Shattered (Watty Awards 2011!)

Chapter 15

Hey guys.

Its been a while! I'm very sorry, been sick lately and rather busy. :-/ Got a lot of reading to catch up on, so I apologize to anyone waiting for me to do that too.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Not as ling, but more Peter & Emma fluff. :-)

Oh and shall we try for 50 votes this time?

-Me

------------------------------

Chapter 15

The weekend was over rather quickly, and Sunday evening arrived sooner than I expected. I found a growing sense of trepidation wreaking havoc in my stomach as the ride to The House progressed. I felt embarrassed and confused and completely at a loss as to how I should be acting.

Stupid boys. Stupid, aggravating, idiotic men that complete confuse your brain and twist your heart without really knowing it. Stupid Harry for being such a... a... sop, and aggravating Peter for just sitting there being so... so nice, and polite, and... and nice!

Oh for goodness sake. I was fraught about a perfect gentleman being a perfect gentleman! I'm the only person I know that would be.

Of course, the latter part of last week, after the whole fiasco with Harry, had been completely awkward. I didn't look Harry in the eye once, but managed to catch his looks of longing frequently. He was almost like a sad little dog, and those blue eyes suddenly weren't so beautiful when they seemed so pathetic.

And Peter. I had no idea what to do. Had Harry mentioned anything? It was hard to tell with Peter. He wore such an emotionless mask that it was difficult to tell his true feelings at all, unless he actually outright said them.

He didn't invite me to breakfast again, to which I was both relieved and... disappointed. I think part of me enjoyed the odd conversations we had... and another part of me dreaded them, because they were, well, odd.

I did try to understand both Peter and Harry. I honestly did my best - but they were so difficult to understand that it felt impossible.

I suppose it would help if I understood myself first.

------------------------------

That evening, there was a rather ferocious storm outside. Thunder crashed, shaking the top levels of the Dinsmoore mansion, and according to one of the gardeners, a tree on the back of the property had been split almost in half thanks to a bolt of nitrogen-fueled energy from the sky.

Peter finished his supper around 7:30, so I went in and cleared his desk, picking up the tray carefully, so as not to disturb his reading. He glanced up as I reached for his teacup.

"Oh, thanks Emma. Sorry, I was a bit preoccupied with this book," he said, lifting the green volume slightly so I could see.

"It looks very interesting. No need to apologize."

He nodded, giving me a quick smile, and then went back to reading.

"Would you mind bringing up some more tea? If you can't be bothered, don't worry."

"Oh, certainly. It's my job to bother," I smiled. "I'll be back in a minute."

I brought up tea for both of us. I had mostly finished my work anyway.

I sat the tea tray on the low coffee table rather than the desk. Peter looked up, maybe a bit surprised, but it was hard to tell.

"Why over there?" he asked simply, setting down his book.