That City Girl (ShadAmy)

The Tangled Web We Weave

STH © SEGA

Sarah, Peter, Samwell, Rosemary & the Wilson Family © Cozy Shadow

Flame, Petunia, Jeffery, and Sunny © Phantomask (on FF)

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Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Tangled Web We Weave

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Caffeine. Oh, how his body rejected it.

While it made others go absolutely crazy, the caffeine only made the feline more tired than he already was. But it helped the headache. Peter stood at the kitchen counter with the cup of coffee.

It was Saturday.

Thank God. I mean, I love teaching - it's great. Those kids are a blast and hilarious at times - so curious and smart - but five days in a row with them is more than I can sometimes handle.

That and having to go out late at night to fulfill a crazy man's plans wasn't typical for most.

Peter sighed, watching his girlfriend from the kitchen. Sally was already up and at 'em. She had been up since five - it was now seven. How she did it, he didn't know. At least, how she woke up early on a weekend. He was used to waking up early to get to work on time - he lived further away after all.

I couldn't do that to the glorious weekend given to me, though. Sleeping in is like a ritual that needs to be carried out.

Rubbing his eyes, Peter yawned.

He listened to the clicking of the keyboard as she typed away. From his spot, his vision told him that she was writing an email to one of the journalists in town that had kept bugging her. Peter watched the screen lazily.

While from his spot, a normal person wouldn't be able to see the words on the screen or be able to tell what she was doing. Peter used his gifts on a normal basis, however. Most times, it didn't even feel like a power to him. He used it so often that it had become second nature to him to practically look over Sally's shoulder from several feet away.

"What'cha doin'?"

"Don't pretend like you don't know," Sally snorted. She reached for her mug that was placed neatly on the desk in the living room. Taking a sip from her mug, she glanced over at her boyfriend with a playful look.

A corner of his mouth lifted. "Yeah. What pesky journalist is it this time?"

"Ugh, don't get me started." She waved the situation off. "Why don't you go and enjoy the weekend or something? You know I'm going to be here doing this all day."

"Eh, I don't know what to do," Peter shrugged in disappointment. What a beautiful day - and he had nothing to do.

"You could go get groceries later. We're running out of a milk."

"Of course we are," Peter mumbled as he took into account of how much milk he drank. It was a lot. Like too much.

"And eggs. You used them all up last night."

"I did?" He barely remembered coming home last night - much less making eggs for dinner.

"Yeah. I think you stopped off at the bar. Smelled like some strong whiskey, good sir."

Right. The bar. I forgot about that.

"Oh..." he looked down at the counter, pursing his lips.

"You told me that you wouldn't drive drunk again."

"I didn't...think I was drunk."

Sally positioned her whole body towards him, focusing her attention on him now. "You don't even remember last night, do you, Peter?"