As I slunk home, dread of ever even seeing Matt's face again filled me. I realized that the picture of him looking at me through the window holding boba, with the soft lights reflecting off of every inch of his skin, would forever be ingrained in my mind, no matter how hard I tried to forget it. The shy smile, hand in his pocket, the cut on his cheek and the slightly loosened thin red tie that popped out against his crisp white button up and matched with his red glasses.
I tried to clear my mind quickly as I slipped in the window of my apartment. Peter was in the shower. I quietly closed the window behind me and crawled up the wall onto the ceiling. I hung there for a minute, finishing my drink and scrolling on my phone. Peter came out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist, his wet brown hair slicked back against his head.
I was still on my phone, hanging from a web from the ceiling. My cup rested in the crook of my elbow as I mindlessly scrolled through my notifications. Peter approached his box of things and sifted through it, pulling out something I didn't bother to look at. "Ahh, ahaha," he said. I could hear the grin in his voice.
He walked away into my room to change, and I dropped my phone and mask onto the couch. Peter came out in his boxers and a wife beater. I hung limply from the ceiling, trying to calm myself down. My eyes were closed and I took deep breaths, holding my boba inches away from me. Peter came closer and snatched my drink from me, sneering at me victoriously.
"You're so mean," I whined, willing my eyes to not travel his exposed chest. He left with the cup, which was almost empty, and returned moments later with a brown button up in combination with a navy blue suit. "What do we think?" he smiled as I turned to him. "I've set up a dinner for us, come on. I put out a dress on your bed."
"Oh, oh- ok," I stumbled, letting myself down onto the couch. I walked to my room and the dress sat on the sheets. It was lacy black, with cut outs on the back and stomach, and long slits on the thighs. It went down to my knees. Something about tonight felt very familiar, but I couldn't place it.
And then it hit me. I walked out of my bedroom and saw Peter sitting on the couch, scrolling on his phone. He sipped on the last of my drink. As I approached him, he looked me over head to toe, biting on the straw.
He stood and set down the cup, his gaze slowly washing over me. "Oh my god, you look gorgeous, Gwen," he murmured, smiling. "Thanks," I smiled back, "you know, we wore these exact outfits to a Daily Bugle ball once."
"Really?" he said, putting his arms around my torso, "I'm aware," he whispered into my ear, leaning his chin on my shoulder and giving me a hug. It made my heart explode.
He backed away a little. "Is this too much? I can bring dinner down here and we can stay in on the couch," he offered, his hands on my ribs.
I shook my head with a shy smile and he gave me a grin. "C'mon!" he said, grabbing me by the wrist and leading me out the door and up to the roof.
We walked out onto the roof, both of us in just socks. "Ohh, fuck Peter, it's freezing!" I said, crossing my arms. He laughed and removed his jacket, placing it around my shoulders and throwing his arms around me. His jacket was warm with the faint scent of dust and him.
"What's a matter? You're not used to being near-naked in a Spandex suit in New York weather?" he chuckled. He covered my eyes and led me over a bit. "Et voila..." He grinned. I opened my eyes to a red gingham picnic blanket that sat on the cold hard ground, solely held down by a steamy pizza box that sunk down at the middle. Two white and blue cups with bendy straws sat next to it.
Two tea candles with a weak flames sat on the roof's ledge, flickering boldly against the pitch black sky. I stayed silent. I was speechless, I had no words. The only thing that came to me was a breathless scoff. I leaned my back against Peter.
"Peter, this is..." I trailed off, leaning my head up at him.
He tipped his head down to me with a worried look. "Do you like it?" He stammered anxiously.
I giggled. "Of course I like it. It's amazing." I smiled.
He gave a shy laugh. "Whew, that's good, that's good." He exhaled, sitting on the other side of the pizza. He lifted the crumpled top and a stream of steam rose from the center of the pepperoni pizza.
The candlelight flickered. I felt like my soul flickered back. It all didn't seem real. The boyish smile on Peter's face that seemed to never leave; the way his tawny brown hair stood in perfect synchrony; the way his deep coffee-toned eyes lit up when I spoke; the inhale from his nose when I walked past him; his happy expression when I wear his hoodie. I'm not going to take any of it for granted. That's something I will promise myself.
Peter and I ate the very traditional New York style pizza- I think he ate around 5 slices. When I brought this up, he mimed an angry face and said, "Harrumph. So mean to me,"
I laughed at him. Things like this repeated until we finished eating and we walked back into the apartment in our socks. He put the pizza on the counter and paused for a moment, fiddling with his black tie, which was haphazardly wrapped around his neck. I leaned back against the couch, feeling an involuntary smile creep up the corners of my mouth.
He turned back to me. "What?" he laughed, seeing the smile grow on my face. I shrugged, still smiling.
He took steps closer to me. I held his navy blue jacket in my arms, but placed on the back of the couch and rushed to him. In a fit of euphoria, I rushed to his chest, grabbing him by his black tie and pulling his lips to mine. He hesitated a moment as if taken by absolute surprise, but not a moment later he returned the favor and wrapped his hand around the back of my neck, his thumb rubbing against my ear.
He disconnected for a second and exhaled with a smile I felt against my lips. He laughed quietly and said, "Are you okay?"
I just smiled and said, "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it." He smiled broader and started another gentle kiss, breathing shallowly and placing a hand on my back.
He left my face again. "I can't tell you how much I've missed this," he whispered hoarsely, ripping off his tie.
Without a tie for me to grab hold of, I reached my hand for the nape of his neck and the short hair that grew at the base of his scalp. He was just about to unbutton his shirt when he paused and bit my lip, giving it a final taste and shaking his head. "No, no- sorry, I-" he hesitated, placing his hands around my neck and pressing his lips to my forehead.
"I'm sorry, Gwen, but I don't want to rush this. I want to savor it as much as I can. We can pick this up later, but it's late. We should get to bed." He said in a raspy voice.
I giggled like a high school girl. "Ok,"
We each prepared to sleep and I crept under the covers of my bed. Peter came out of the bathroom after changing and popped into my room. "Goodnight, Gwen," he smiled, about to turn off the light switch.
"Hey, come over here," I smiled, patting the bed next to me. "Really?" he said, his brown eyes lighting up. "Yes, silly, get over here," I said.
He turned out the lights, his figure illuminated only by the moonlight shining through the window behind my bed. His shadow crept to my bed and laid behind me, putting an arm under my head and wrapping the other around my waist. Peter laid his head close behind mine, inhaling deeply the scent of my hair.
He exhaled slowly and gave a small, almost inaudible scoff. "This is my home." he whispered in my ear.
In my head, I decided that night. Comparing the two nights I had been given, neither of which I deserved, what Peter gave me was better than what Matt ever could have; simply because he was Peter. Peter was my person. He was my home, too.
