˗ˏˋ DISTRACTION, PETER KAVINSKY ˎˊ˗

˗ˏˋ THREE, REWRITTEN ˎˊ˗

SHE CAN'T ESCAPE PETER KAVINSKY, he's simply everywhere she looks. Rosalie's had the misfortune of bumping into the boy the whole weekend— from standing behind him in line at Frozen Freddie's, the local ice cream parlor, on Friday night, to quite literally walking into him on Saturday at the theater. She's watched him pass by all weekend, him even acknowledging her at the GameStop at the mall.

Sunday would be no different; because that afternoon, right before Rosalie's supposed to go on her lunch break is when Peter walks into her abuelita and her aunt Moira's vintage-thrift shop.

How her maternal grandmother and her father's sister got into doing business together still confuses her, along with the theme of the clothing shop that seemed to be popular amongst her age. The store thrived, even in its mix-matched confusing-ness, but that's something Rosalie didn't care to question.

What she actually did care to question was why the Kavinsky boy seems to be actively seeking her out, when he's mentioned multiple times that he's not interested in her.

"What a surprise... Peter Kavinsky... Again... What is this? The seventh time I've seen you this weekend?" Rosalie has a pleasant smile on her face, but her tone is anything but. Peter only grins back at her, amused and stepping up to the counter to get closer. Rosalie throws down the pen she had been holding, pushing both it and the pad of paper away from her. She was sure she wouldn't be getting much work down when Peter was there, acting like a creep and bothering her.

Peter may have been acting creepy that weekend, but Rosalie almost forgives it for the way he looks at the moment. He's a sight to behold, with the light from the windows seeping from behind him. He's wearing another long-sleeve, with a small logo on the shoulder, and it's pushed up to his forearms. The afternoon light seems to brighten the shirt, and the warm brown of his tousled and slightly curled hair. September afternoons suit him well, but Rosalie can't help but imagine what he would look like under a March sunrise or an August sunset.

There's multiple woven bracelets, some of them obviously old and worn-out from years of adornment, and her eyes fall back to his forearms. It was just something weird that only happened with Peter Kavinsky— her eyes always falling back to his arms.

Peter Kavinsky looks good, but Rosalie Garcia looks better.

She dons a flowy and off-the-shoulder sundress, subtly floral with the color of sunshine yellow brightening her complexion. It stops at her mid-thigh, and the small white wedges she wears remind her of a similar pair she saw in a magazine's perfume advertisement; the model walking throughout Greece in them.

Her long brunette hair is down and parted in the middle, and the small pearl earrings she wears had been bought at the shop his mother owns. Rosalie's only got a layer of mascara and chapstick on, and she wonders if he's ever seen her with so little makeup on.

"Garcia."

"Kavinsky."

There's a moment of silence that passes between the two of them, before they both start talking at once. It comes out as a jumble of words, Rosalie and Peter both stopping— silence returning.

"...you wanna go first, or?" Rosalie offers, and Peter shakes his head.

"No worries, go ahead..." He allows her to take control of the conversation, and she presses her lips in a thin line, displeased.

"I was going to say, did you have anything you wanted to talk about or are you just here to stare at me?" Rosalie questions, glancing down at the sales report she was working on moments earlier. She wonders if he would mind if she worked on it while they talked— although, she thinks it would be considered rude.