PETER KAVINSKY one shots + imagines

Going Home

Hi! This chapter is dedicated to @user49730743 for the beautiful comment that totally made me squeal and jump up and down. <3 Your kind words meant so much to me! 

This one is from Lara Jean's point of view. It is set in the future, when she is attending college. 

Word count : 2540

My mother told us never to go to college with a boyfriend. (But if you were dating Peter Kavinsky, you would decide to bend the rules, too, of course.)

When I was accepted at Boston, and Peter got a lacrosse scholarship at Oregon State, neither of us wanted to end things. But we also couldn't turn down the amazing opportunities we had worked so hard for.

"Three-thousand, one hundred and eight," Peter had muttered one morning, on the car ride to school. (I never did get better at driving.) 

"What?" I had asked, glancing over at him. He was biting his lip, glancing in the rear view mirror as he switched lanes. It had been a cloudy morning. Chilly. I had forgotten my jacket on the hook in my room. Peter had lent me his, and I still have it, tucked in with the rest of my clothes in my dorm. 

"Three-thousand, one hundred and eight miles. If you go to Boston." Peter sighed, as if the mere thought of 3,108 miles made his head spin. It definitely made mine. 

Then it was five weeks later, and everything was packed up. 

"I'll video chat you every night," I had promised, walking across my room. I had just zipped my suitcase, and Peter was laying on my bed, surveying the now-empty room.

"I never thought it would get this clean," he whispered, glancing at the floor. "I never knew the carpet was blue," he joked, and I sat down next to him. Slowly, he pulled me into his arms, and we just laid there. 

I can still remember the feeling of his heart beat under my head, and the tingle of his fingers stroking the ends of my hair. 

I couldn't break up with him. I needed him too much. 

Peter was close enough to drive home every weekend to see his mom and brother, and Kitty called me every night. 

Boston was beautiful, and I quickly fell in love with the city. The North End pastries, the snow, even the traffic. It was becoming home.

Peter and I tried to video chat every night, but we were busy people. 

"I love you," he said one night. He was sitting on his dorm bed in his pajamas.

"I love you, too." Even though we'd said it before, it still made me feel warm inside. 

"Yo dude, who is that?" I heard someone in the back round call, and then a curly haired-head appeared on the screen.

Peter shoved his friend away, and I just laughed. But it was just a permanent reminder: we were living different lives across the country with different people. We hadn't been together in months. Things were changing.

And now, it was nearly Christmas. I was going home. And I knew I should be excited. Peter was picking me up from the airport, and we would hug for the first time in months. We would kiss. We would be able to hold hands. We'd be near each other again. 

But instead, I felt sick. Because I was planning on doing something that would make me feel terrible before I could ever try to feel okay again. 

But I had to do it. I had to.

As I picked up my luggage off the belt and headed for the meeting area, I heard him. 

"COVEY! LARA JEAN COVEY!"