𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐋𝐢𝐞 | t. holland

4.

"No! No!" you laughed. "Thats not what I meant!"

You could hear Peter laughing on the other end of the call. "Whatever; like you could have meant anything else."

"What I meant," you capped the pen you'd been doodling with, "was that spaghetti isn't the greatest for a dinner date because it's so messy. I did not mean I hated spaghetti."

Peter couldn't stop his laughter. "So—so you mean," he snickered. "Spaghetti isn't your favorite?"

"Y'know what Peter? You can shut up."

"What? All I said was you didn't like spaghetti."

"But I do like spaghetti, just not on a dinner date."

"So on some occasions, you don't like spaghetti."

You rolled your eyes even though he couldn't see you. "I guess if you really wanted to phrase it like that, yes. On some occasions, meaning a dinner date, I'd prefer something else over spaghetti."

Peter laughed again.

Calls like this had been happening for weeks now. Every other day or so Peter would call you after classes and talk with you about anything from work, to history, to the stars in the sky.

You loved it. And you assumed he did too, because he called you without fail every evening to at least say goodnight.

"Fine, think what you want," you said. "I have class in fifteen so I'd better start walking." You gathered up your notebook and pens scattered over your bedspread and shoved them into your shoulder bag.

"Aw, is it really time to go already?" Peter asked this every time.

"Sadly yes," you said, smiling, loving the fact that he didn't want you to go either. "If I want to pass college I need to pass my biology class. Which is killing me so I probably should have been studying instead of talking to you but whatever." You slung your bag over your shoulder and picked up the phone. Taking it off speaker, you held it up to your ear.

"Oh no, I'm sorry I should have let you study, Y/N."

"Hey no," you shifted your shoulder so you could grab your mittens and Peter's red scarf. "Alex is tutoring me tomorrow before the test so I'll be okay. I was teasing you."

"Still," you heard his voice through the fuzzy connection. "Do you... like calling all the time?"

You locked your dorm behind you and pushed the keys into your coat pocket. "Like? I love it Peter, you brighten my day. Do you like it?" You suddenly turned anxious.

"Of course! I love this, I love talking to you, I love you...r ....the sound of your voice." Peter laughed nervously.

You didn't know how to take it. "Oh, okay, awesome. So uh, call me tonight after class?"

"Actually," Peter groaned and you heard a paper ruffle on the other end. "I've gotta be on set tonight. They're doing a late filming. They need a night outdoors scene."

"Lame," you concluded.

"Don't I know it," he sighed. "But tomorrow, I'll be free any time after dinner."

"British dinner or American?" you teased. You knew he had British heritage of some sort and sometimes he got the time mixed up.

"American. Gah, Y/N, when will you stop teasing me about that?"

"Never." You smirked into the freezing air that attacked your face as you approached the biology building. "But it'll have to momentarily end there Pete; I'm here at the bio lab."

"Aw," he groaned.

What a baby, you thought. You held in a laugh.

"Okay, okay, have fun, take notes, I'll call you tomorrow."

"Alright Peter."

"Bye Y/N."

"Bye!"

The call went dead and you ascended into the horrid world of biology.

Here goes nothing.

~~~

"Hello?"

"Guess what?"

"Peter?" you asked. "I thought you had to be out at a filming tonight?"

"They ended early. Hope I didn't wake you," he said. 

"No, no." You stacked your homework and closed your notebook. "Just finished studying. I was about to look for a movie to watch, seeing as tomorrow is Saturday and all."

Peter sighed on the other end. "Wish we could watch a movie together."

You smiled. "Yeah... me too."

"Really?" You heard a squeak as if he'd just sat up straight in an old spinny chair. "You'd want to?"

"Well, yeah." You reached for the lamp beside your bed and the room went dark. "We've been on what, like two dates? If it were fate's will, I'd want a third."

"You—you want another date?"

You began to realize what you'd said. "Uh—well—what I mean is—"

"Oh—" Peter said hesitantly. "I mean, it's okay if you don't. Like, it's fine..."

"Peter," you smiled. "I like you."

Silence. Then, "you what?"

"I... like you." You sat still on your bed, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Woah..." Peter's side of the conversation went fuzzy for a second. "I like you too..."

You audibly sighed. "Really?"

Peter laughed. "Why else would I call you every night?"

You laughed again. "I guess that makes sense. Wow, now I really wish I could see you."

"Well... it's too late here to turn on the lights otherwise I'd video chat, but tomorrow we should. Y'know, for fun," Peter said. 

"I like that idea," you said. 

"Okay, great."

It was quiet for a moment.

"Well uh, I gotta head to bed Pete."

"Yeah, yeah, it must be late. I—I mean it is late. I mean—yeah; it's time to sleep."

You giggled. "Have I ever told you how dorky you are when you're tired?"

"Oh, what ever Y/N. You're the dorkiest person I know," he said. 

"Well, you could rival my position if you lived in third person," you said. 

"What are we even talking about?" Peter asked. 

"I don't know. Goodnight Peter." You yawned.

You heard him yawn as well. "Goodnight,"

The call went silent and you slumped down into your covers. The phone dropped onto your chest and a daydream took over your thoughts.

Peter likes me. He really likes me.

You slept soundly that night with a light smile upon your lips.