lara Jean holds her breath and lets it out in a big sigh.

“No. I don't.”

Lying to her sisters is the worst but she can't have them trying to get them together.

“Bullshit.”

“Kitty!” Lara Jean exclaims.

Kitty shoots up from the love seat and sprints to Lara Jean’s trunk, searching.

“It's usually right here, where did you move it?”

Lara Jean rushes over, leaving Margot shouting over the video call.

“Move what? What are you looking for?”

Kitty swerves around her, searching Lara Jean’s desk and the surrounding area. She lets out a triumphant “A-ha” and holds out the hatbox that Lara Jean had left out.

Lara Jean lunges for it but Kitty skitters back to the table where the tablet is and pulls out the letters.

“I've always known about these love letters, Lara Jean. What kind of little sister would I be if I didn't snoop through your things?”

Lara Jean pounces on Kitty but doesn't want to damage the letters. Kitty holds up the newest one.

“But this one isn't what I've read before - it's also to Peter. But with his new address.”

Lara Jean sits, defeated, on the floor. Kitty readjusts the tablet so Margot can see the envelope she's holding.

“I wrote it last night.”

“Why?” Margot asks.

Lara Jean motions to it, “Go ahead and read it, Kitty. You already read the others.”

Kitty takes it out and skims it. Then reads it fully. She doesn't hold it up to the camera, just shakes her head at Margot and puts it back in the envelope.

“Why didn't you tell us, though?”

Lara Jean pulls the blanket off the love seat and wraps herself in it, nose still searching for those last wisps of scent left on it.

“Because it's not your problem to deal with, it's mine. And you two would be doing this intervention style thing just to try and fix it. But you can't.”

There’s a long, drawn out pause before Kitty and tablet slide down to the floor next to Lara Jean. Next thing she knows, Lara Jean is wrapped up in the sister hug she’s been missing - well, half of it.

“So here’s a plan,” Kitty grabs the tote she brought with her, “I’ve got a handful of our favorite Korean face masks, let’s get prettied up and order a pizza - whatever you want.”

“This early?” Lara Jean asks.

“Lara Jean, it’s noon.”

Lara Jean searches out the time on a nearby clock and shakes her head, “I really slept in late.”

Kitty pats her head, “Unrequited pining will do that. You know what fixes that? Wine and spirits to lift your spirits!”

Margot hops in the conversation, “I don’t think getting drunk is the answer here, Kitty. You’re not even of drinking age - ”

Kitty starts shaking the tablet, “Oh no, Margot, you’re cutting out. See ya later, byeeee.”

She hangs up and turns the tablet off.

“Okay, now what do you want on the pizza?”

Lara Jean admonishes her, “Kitty, that was kind of rude.”

“Big deal, she’ll leave me like 50 minutes of her lecturing on my voicemail. I’ll call her back and let her yell at me in real time when I get back.”

Lara Jean purses her lips, “I’m still not drinking with you. But I’ll order that pizza.”

After the delivery guy drops off a large Hawaiian, the sisters are lying about with masks on their faces.

“Question - why didn’t you ever say anything to him before all this?”

Lara Jean shrugs as much as she can without letting the paper mask slide off her face, “I just made my peace with the idea that nothing was going to come of it. Or at least I thought I had. Part of me, the romantic, wants to believe so bad that this is it - this is how it all comes together and we get that happily ever after and ride off into the sunset.”

Kitty pokes at her leg with her foot, “And the other part?”

“The other part of me that has been through high school, college, and gotten me to this point in my life knows nothing is for certain. Situations and circumstances can change on a whim and it’s scary. It literally never stops being scary. It’s not even about being afraid of change, it’s about whether I’m sure I could stand risking everything I already have with him for the chance at being something else. At this point, I just want to keep Peter in my life as is, just as he is.”

They peel off the masks and pat the remaining moisture into their faces. Lara Jean thinks she imagines seeing Kitty swiping a few stray tears from her eyes.

“Okay, pizza time.”

They each serve themselves a slice, Kitty picking up all the stray pineapple pieces that fall off them and eating them.

“Hey, I’m the one who picked this pizza - I should get a fair shot at the pineapple.”

Kitty sticks her tongue out at Lara Jean and stuffs her mouth full with the pizza slice. It then becomes a race between siblings to eat the fallen fruit before each other. They finish the pie in record time and move on to Kitty doing an intricate braid in Lara Jean’s hair. Lara Jean insists on holding up a hand mirror to watch the progress from all angles and Kitty makes faces in the reflection just to make her chuckle.

Kitty’s cell phone starts ringing and she rolls her eyes assuming it’s Margot. Looking at the number, her face drops. She answers the call and puts it on speaker.

“Hello, Peter Kavinsky.”

Peter’s tired voice comes over the speaker, “Hey, Kit Kat. You in town this weekend?”

Kitty meets eyes with Lara Jean, who motions that she doesn’t want to speak on the call and Kitty shouldn’t mention her.

“Yeah, I am. What’s up?”

There’s some shuffling over the line before Peter comes back on.

“Not much - just looking for someone to take down some hot wings with me later.”

“Just the two of us?” she asks.

Peter confirms, “Yeah. It’s been a while, right?”

Kitty nods then verbalizes it, “Okay. I’ll um, be there in an hour.”

They say goodbye and hang up. Kitty looks at Lara Jean, who has absently started to gather the remnants of the binge fest into her arms to dispose of it.

“Are you okay?”

Lara Jean nods, “Yeah.”

Kitty stands up, “I’ll help clean up.”

“No, Kitty, you can get going - I can handle it on my own.”

Kitty pulls Lara Jean back by the arm, “I said I’d be there in an hour. I’ve got time.”

Lara Jean smiles at her little sister. Between the two of them, they get the living room area and her bed area squared away - Kitty even getting the hatbox and everything else back into the trunk.

Kitty loads up her tote bag and squares everything away in it.

“Okay, I’ll probably call you later. Depends on how late I stay.”

Lara Jean adjusts the handles of the bag as it rests on Kitty’s shoulder, the big sister instinct taking over, “Even if it’s late, at least text me when you’re back on campus.”

Kitty gives her that same two finger salute that Lara Jean had done a day earlier, with a cheeky grin and Lara Jean sees her little sister all grown up for a flash.

They share a quick hug and then Kitty is out the door. Seeing no sense in wasting any more of her day, Lara Jean begins a load of laundry and starts cleaning.

Over the rest of the weekend, she and Peter text a few times to check in. Her finger consistently finds itself hovering over the call button but she doesn’t want to fuel whatever fire is being stirred up in her heart. She piles the freshly laundered blankets on top of her trunk to keep her from drowning in the melancholy of the letters and the other Peter-given gifts she’s got socked away in there.

By the time Monday morning rolls around, they’re both back at work and everything feels back in line with the status quo.

The night before Peter’s stitches need to be removed, she texts him, “Need a ride?”

It would be Lara Jean driving him to and from the appointment in the car but it’s a courtesy meant to soothe any lingering worries he may have.

“Thanks but Charlie from work is willing to take me. Call after?”

Lara Jean is a bit surprised but figures it might be for the best. She texts him back a brief “sure” before adding in a quick smiley face emoji to make sure her tone doesn’t seem curt.

She keeps her head in the game and loses herself in her work for the day. Peter said he would call after so she doesn’t dwell on the relative silence of the day.

Right before she can start cooking, her phone pings with a text notification. She pulls it up.

“Tired. Can you bring over food? I’ll pay you back.”

Lara Jean replies with a quick “sure, sure” and turns back around to the fridge. There’s still some frozen cookie dough in the freezer and it sounds like he could use a treat.

She’s hauling a big bag of Korean takeout and the bag with the defrosting dough when she stops outside the door. It’s another argument bleeding through the walls and Lara Jean wonders if this is what it’s going to be like for the next few weeks until Gen or Peter calls it quits again.

She remembers then that Peter is still actively recovering and how much he was dreading this sort of drama and she pushes forward, forgoing knocking and just walking in. She’s grateful the door is unlocked from Peter letting Gen in.

Peter notices her first, swerving around from the faceoff with Gen, “Covey, thank god.”

He tries to help her with the bags when she steps aside, “I got it. I’ll be setting up the food in the kitchen while you two finish up here - I brought some cookie dough to throw in the oven during dinner. Oh and Gen,”

Genevieve blinks in surprise before finally acknowledging her presence.

“If you can find it in you to be civil, there should be enough for you to stay and eat.”

It’s the most mature and poignant conversation she’s had with Gen, miles away from the childish way they butted heads the few times they spoke after their friendship disintegrated post-middle school. Lara Jean has given up on appeasing her and she’s done accepting Gen’s tantrum like moods for the sake of the room.

Gen scoffs at her, “It’s Peter’s apartment and news flash, you’re not his mother or his lover - despite whatever mind games you’ve been playing with him.”

Lara Jean nods, “You’re right.”

She looks to Peter. If he compromises for Gen’s sake, Lara Jean will know where she stands in this new dynamic. Peter moves to stand behind Lara Jean, literally, and face Gen.

“We’re going to finish this talk, Gen, and then you have to leave.”

Lara Jean starts toward the kitchen as Gen paces away from Peter. She just catches a glimpse of Gen pulling something out of her purse - a plaid button up shirt.

She does actually start getting the food ready and the cookies started but she listens intently through the shut door.

“This is your shirt - it was at my place. It still smells like you. Answer me how that’s possible if we weren’t together.”

Lara Jean almosts bursts back through the door herself to refute Gen. That shirt was in the backseat of Peter’s car this entire time. Lara Jean saw it when she borrow the car the other day and forgot to bring it in for him when she returned it.

Peter contradicts Gen directly, “I would never leave it at your place, Gen.”

Gen lets out a loud laugh, “It’s a shirt, Peter, not your underwear. You leave stuff at my place all the time - I love that you’re so comfortable there.”

There’s this pause that Lara Jean can’t stand. She doesn’t dare peek, to save herself the ache of seeing Gen pressed close to him.

“No, I mean I’d never leave that shirt behind. Lara Jean got it for me and I don’t just wear it anywhere.”

Suddenly, the memory hits Lara Jean. She was out in North Carolina with the other Song girls - one of the last family weekends during college - and they were hitting the highlights of the city beyond campus. One of Lara Jean’s favorites was saved for last: a consignment shop that she loved finding previously owned treasures in. They were having a blast just looking over clothes and making their own ensembles in the aisles. Kitty had found some tailored menswear that could work for her, Margot had called dibs on a pair of retro sunglasses, and Lara Jean had her own stack of finds set aside at the register.

Then, out of nowhere, she was searching the men’s clothes. There it was, this butter-soft and warm button up with the brightest, most vibrant colors she had seen in a vintage shop. She grabbed it and turned around.

“Look at this! Wouldn’t it look great on Peter?”

Margot opened her mouth to respond but Kitty pulled her into a one armed hug and whispered something to her. Then they both nodded and agreed it’d be great on Peter. Lara Jean added it to her haul. She gave it to him at graduation with a card and he had been so touched. His gift to her had been a card with a cartoon dog that could throw its mortar board in the air as the card was opened and closed. Inside, he wrote a longish paragraph about how much it meant to have someone back from the old days in a new setting. It felt like an incredible honor to see such vulnerability from someone as put together as Peter.

The end sentence was the cherry on top for Lara Jean: “If you think this is it, you’re wrong: ‘til the end of the line, Covey.”

All because somehow, one weekend, avoiding midterm burnout meant a massive marathon of superhero movies from the last decade.

“Pay attention - there will definitely be a quiz.”

“You’ve made enough references I can almost quote these myself, Kavinsky.”

“Shh, grown ups are talking.”

“Infinity War: Tony Stark to Peter Parker.”

Then they both dissolved into laughter. Peter insisted they restart the scene.

Snapping herself out of the reminiscing, Lara Jean went back to the food prep. The talking was quieter and she couldn’t make most of it out.

When everything was settled and only a few minutes left on the cookies, Lara Jean stood by the door to listen.

“You’re only doing this because of her.”

Peter refutes that, “No, I’m not. Trust me - you know I’m the last person who would lie to you about something like this. Gen, we have to face the facts. We tried. We put in the time and the effort and it’s not working out. Neither of us is a bad person, Gen. But we keep doing this? We keep doing these things just to drive each other up the wall? We become those people we don’t ever want to be.”

Gen’s voice gets watery, not like when she summons tears on command, but the genuine emotion she usually hides behind the facade of an ice queen.

“If I leave right now, this is over. Completely. There’s no going back, Peter. I’m gone. Out of your life.”

Peter lets out a broken sigh, holding back his own tears, “Okay. That’s fair.”

Lara Jean has to walk out. Gen is already getting her purse and walking out. Lara Jean tries to stop, just so she can have her own closure. Gen holds out a hand. Her eyes are red and her frown is trembling.

“Dont. I don’t want to ever hear from you, either.”

Lara Jean nods. Genevieve takes a step, puts her chin up, and breezes out the door like she made this choice for herself a long time ago.

When the door lock clicks in the jamb, Lara Jean walks over to Peter, sat on the arm of the couch, and hugs him close to her. He starts to cry, then she cries with him. After a bit, she pulls away quickly, internal alarm ringing in her head.

“Oh shit, the cookies!”

She runs back to the kitchen. There’s no smoke but she can smell it in the air and she grabs an oven mitt to pull the pan out quick. The batch is a bit dark and they’ll probably be overly crispy but not ruined.

Peter is standing in the kitchen doorway, “Did you actually say “oh, shit” or am I waterlogged in the ears?”

She hides her face behind the oven mitt, “I’m sorry.”

He takes the oven mitt from her and pulls her back into another hug.

“Thanks for being here. And for helping me.”

“No problem.”

They stay like that in the middle of the kitchen for a long minute.

“Okay. Time for the food and burnt cookies.”

“They are not burnt!” Lara Jean squawks.

Peter is already grabbing the food and walking it back out to the dining room. Lara jean plates the browned cookies and follows suit.

Peter walks back to the kitchen and comes back out with two glasses and a bottle.

“Wine, really? On a school night?”

Peter shrugs, “It’s been that kind of day, Covey.”

She doesn’t disagree and takes a sip. It’s gonna be worth the slight fogginess in the morning.

“Wait,” she interjects before Peter can take a drink, “what did the doctor say?”

Peter sets the glass back down and hunts down the paperwork he brought home.

“Read it and weep - for joy - I’m all in the clear.” he says as he lays it down by her elbow.

She flips through it pretty quick, it’s all just outpatient tips and suggestions and claim copy. Then she holds up a receipt.

“An MRI?”

Peter nods, “I did in fact mention the whole memory thing. But they saw no signs that it was a symptom of anything serious. They mostly did the scan to confirm their diagnosis. I’ll have the full results soon.”

Lara Jean nods and a feeling of weight being lifted off her shoulders comes over her.

“Dr. Vaswani said it was probably temporary, considering I’m already getting most of it back.”

Lara Jean pauses with her food halfway to her mouth, “You are?”

Peter nods again, a soft smirk on his face, “Yeah. The bigger stuff that happened more recently, first off. I mean, most people don’t remember every moment of any given day anyway.”

She puts the food back down on the plate, “Good. That’s great, Peter.”

Her hand goes to the wine glass, finger running along the rim.

“Go ahead and ask.”

“What?” she startles out of a train of thought.

“Ask me if anything about what I think about us has changed.”

“Peter . . .” she trails off, at a loss for words.

Peter set his hand on the table.

“Nothing about my feelings has changed. Because my feelings were the same before, during, and now. I can’t remember small details about damn near anything in my life. But I could never forget how I feel about you, Lara Jean.”

She opens and closes her mouth. All the blood seems to be rushing to her head, filling her cheeks. This is, in her mind, a turning point.

Peter grins, “You don’t have to say anything right now. Part of you may not want to believe me yet and that’s okay. I’m going to prove myself. Simply and plainly.”

He starts eating again and Lara Jean hasn’t moved a single inch. He notices and motions to her glass before raising his up in the air. Lara Jean finally takes hold of her glass and does the same. They do the faux clink toast and with that simple gesture it’s a normal, everyday dinner.

It comes down to the cookies: to eat or not to eat?

Peter grabs one and chomps down.

“Wow, very heavy with the smoky flavor.”

Lara Jean covers her face.

“They’re well done!”

Peter takes another bite, slowly chewing and gesticulating, “That ashy undercoat adds a whole new level of texture. Interesting.”

She crumples a napkin and throws it at him.

“They aren’t ashy! It’s . . . caramelization.”

Peter turns over the cookie remaining and squints at it, “A very dark caramel. Like, an inky carbon color.”

She grimaces, laughing with him, “Okay, yeah. I get it. This batch isn’t the best. I owe you a dozen cookies.”

Peter nods and finishes the cookie. Then another. Soon, he’s eaten half the plate.

“Maybe only like half a dozen. I mean, these cookies are . . . fire.”

Lara Jean gets up from the table, not able to bear any more puns.

Afterward, they migrate to the living room, Lara Jean taking her place on her recliner and Peter stretching out on the couch.

“Netflix time?”

Lara Jean shakes her head, “Not unless you pick. I’m fine with whatever.”

He switches back to the main screen of the blu ray player and walks away to dig out a disc to play. He comes back with case and tosses it to Lara Jean.

“‘Pretty in Pink’?”

Peter shrugs, already back on the couch, “They didn’t have it on Netflix.”

Lara Jean gets up and puts the disc in, “So you bought it?”

Peter presses play on the remote.

“It’s my favorite of those movies.”

Somehow it’s that one little comment that has Lara Jean rewatching intently, seeing it in a new light. As the final song swells for the ending scene, everything clicks in place.

“I get it.”

She and Peter make eye contact.

“It’s the whole taking chances thing, right? Not just in life but giving a person, someone who has screwed things up before but is growing and getting better, the opportunity to be that person they want to be.”

Peter nods, “That, for sure. Also, it has the best soundtrack of all the 80’s teen movies.”

Lara Jean laughed, “Somewhere, a John Cusack in ‘High Fidelity’-type music nerd is getting offended and has no idea why.”

Peter narrows his eyes, “You can just say Josh Sanderson. I know that’s exactly who you meant.”

Lara Jean falls back deeper in the recliner, laughing so hard her ribs smart.

“You’re such a preppy, Kavinsky!”

Peter throws a small pillow at her. She picks it up and gets up to hit him with it, but he blocks with another pillow. Within seconds, they’re chasing each other around the apartment, the pillow fight engrossing them both for the rest of the night.

Lara Jean gets home late, curls up in bed, and falls asleep with a smile on her face.

They’re back to texting as usual over the weekend. Lara Jean is left wondering what Peter meant by proving himself.

She gets an answer.

On Monday, Peter sends flowers. He sends a small but quite tasteful arrangement for the front desk that Sami gushes over. For Lara Jean’s desk, he sends a bouquet of Forget-Me-Nots. Other than a hilarious play on words considering the situation, she has no previous knowledge of this particular bloom’s alternate meaning and just admires the pretty shade of blue it adds to the space.

She texts the news to Chris who’s three replies are “???” followed by “brb googling flower language” and finally a single red heart emoji. It’s a good sign, she’s sure.

Tuesday, a lunchtime delivery comes for her - straight from the Corner Cafe, there’s an order of a grilled cheese sandwich, a cup of tomato soup to dip, and a Cherry Coke. There’s a handwritten note included.

“Please play ‘Cherish’ by The Association as you eat.”

It does add a certain level of ambiance that just can’t be beat. She hums the melody the rest of the day.

Midweek, the gifts are done but she finds Post-It notes. Little pick-me-ups on her door, her desk, and even one waiting for her in her own fridge - on a tupperware container of carrot-onion rice balls. They’re done fairly well, maybe a little too deeply fried. But for a first attempt after only seeing it done? High marks for effort.

Thursday is always busy and Lara Jean doesn’t notice that nothing has come up.

Then she gets a call from Owen Kavinsky.

“Owen, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Owen, a wry-humored college sophomore, replies, “Just avoiding homework. Also, how is my ridiculously lucky brother?”

Lara Jean shoves the phone between her cheek and shoulder, “Hasn’t he gotten back to you?”

Owen chuckles and Lara Jean keeps quiet how much his voice is starting to sound like Peter’s. They’ve never vibed the way Kitty has with Peter and she doesn’t want to push buttons unintentionally.

“I tried calling a few times and our texting is more like an extended virtual game of Tag. I figured you might be more privy to his condition.”

Lara Jean is going to have a Talk, with the capital t, with Peter about communication and sibling bonding. But for now, she can keep his brother in the loop.

“Head injury wasn’t gruesome or dangerous so yay for that. He had some trouble with some temporary memory loss. Other than that, smooth sailing. Like you said, Peter is that lucky cat who always lands on his feet.”

Owen hums on the line.

“And the Gen thing?”

Lara Jean pauses.

“How did you hear about that?”

Owen’s chuckle sounds higher on the phone, “He didn’t text me much more than “please don’t tell her anything about me and remind Mom of the same” at some point. Figured she was back in the picture.”

Lara Jean hesitates. It’s really Peter’s personal business but Gen is the least likely to contact them of the three of them.

“It’s over. Finally and irrevocably.”

“Good on him. Has he gotten his head out of his behind and asked you out yet? Or is he saving up for an epic promposal?”

“Ha, ha, Owen,” she monotones.

Owen’s tone gets a bit more serious.

“He’s been hung up on you for years. I tried talking to him about it but he shut that down. I don’t know if it was the whole younger sibling not being taken seriously thing or if he felt like entertaining the idea was too Dad-like for him to be okay with while Gen was still hanging on.”

Lara Jean pauses. She’s always known Peter as close to his mother and brother but the idea that this was something he’d keep even from them is daunting. It’s also very much out of Owen’s usual demeanor to be so open with Lara Jean.

Which has her admitting, “He’s making it abundantly clear how he feels. I’m still in denial about how this is all really happening. Maybe I’m just paranoid about things seeming too good to be true.”

“Let me be perfectly frank with you, Lara Jean,” Owen starts, “Peter is acutely aware of how far out of his league a woman like you is. If anyone is shooting his shot against all odds, it’s my brother.”

Lara Jean smiles.

“I’m so telling him about this conversation.”

Owen counters, “Only if you want him to find out how that dent in the Jeep really got there.”

Lara Jean laughs, “Breaking a pinky promise is an offense punishable by law in the form of a lifetime baked goods ban, Owen Kavinsky. Are you willing to pay that price?”

Owen sighs.

“You drive a hard bargain, Ms. Song-Covey.”

“Thank you, I’ve learned from the best.”

They say their goodbyes and Lara Jean sends Peter a text that he should call his brother sometime this week.

He texts back a thumbs up emoji and Lara Jean puts her phone down to clean up.

At some point, she hears a text message notification ping. She waits until after she’s finished her dishes to look at it.

From Peter, it says, “Here’s a plan: Dinner, my place, tomorrow at 6. Are you in?”

This is where Lara Jean’s heart skips a beat. She can’t turn back from this, only move forward.

“Yes.”

Then she starts to panic, wondering if she should say anything more. She starts typing a long follow up text that includes questions about how dressy it should be and if she needs to bring anything with her when another text from Peter pops up.

“Don’t overthink this, please. All I’m hoping for is a nice night together.”

As Lara Jean deletes the draft, she knows that however this plays out, she isn't going to lose him in her life.

She gets through her work day with a smile and a spring in her step. At home, getting ready is like Homecoming crossed with Prom and suddenly she realizes Owen probably had a point when he was joking about this. Lara Jean goes through a pile of outfits before settling on a comfy sweater and jeans. She finds herself tugging at imaginary threads and pulling at the hems in a bout of self-consciousness.

She could dial Margot or Chris for some pep talk. Kitty might even be out of class for the day but something has her dialing a different number.

“Lara Jean,” Dr. Covey’s voice comes on the line, “how are you, sweetie?”

Lara Jean says, “Good, good. How’s the house? Trina said that you guys were thinking of redoing the living room.”

Dr. Covey speaks up, “Oh we’re still trying to find middle ground on the set-up, so any renovation is a long ways away.”

She hums a bit to signify she’s listening.

“Honey, you only live 40 minutes away - are you really calling on Friday night to make sure you’re up to date on our interior design decisions?”

Lara Jean takes a deep breath.

“Daddy, how did you know you were ready to date after Mommy?”

Truth be told, as much as she and her sisters poked and prodded him to get out there and even tried a few subtle set-ups, she remembers her father being the one to ask their neighbor Trina to stay for a nightcap after Kitty’s birthday dinner while the girls went out to a movie.

They dated for the better part of a year before they married and Trina moved in. It was actually hard to tell which boxes were Lara Jean moving out to the dorms and which were Trina’s things moving in. She still had to bring a box of mishandled glassware from her dorm to the house the first weekend back home.

Dr. Covey answers, “Truthfully, I don’t think I was. Kitty had helped me get something from the kitchen and just blurted out that Trina would probably say yes if I asked her out. So I did. I was still sure she would say no.”

Kitty, the mastermind, was a true artist in the art of matchmaking. Lara Jean laughed.

“Lara Jean,” he continues, “sometimes the best part of trying something new or different is the fact that so many things you never thought could happen do. Relationships are hard, they can get messy, and nothing about them is guaranteed. But it is always worth the risk.

“You’ve grown so much as person in ways you haven’t even noticed ever since you made the decision to go away for college. I’ll admit, at first I was worried, considering how you had chosen to fly under the radar during school and played it safe but you rose to meet it. You’re not just the confident woman I’d always imagined you’d be - you’re better.”

Lara Jean wipes at her teary eyes, grateful for the decision to forgo any makeup more than waterproof mascara and lipgloss.

“And if my hunch is correct, and this is about Peter Kavinsky, let me say that he’s a good man. If nothing else, I’m glad he’s a good friend of yours and I’d be happy to see him around here more often. Don’t worry about whether you’re ready or if this is the right time - go out and make some memories. Those are life’s greatest gifts.”

Lara Jean smiles.

“Thank you so much for telling me this. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Lara Jean.”

They hang up and Lara Jean goes to the bathroom to splash cool water on her face. After she pats it dry, she steps back and looks at herself in the mirror.

She can see herself so clearly now. Sometimes she forgets she’s not the sixteen year old girl sitting in front of her vanity’s mirror in her childhood bedroom anymore. She’s gotten less round in the face; her cheeks and the sides of her jaw getting more angular. She still sees so much of her mother in Margot’s face but she’s looked at some of the more recent photos of herself and found a smile that looks like the ones she sees in her scrapbooks. She wears her hair down more, opting for looser braids and easy, low maintenance buns over the intricate ways she kept her hair up during her school years.

Looking at her reflection, she can see the years that have passed and the lessons she’s learned. She’s ready for the next chapter in her story.

Knocking on Peter’s door, Lara Jean wishes she had taken out that last batch of frozen dough and cooked a redo dozen cookies for the night.

Peter answers the door and Lara Jean feels breathless. He’s in the shirt she gave him, layering it over a tee from his favorite band and sleeves rolled up to his elbow. His hair looks nice but Lara Jean could spot the way it’s been tugged from him running his hands through it from a mile away. Peter’s best feature, according to Lara Jean, has always been his eyes and she can see the pride and nervousness shining in them.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he parrots back and then quickly shuffles to let her in.

The apartment is immaculate as usual but Lara Jean catches herself focused on the dining room table covered with a white tablecloth and set up with the good cutlery and plates Peter’s always has shoved away in the cabinets. A fresher small bundle of Forget-Me-Nots is in a clear crystal vase in the middle. Peter takes her jacket and she drops off her purse.

He leads her to the table and then excuses himself to get everything from the kitchen. Lara Jean notices the stereo system is on but volume turned low. She gets up and turns it up a bit. It’s a slow jam on the R&B station. Lara Jean isn’t entirely familiar with it but she sways and shimmies back to sit down.

Peter comes back out with a covered plate. He sets it down on the table and swerves right back into the kitchen for the bottle. It’s a sparkling wine this time.

Lara Jean takes a quick sip once he pours her glass, “What highly classy pairing can I expect with this rare treat, Peter?”

Peter grabs hold of the cover on the plate, “Only the best dish I can possibly make on my own.”

He removes it to reveal a plate of homemade chicken tenders and over roasted fries.

“Oh, Peter, you've outdone yourself!”

He serves her then himself, “I'm really committed to the whole not setting my place on fire idea so I decided simpler may be better this time around.”

Lara Jean pick up a fry and crunches down on it, “Still missing that signature dipping sauce, though.”

Peter holds up a hand and from behind his back produces two cups of the usual dipping sauce included with the Corner Cafe version of the same meal.

Now Lara Jean is truly impressed.

“Making sauce is actually a huge feat, Peter. Did you find the recipe online?”

He admits, “More like bought it in house. It turns out if you buy the tenders meal and a chocolate shake to go and have really charismatic puppy dog eyes, you can purchase extra sauce.”

Lara Jean laughs her head off and Peter joins in, chuckling and grinning wide.

“Is that why there were no gifts or notes yesterday? You were here reverse engineering the tenders and slurping your shake?”

Peter nods, “I also had an errand to run but that's a story for later. This is too good to let get cold.”

They dig in and Peter’s right - the freshness really elevates the ordinary meal to something special.

The way Peter keeps glancing her way and just can't stop smiling should make Lara Jean anxious but she's enjoying herself, truly, and she's still smiling and looking right back at him.

They finish the first course and Peter ducks into the kitchen for dessert - two bowls of mango flavored frozen yogurt. It's a great palate cleanser after the meal and it makes the sips of sparkling wine taste a little sweeter.

“Peter, this was all so good! I should leave the cooking to you more often.”

Peter scoffs, “Yeah, maybe if I were half as good at cooking as you are at baking.”

Lara Jean puts her face in her hands, trying to cover her flush, “Stop. It’s nothing special.”

“You are special,” Peter insists, “You’re fantastic. And I’m not just talking about your skills in the kitchen.”

Lara Jean moves her hands down to support her neck. Peter moves his bowl to the side and leans forward with his arms on the table.

They sit there just looking at each other for a half minute. Then the station on in the background changes songs. It’s something they both recognize. Peter raises one brow in a questioning gesture. Lara Jean sits up a bit straighter. Peter gets up and walks around the table. He holds out a hand for her to take. She puts her hand in his and lets him pull her up from the chair. It’s different from the last time they danced in his apartment. There’s this underlying current of tension between them. Lara Jean presses closer and Peter holds her tighter in his arms.

They’re still swaying to the beat as the song fades out. Like last time, Lara Jean’s face is tilted up to within centimeters of Peter’s. Peter is the one to pull back this time, slow and not so far away, and leads Lara Jean by their intertwined hands to the couch. He motions for her to sit down and steps back.

“So, I have a gift for you.”

Lara Jean tilts her head to the side, “Another one? I thought all of this was the gift.”

Peter shifts on his feet, wiping his palms on his jeans, “Yeah, it is. Definitely. Just. Wait right here.”

He walks away to get it out of his bedroom. Lara Jean smoothes out the denim covering her legs, trying to dissipate the nervousness bubbling up inside her. He comes back out and sits next to her on the couch, placing a gift bag tied closed with ribbon directly in front of her on the coffee table.

“Oh, it’s an actual present.”

Lara Jean pulls the ribbon holding the bag closed away. There’s some tissue paper that she sets aside and pulls out the first item she can grasp.

It’s a worn but fair copy of ‘Ella Enchanted’.

Lara Jean has always been a voracious reader and before the pulp finds and harlequin romances filled her shelves, stories like ‘Ella Enchanted’ stood proud. It was always a favorite and her copy at home is in much worse shape from near constant re-readings. But it’s still readable.

“Um, Peter, this is sweet but I already have a copy.”

He grins and it occurs to Lara Jean to look inside.

There, right on the page dedicating the book to David, is an inscription and signature from Gail Carson Levine.

“To Lara Jean, I give the gift of following your heart on whatever adventures may come next” it reads.

Lara Jean is speechless. There aren’t words for how much this means, how utterly perfect this gift is to her. She looks up at Peter through watery eyes, aware of how the tears are already spilling down her face. He moves a bit closer and wipes a few away, sheepish grin on his face.

“I actually got it done a while ago. It was going to be a birthday gift, but this feels right. I just had to pick it up from my mom’s shop - she was keeping it safe for me.”

She still can’t speak, just hugging the book close to her.

Peter motions to the bag, “That’s not all that’s in there.”

Lara Jean places the book down in her lap and reaches back in. She knows what they are before she pulls them out. It’s two very familiar envelopes, both addressed to Peter; one as he was in 7th grade, and the other from now.

“Kitty gave them to me - we hung out the other day and right before she left, she handed them to me. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to read them but I did. I read them over and over.”

He shakes his head to stop himself, “That doesn’t matter. I know they were written to me but it feels like they were more for you so I’m giving them back.”

Lara Jean looks at the letters in her hands. They seem so heavy, filled with the weight of all her hopes and fears.

“I wrote them to stop the feelings. To keep them from consuming me and tearing me apart.”

She drops the envelopes back in the bag. She gently sets aside her new favorite book and turns to face Peter.

“I don’t need to do that anymore. I’m embracing them, here and now. I love you, Peter Kavinsky.”

Peter laughs but he’s tearing up a little bit too. He reaches out and takes her hand in his.

“I love you so much, Lara Jean. I need you to know whatever happens, wherever this takes us, I’m all in.”

They embrace and for the first time in years, their lips meet again for a kiss. It’s not perfect but that’s what makes it so beautiful to Lara Jean. Peter pulls back and presses kisses all along her jaw then on the shell of her ear with his nose buried in her hair. Lara Jean tugs at his shirt, the shirt she gave him, and put her hands on his face, her thumbs moving softly along his jaw. She lifts her head and presses her lips against his, soft and tender.

Their eyes meet and they touch their foreheads together, breathless and blissful.

“This is my favorite part,” Peter whispers to her, “the scene where the couple is together and you know they’re getting the good ending.”

Lara Jean smiles, “But this isn’t the end.”

She tosses her hair back over her shoulder and brushes her fingers across Peter’s cheek, “This is our happy beginning. I’ll treasure it for the rest of my life.”