Falling For Mr. Perfect (Daily Updates)

12 But It's Never the Same

"BUT IT'S NEVER THE SAME"

What's wrong with things being complicated?

That's what Peter said a second before our picture was taken on top of the Ferris wheel last night. I didn't give him an answer then, and I still didn't have an answer for him the next day.

What I did have was a photo of us that could've been on the cover of an angsty teen romance novel.

The two of us stared at each other. My dark hair windblown, his light curls ruffled. My mouth hanging open because Peter Conway took me completely by surprise.

Chris paid for our picture. He thought we kissed too late and that's why we looked so weird in the photo. We let him believe that.

When in reality, I looked like a deer in headlights because that's exactly what I was. What did Peter mean by what's wrong with things being complicated?

Most people preferred to avoid complications. But Peter wasn't most people. He was unique and all his own. He was funny and thoughtful and he's never judged me. He smelled like dryer sheets and only wore shirts with bands on them. He recycled and drove with both hands on the wheel at all times.

He was afraid to have his heart broken.

Even if I wanted to turn our fake relationship real, did I trust myself not hurt him? I didn't want to be responsible for his first break up.

Then there's that stuff Cherry said about her and Tristan. How she couldn't tell if she really liked him or if she was just caught up in the romance of a first date.

What if that was all I was for Peter? A new experience he was caught up in. He never had a girlfriend before. He could only think he likes me because he had nothing to compare me to.

What's wrong with things being complicated? he asked.

"Everything!" I shouted at my ceiling with a groan.

When he dropped me off last night, he invited me to go bowling with his family. Apparently, that was an every Sunday event. I declined because I couldn't fake being his girlfriend until I figured out my real feelings.

The front door opened, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts. Freckles, who'd been napping on my floor, barked at my closed bedroom door. My dad was out with friends and he told me he might be home late. He definitely needed to get out of the house and to stop staring at the wall in trance-like state. So I didn't mind.

So, who the hell just walked in?

"Where's my little bunny?" called out a familiar voice.

I hopped out of bed, my real problems with my fake boyfriend put on hold. I ran down the stairs and right into my grandma's opened arms.

"What are you doing here?" I asked as we squeezed each other. Her familiar perfume filled my nose as we embraced.

She wasn't like typical grandma's--no white hair and velcro shoes for her. She dyed her hair a reddish brown close to mine and my mom's natural color. She only wore the nicest clothes and you'd have to pry her red bottom heels from cold, dead hands.

She towarded over me now in a pair of heels and a cute royal blue dress that popped against her summer tanned skin.

"I wanted to see my grandbaby," she said, releasing me. "Also, your mom wanted to grab a few things. I volunteered to do it because I wanted check up on you."