Falling For Mr. Perfect (Daily Updates)

18 Just Minding My Business

"JUST MINDING MY BUSINESS"

My head lay on Peter's chest, my eyes half closed as the dumb girl on the tv walked towards the creepy noise. Horror movies were a hundred times worse than my dad's sci-fi movies. But it was what Peter chose to watch as we cuddled in his bed.

I yelped, shutting my eyes as the serial killer popped out, swinging his machete and decapitating the girl.

Peter's chuckled at my reaction, his hand rubbing my arm. "You sure you don't want to watch a different movie?"

"How can you stand to watch this?" I said, peeking one eye open to make sure no one was being murdered on screen. "I thought you were scared of blood?"

"I'm not scared of it. It makes me woozy," he clarified, as if it made a difference. "And that's not real blood. It's corn syrup."

"Okay, but how do you not flinchwatching someones head fly ten feet away from their body?" He shut the tv off and I sat up to look at him. "We can finish the movie."

"You were two seconds from crawling inside my shirt to hide," he said, eyes full of amusement.

"Maybe..." I stopped myself from sliding my hand under his shirt and making a suggestive joke.

She's been with a lot of guys.

No matter how many times I told myself that the list was a fake made by Daniel to annoy me, I couldn't shake it from my head. Fake or not, those statements were personal.

"What was that?" He asked, brows furrowed.

My shoulders lifted as I traced the lines on his plaid comforter. "Nothing. It's...nothing. Turn the movie back on. I'll try to brave these violent death scenes."

I went to grab the remote, but he beat me to it. "Does this have something to do with why you were being weird last night?"

I knew he knew. Still, I hoped he wouldn't ask. My first instinct was to lie. Daniel and his list weren't worth the breath I'd waste talking about it. But it didn't feel right keeping things from him.

"Daniel messaged me while we were at the pizza place," I admitted.

His face softened as realization, and maybe a little hurt, washed over him. "That's why you wanted to go home early?"

"It wasn't like that. He told me he had my song book."

"Did he?"

"No, he lied to get me to meet him."

His blue eyes flashed with anger as he sat up, jaw tight. "Why? Did he try something?"

"It's so hot when you do that."

He wasn't interested in my jokes. "Faye, why'd he want to meet with you?"

I leaned over him, grabbing my bag from floor. "It's nothing, really," I told him as I rummaged around looking for the note. "He wants us to break up so I'll write a negative song about you and people will stop harassing him with my lyrics."

Finding the note, I handed it to Peter, who tore it open. His eyes scanned the page, brows pinched.

"I told you it was nothing, just a fake--"