˗ˏˋ DISTRACTION, PETER KAVINSKY ˎˊ˗

˗ˏˋ ONE, REWRITTEN ˎˊ˗

     WALKING INTO A WARM ROOM after being out in the cold is what Rosalie imagines, what she thinks being loved by Lara Jean would feel like. She thinks about these things a lot, what it would be like. The feeling of being home for the holidays, pulling a warm pan out of the oven and wearing ridiculously decorated oven-mitts. Sunshine shining through a small sliver in the curtains into a dark room, the sound of a camera shutter. Climbing out the window and sitting on the roof to watch the sunrise, the softness of a bath-robe. The feeling of the wind in her hair, and the warmth from holding a cup of tea.

     She imagines being loved by Lara Jean would feel like home, more than her own; somewhere she'll finally belong.

     Rosalie wonders how her love would feel. If she would feel like home.

     She doesn't. Her love is not home, not the warm feeling after a day in the cold. She's the feeling of a marble countertop, a late night drive; looking at a bright screen in the early morning. The taste of raspberries and the crushing of pomegranate, the short days of winter. She is not a warm cup of tea or the feeling of wind in her hair, but the flicker of a streetlight and the sound of heels against cobblestone.

     She hopes that'll be enough to make her stay.

     Rosalie likes to think it'll be enough, because Lara Jean has stuck around for a long time now, and that must mean something.

     She just hasn't 'stuck around' in the way Rose wanted her to.

     Rosalie can't really remember exactly when she fell for the Song-Covey girl, she had never been able to pinpoint an exact moment.

     She used to think it all started in fourth grade, more specifically, after the fourth grade Christmas choir and band concert. She had met Lara Jean two years before, and it hadn't taken long for them to become attached to the hip.

     Her abuela, Gloriana, had taken her out for ice cream, even though it was freezing cold and snowing outside that night. Her mother and father had taken her brothers, Milo, Colby, and Frankie, home for the evening— allowing her to stay out with her maternal grandmother as a treat.

     The moment happened a few minutes after they had ordered their sugary and sweet treats, the two of them the only ones in the parlor.

     Her abuelita had leaned over to whisper in her ear, calling her my love in her usual sweet and calm, honey like voice; asking if Rose wanted to know a secret about herself, that not even she, herself, knew.

     Gloriana had pulled her close, into her tight and warm, loving embrace; cradling her close to her heart. "Mi amor, you may not realize it yet," she whispered to a young Rosalie, eyes wide with excitement and anticipation. "But I see it in you— your heart is big enough for more than one. You'll be able to love them both."

     She had been so confused, how could her heart be so big when she was so small? She had told her grandmother that she didn't understand, and she truly didn't at all. How could her abuela know something about herself that she didn't even know?

     "—but abuela, how could I..." Gloriana had swiped ice cream residue away from the corners of Rosalie's mouth, and grinned, eyes sparkling in the midst of the night and the dimly lit shop.

     "Baby, when it comes down to it, you'll know. Girls are just as important as boys in your life."

     She didn't understand her abuela at the time, but the only girl she could think of being important to her, was Lara Jean— and that must have been the start, right?