TELEKINETIC │ p.p

Chapter Nineteen

"The grass is slippery," Vanessa giggles as she slips back into the hot tub with her fifth glass of whatever she was drinking.

"I think you've had enough-"

"Don't touch me," Vanessa groaned Kate's way, stepping back. The water followed her legs, a little too harshly, and swept her off her feet, straight onto Peter's lap. Of course. "Hey," she spoke softly, unable to contain her giggles.

"Hey," Peter replied. He was on his second, which was mostly water. He had promised Tony, over the phone, that he'd be on his best behavior so he could look after Vanessa, and did not want to let Mr. Stark down. But he also didn't want to forget any detail about this weekend.

"Look at your curls," Vanessa grins, running her hand gently through his hair, picking at the curls with such care. "You kinda look like a surfer dude."

"I don't know whether to take that as an insult or as a compliment," Peter chuckles, absentmindedly draping his arms around her hips.

"Well, you're the cutest surfer dude in the universe," Vanessa smiles, not flashing her eyes away from his for even a second. In fact, she moved closer. Peter gulped as her nose skimmed his. He felt like his heart was on a rollercoaster in this moment, taking a huge drop as she was centimeters from his face, and crawling its way up to the top once again as he thought about finally connecting their lips. "You're single, right?"

Peter let out a small laugh, nodding. "Sadly."

"Good, because I wouldn't want your girlfriend to get upset about all this," Vanessa slurred as she gestured toward their closeness and her choice of seat.

"Can you really have memory issues when you're drunk?" Peter whispered to Ned, who was sat closer to him than before.

"Some people do," Ned shrugs. "At least she knows who you are."

"Are you sure about that?" Peter responds. "What if she thinks I'm her boyfriend from back home or something?"

"Peter," Vanessa sighs, resting her head on his chest as her arms loosen their grip around his neck. Ned gives Peter a look, turning back to Kate.

"Vanessa," Peter eventually responds, not knowing whether to rest his head on hers or to just leave it upright.

"I'm kinda tired," she mumbles, removing her arms from Peter's neck and moving her hands to her face to rub her eyes. She lets out a giant yawn and looks up at Peter with "sleepy" eyes.

"Come on then," he whispers, lifting her up from his lap and standing. He kept their hands locked as he stepped out, helping her out as well.

"Carry me," she smiles, eyes closed, arms outspread like an eagle. Peter chuckles, sweeping her off her feet and carrying her bridal style into the cabin. He sets her down as he steps in, shutting the sliding door behind them.

"I'm gonna grab your towel," he says, moving away from her. She sighs, eyes still closed, hoping he'd buy her act. She really just wanted them to be alone, feeling like Kate and Ned were holding her back. "Here," Peter whispers, draping it over her shoulders.

Vanessa moved her body close to his and looked up into his big brown eyes. She smiled, leaning closer toward his face. Peter stopped her, holding her out at arms length. "You're drunk, Vanessa."

"That doesn't mean I don't want to," she retaliates.

"Vanessa-"

"I thought you liked me," she shouts, pouting.

"I do-"

"You don't have to lie to me," she responds, brushing off her towel and running up to her room.

"Nessa!" Peter called after her, chasing her. He slammed into her door as she closed it quickly in his face, locking it. He knocked on the door, begging for her to open it.

Many minutes passed and Peter wasn't making any progress. He grunted, kicked the door, then proceeded back to the living area. He had the most beautiful chick pressed against his body, so close to kissing her, when he just stopped her. He stopped her. Was he an idiot? He sure felt like it.

He sat on the couch, a frown upon his face, the heels of his hands dug into his cheeks as he stared at the ground. He thought and thought about how he could make it better, make her realize why they couldn't kiss without actually spilling the "I like you" card. That would be the dumbest time to confess his feelings, considering her state.

"Peter," a voice mumbled. He looked up, standing immediately when he saw her face. Her swollen, red face. She was wrapped in a towel, obviously nude beneath it. Her hair was way more than damp, like it was earlier, and water droplets clung to her body for dear life. Had he really left her alone for that long? "I'm sorry," she whispered, about to cry again. He could hear her voice quiver as she spoke. "You're a really great guy."

"Why do you say that?" he questions, feeling guilty that he wanted to hear her explain what he already knew.

"You wouldn't let me kiss you," she spoke. "Most guys wouldn't mind. Wouldn't even register that the lips they're tasting have been drenched with the touch of alcohol. They'd maybe even make the next move-" She choked up at this point, but shook her head, clearing her throat. "And I really want to thank you for not doing that. For not being like every animal out there."

Peter was left speechless. He didn't know what to say. Did she even want him to respond? Did she want him to ask if that had happened to her before? He would never know. Because all he did in that moment was give her a loose side hug and pull her up to the bedroom to change into clothes.

But once she was clothed, he hugged the hell out of her. He could tell, by her grip and her strength as she held back sobs, that she had dealt with at least one asshole before. His blood boiled at the thought. How could nobody else see how delicate and fragile she was? You had to be gentle with her, hold her with care, and love her like you both were dying. He didn't want to imagine what cruel things have been done to her, what mischievous fingers have pecked and prodded at her gorgeous, glowing skin.

Maybe it was the small amount of alcohol he held in his stomach, or just the absolute adoration he felt for her right now, but he pressed a warm kiss to her cheek and tucked her into her bed.

"Goodnight, Peter," Vanessa mumbled, cuddling into her pillow. She smelled of coconuts and green apples, thanks to the shampoo and body soap in the shower, which left a relaxed sensation over Peter's body for the rest of the night and into the morning. That was until he was rudely awoken to the sound of glass shattering.