#peter lyman

[mcrdvcks]

—what is this feeling?

summary: You and Peter have known each other since you were kids—only because you were friends with his distant cousin Olivia. While you have harbored a crush on him for years, you're sure he doesn't feel the same.

word count: 16.2k+ (31.6k+ total)

pairing: Peter Lyman x fem!reader

notes: i watched scoop (2006) for the first time a week-ish ago and i needed to write something with peter. it's kinda canon to the movie—in the sense that it follows a tiny bit of the story, mainly just the parties that were shown.

this was actually a bit hard to write, i kept second guessing myself wondering if i got his character right or not. i hope i did, bc this is a roller coaster. and also, be sure to look at the tags, because when i say toxic peter lyman, i mean it. and please don't ask how this is 32k words, i have no idea how it happened 😅

since it is so long, there are two parts to this since tumblr has a word limit!

warnings/tags: loosely follows event of scoop (2006) but not canon, miscommunication, shy!reader, slow burn, jealousy, angst, mention of murder/death, toxic peter lyman, but also sweet peter lyman (the duality of man), happy ending, not proofread

⁠♡ part 2 ♡

You looked away from the mirror at your friend Olivia, who just got off the phone. “I’m sorry. I can’t go tonight. My boss just called about a work emergency and it’s all hands-on deck.”

“Oh.” You replied, setting down your lipstick, one you thankfully hadn’t applied yet. “Well, I guess I’ll get out of your hair and go back to my pla—”

Olivia gasped, holding you by the shoulders. “What? No, you’re going to that concert.”

Your eyebrows rose and you stuttered, “but—”

She cut you off with a grin, “c’mon, it’ll give you time to bond with Peter.” Olivia drawled.

You felt your cheeks heat up, “I don’t…” You trailed off, looking away from her and focusing on the wall behind her. There was a small blotch of white paint on her tan wall.

“You’ve spent a lot of time with him. Ever since we were kids.”

"Yeah, but he’s your cousin," you interjected, hoping Olivia would drop it.

Olivia rolled her eyes, squeezing your shoulders for emphasis. “Seriously, Y/N, it’s Peter. He’s nice, he likes you, and you’ve been to a million family things with him. What’s the big deal?”

You frowned, shaking her hands off. “It’s different, okay? You’re usually there, or someone else is. I don’t—I just feel awkward when it’s just the two of us.”

She gave you a knowing smirk, leaning against the doorframe. “Awkward, huh? Or are you worried you’ll stutter every time he so much as looks at you?”

“I don’t—” you started to protest, but Olivia laughed.

“You do. You totally do.”

You crossed your arms, cheeks burning. “Can we not do this right now? I’ll just tell him you can’t make it, and we’ll both skip—problem solved.”

Olivia groaned and grabbed her coat. “Nope, not happening. He’s already on his way to pick us up. You’re going. You’re putting on that lipstick. And you’re going to sit through the concert without spontaneously combusting.”

“Liv!” you whined, but she just winked, swinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Have fun!” she chirped, then disappeared out the door before you could come up with a good excuse to chase her down.

---

Peter arrived about fifteen minutes later, sharp as ever in a tailored black coat and that impossibly confident smile. You opened the door, trying not to feel self-conscious under his gaze.

“Y/N,” he greeted warmly. “Ready for the evening?”

“Uh, yeah,” you stammered, stepping aside to let him in. “Liv had a work thing come up, so it’s just, um… us.”

He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise passing over his face before he nodded. “Shame she can’t make it. But I suppose it’ll give us a chance to catch up.”

You managed a small smile, grabbing your coat. “Right. Catch up.”

---

The car ride to the concert hall was quiet, save for Peter’s occasional remarks about the evening’s program. He seemed perfectly at ease, while you stared out the window, hyper-aware of how close you were sitting.

When the car stopped, Peter stepped out first, offering you a hand as you climbed out. “You’ve been here before, haven’t you?” he asked, gesturing to the grand concert hall.

“A few times,” you replied, trying to sound casual. “It’s always… impressive.”

He smiled. “Wait until you hear tonight’s performance. It’s one of my favorites.”

---

Inside, you settled into your seats—side by side, of course. The lights dimmed, and the orchestra began to tune, the hum of violins filling the air. Peter leaned closer, his voice low.

“Do you know this piece?”

You turned to him, surprised by how close he was. “Not really. Should I?”

He chuckled softly. “I think you’ll like it. Very dramatic.”

You nodded, quickly looking back at the stage, but you could feel his eyes on you for a moment longer before he leaned back into his seat.

---

At intermission, you both stood in the crowded foyer, surrounded by elegant couples sipping champagne. Peter handed you a glass, his expression thoughtful.

“So,” he said, “how are you finding it so far? Be honest.”

“It’s… really beautiful,” you admitted, fidgeting with the stem of your glass. “I don’t usually go to things like this, but it’s nice.”

He studied you for a moment, then smiled. “You’ve always been good at appreciating the little things. It’s one of the things I’ve always liked about you.”

You nearly choked on your sip of champagne, glancing up at him in surprise. “Oh. Um… thank you.”

Peter’s smile widened, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “You don’t need to look so startled, Y/N. It’s just a compliment.”

“Right,” you said quickly, cheeks heating up again. “Of course. Thanks.”

He tilted his head slightly, as if trying to figure you out. “You’re adorable when you’re nervous, you know that?”

“I—what?” you stammered, but before you could finish, the bell chimed, signaling the end of intermission.

Peter offered his arm, his tone light but teasing. “Shall we?”

You hesitated for a moment, then looped your arm through his, your heart pounding as you followed him back to your seats.

---

Once the concert was over, Peter led you out of the concert hall, his hand resting lightly at the small of your back. The crowd thinned as the night air hit your face, crisp and cool compared to the warmth inside. His car waited at the curb, sleek and polished, and he opened the door for you without hesitation.

“Still enjoying yourself?” he asked once you were both seated, his tone light.

“Yes,” you replied, glancing at him. “It was… really amazing. Thank you for inviting me.”

He gave a small, thoughtful smile, his hands resting loosely on the steering wheel. “I’m glad you came. I was afraid I’d be sitting through it alone tonight.”

The comment was harmless, but you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering—was that why he hadn’t seemed to mind Olivia’s absence? You pushed the thought aside, unsure what to say, and instead watched the city lights blur through the window.

---

When the car pulled up in front of your apartment building, Peter stepped out quickly, coming around to open your door. You murmured a quiet “thank you” as you stepped out, feeling the weight of his presence beside you. He walked you to the building’s entrance, his movements effortlessly graceful as always.

“You didn’t have to walk me up,” you said softly, fumbling with your keys.

Peter raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his expression. “It’s the gentlemanly thing to do, isn’t it?”

You smiled faintly, unlocking the door and stepping inside with him close behind. The elevator ride was silent, though you caught him glancing at you once or twice. Your heart felt like it was lodged in your throat by the time you reached your floor.

When you reached your apartment door, you turned to face him, unsure how to say goodnight without sounding awkward. Peter beat you to it.

“Tonight was lovely,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “You were good company.”

“Thanks,” you said, heat rushing to your face. “You too.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Peter’s expression softened, his tone casual but warm. “You don’t have to feel obligated to say yes every time Olivia drags you along, you know. I’d hate to think you’re going to these things just because you feel like you should.”

Your chest tightened. Was he saying he thought you didn’t want to be here? That you’d only come because Olivia wasn’t around to take your place? You forced a polite smile, ignoring the strange twist in your stomach.

“I don’t mind,” you said lightly, hoping it sounded convincing. “It’s always nice to catch up.”

Peter smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “Good. Then… goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight,” you replied softly, watching as he turned and walked back toward the elevator. You stood there for a moment, listening to the faint hum of the elevator descending before you finally stepped inside your apartment and leaned against the door.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, your thoughts spinning. Did you just get friendzoned? You shook your head, groaning under your breath. “Don’t overthink it,” you muttered to yourself, but the knot in your chest didn’t budge.

---

The next morning, Olivia burst into your apartment, barely waiting for you to open the door. “Well? How was it?” she asked, her grin wide as she plopped onto your couch.

You blinked, still holding your mug of coffee. “Uh, it was fine.”

“Fine?” she repeated, narrowing her eyes. “You went to the Philharmonic with Peter Lyman, and all you’ve got for me is ‘fine’? No way. Spill.”

You sighed, setting your mug on the table and sitting down across from her. “It was fine. He was polite, as always, and we had a nice time. But…” You hesitated, staring at your hands.

“But?” Olivia prompted, leaning forward eagerly.

“I think he sees me as, like, your friend who tags along to family stuff. He made some comment about not feeling obligated to go to these things, like I only went because you couldn’t.”

Olivia frowned. “What? That doesn’t sound like Peter.”

“Maybe not, but that’s how it came across,” you said, shrugging. “It’s fine. I didn’t expect anything else.”

She tilted her head, studying you. “You’re not seriously going to let one weird comment freak you out, are you?”

“I’m not freaking out,” you replied quickly, though the heat in your face said otherwise. “I just… I don’t want to make things awkward.”

“Y/N,” Olivia said, crossing her arms. “Peter’s not an idiot. If he said that, he probably didn’t mean it the way you’re taking it.”

You shook your head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

“Thanks,” you muttered, but she just laughed.

“Don’t worry,” she said, standing up. “If I know Peter, he’ll figure it out eventually.” She paused, giving you a sly grin. “In the meantime, maybe try not to overthink it.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands as she left the room.

---

A week later, you and Olivia had a movie night at your place, and old romcom she loved in the DVD player.

You had your legs tucked under you, barely focusing on the movie before gaining enough courage to face her. “Liv? Do you think… well—you, I got…”

She took her gaze away from the TV. “Hmm. Could be anything that’s got you stuttering like that.” She grabbed your hand, giving it a squeeze. “Okay. Spill.”

You took a deep breath, blurting out, “Joshua asked me on a date.”

Olivia sat up straighter, grabbing the remote and pausing the movie. “Joshua? Like Lord Beckett’s youngest son? That Joshua?”

You squirmed under her gaze. “Yeah. Apparently, he works as a journalist. He came over to the firm and was interviewing my boss.”

Olivia blinked, then leaned back with an exaggerated laugh. “Oh my God, that’s rich. Joshua Beckett, out of nowhere, asking you out?” She shook her head in disbelief. “How’d he even swing that?”

You frowned. “I mean, he was… nice? Polite? We just talked for a bit after his meeting, and then—bam—he asked.”

Olivia smirked. “Did you say yes?”

“Well, yeah. I didn’t want to be rude,” you admitted, your voice shrinking.

She threw a pillow at you. “What the hell, Y/N? This isn’t ‘polite conversation’ territory—it’s a date! You can’t just agree because you don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings.”

“I didn’t know how to say no!” you shot back, clutching the pillow to your chest. “He caught me off guard. And honestly, he seemed… fine?”

“Fine,” Olivia deadpanned. “High praise, as always.”

You sighed. “Look, it’s just one dinner. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Olivia squinted at you like she didn’t buy it for a second. “Right. And this has nothing to do with Peter, huh?”

Your stomach flipped, and you quickly avoided her gaze. “This has nothing to do with Peter.”

“Uh-huh,” Olivia said knowingly. “So, when’s this casual, meaningless dinner happening?”

“Friday,” you mumbled.

“Friday,” she repeated with a hum, then grinned slyly. “Guess who’s getting a phone call.”

You looked at her in alarm. “No! You’re not calling Peter!”

“Oh, I’m not?” she teased, already reaching for her phone.

“Liv, I swear—”

“Relax, I’m kidding!” she said with a laugh, setting her phone aside. “But seriously, Y/N… Joshua? You’re going to have to explain that one to me.”

You groaned, flopping back against the couch. “I don’t know, okay? I panicked. It’s not like Peter’s lining up to ask me out, anyway.”

Olivia’s smirk softened into something more thoughtful. “Peter’s… complicated,” she said after a moment. “But you know he cares about you, right? I mean, he wouldn’t—”

You cut her off, shaking your head. “Let’s not do this. I can’t think about Peter and… whatever this is. Not when I’m already overthinking everything else.”

Olivia hesitated but eventually nodded. “Fine. But for the record, I don’t think you’re overthinking. I think you’re underthinking Peter.”

You groaned again, burying your face in the pillow. “Can we just finish the movie?”

“Sure,” she said, grabbing the remote. But as she pressed play, she muttered under her breath, “You’re totally underthinking it.”

---

Peter glanced at Olivia, who was reclining with a magazine in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, her legs crossed lazily. The faint echoes of splashing water and the quiet hum of conversation filled the air around the indoor pool.

“Perhaps you’d like to come to the garden party Father is throwing on Sunday,” Peter said, his voice casual as he stretched his arms.

Olivia glanced up briefly. “Sure, sounds nice. Is it the usual crowd?”

Peter nodded, stepping to the edge of the pool. “More or less. Family, some of Father’s associates. Nothing too overwhelming.” He paused, his tone shifting just slightly. “Will Y/N be coming?”

Olivia raised an eyebrow, setting down her tea. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ll ask her after her date tonight.”

Peter froze, mid-step, before lowering himself to sit at the pool’s edge. “Date?” His voice was calm, but the word lingered in the air.

“Yeah, with Joshua Beckett,” Olivia said nonchalantly, flipping a page in her magazine. “You know, Lord Beckett’s youngest. He ran into her at work and asked her out. She said yes.”

Peter’s expression didn’t falter, though his fingers tapped lightly against his knee. “Joshua Beckett,” he repeated, as though testing the name on his tongue.

“Mhm,” Olivia said, still focused on her magazine. “Journalist. Apparently, he’s charming. She didn’t seem overly excited, though.”

“Hmm.” Peter slipped into the pool gracefully, the water rippling around him. “Well, good for her. I hope it goes well.”

Olivia glanced at him over the edge of her magazine, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You sound thrilled.”

Peter’s lips twitched in a polite smile, though he avoided her gaze. “Just being supportive.”

Olivia snorted, setting her magazine aside and standing up. “Right. Well, I’m off to the spa. I need a massage after this long week. Don’t drown or anything.”

Peter waved a hand as he began a slow backstroke. “Enjoy your massage.”

“Thanks,” Olivia said breezily, heading for the door. “Oh, and I’ll let you know if Y/N decides to come on Sunday.”

Peter didn’t reply, his focus seemingly on the water, though his strokes became a little sharper, his movements a touch less fluid. When Olivia was gone, he exhaled slowly, staring up at the high ceiling.

“Joshua Beckett,” he muttered to himself, his voice low and contemplative, before diving underwater.

---

You and Olivia walked through the hedges into the garden area, where small tables were set up and people already mingling.

“Do you think they have those finger sandwiches I like?” you asked Olivia, scanning the tables set up around the garden. Your voice was quieter than usual, the low hum of polite chatter filling the air.

“I’m sure they do,” Olivia replied, smirking. “I mean, Peter’s father wouldn’t dare host a garden party without catering to your very specific sandwich preferences, right?”

You rolled your eyes, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “You’re hilarious.”

“Always,” she said, giving you a quick pat on the shoulder before her eyes drifted to the side. “Oh, speaking of Peter—there he is. He looks like he’s on host duty already.”

Before you could turn, Olivia raised a hand, waving him over.

Peter approached with his usual effortless confidence, a light smile on his face. His suit was perfectly tailored—charcoal gray, understated but sharp—and he moved with the ease of someone who had never once felt out of place in a crowd.

“Olivia,” he greeted warmly. “Y/N.” His gaze flicked to you, lingering just a second longer than necessary. “Glad you could both make it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Olivia said, grinning. “I already saw the sandwiches, by the way. You’ve kept Y/N’s favorites. Excellent hosting.”

Peter chuckled softly. “Of course. Wouldn’t dream of disappointing.” He shifted slightly, his eyes scanning the immediate area. “Where’s she gone?”

Olivia blinked and glanced beside her, only to realize you were no longer there. “Wait, what? She was just—”

Peter raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Impressive. That might be the quickest escape yet.”

“She does that sometimes,” Olivia said, sighing dramatically. “It’s like she’s made of smoke or something. Well, I’m sure she hasn’t gone far. I’ll catch up with her in a bit.”

Peter gave a polite nod, though his gaze was already moving past her, scanning the clusters of guests. “No need. I’ll find her.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and disappeared into the garden’s maze of tables and guests.

---

You were standing by one of the smaller tables, a tiny plate in hand, already nibbling on a finger sandwich. You’d ducked out as soon as Peter walked over—not because you didn’t want to talk to him, but because it was always a little overwhelming when he was around. Somehow, he managed to be both incredibly easy to talk to and completely impossible to read at the same time.

The garden was peaceful, at least. You focused on the sounds of the birds and the clinking glasses, taking a moment to settle your nerves.

“Enjoying yourself?”

You jumped slightly at the sound of Peter’s voice, almost dropping your plate. He stood just a few steps away, his hands casually tucked into his pockets.

“I—uh—yes,” you stammered, quickly wiping your mouth with a napkin. “I was just…” You gestured vaguely to the table of food.

“Finding the sandwiches, I see,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah,” you admitted, glancing down at the one in your hand. “They’re really good.”

“I’m glad,” Peter replied, stepping closer. “I’ll have to thank the caterer for getting them just right. Though, knowing you, you probably would’ve just been polite if they weren’t.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his observation. “Well, I mean… it’s not like I’d complain.”

He chuckled, his gaze steady on you. “No, you wouldn’t. But I’m glad they’re up to your standards.”

There was a beat of silence, the kind that felt heavy despite the lightness of the conversation. You fidgeted slightly, unsure what to say, until Peter spoke again.

“Did you enjoy your date?”

Your eyes snapped up to meet his, startled. “What?”

Peter stood much closer than before, his expression casual, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity. “Your date,” he said smoothly, as if it were the most natural topic in the world. “With Joshua Beckett. Olivia mentioned it.”

You ducked your head, suddenly finding your plate very interesting. “Oh, right. That. It was fine.”

“Fine,” Peter repeated, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Such high praise.”

You looked up, narrowing your eyes slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He tilted his head slightly, his tone light. “Nothing at all. Just… ‘fine’ doesn’t exactly scream thrilling success.”

“Well, it wasn’t a disaster,” you said defensively, clutching your plate tighter. “He was nice.”

“Nice,” Peter echoed, his tone amused. “That’s the second glowing endorsement.”

“Peter,” you sighed, finally meeting his gaze. “What are you getting at?”

He paused, studying you for a moment before responding. “I’m just curious. You don’t usually go out with people like Joshua.”

Your brow furrowed. “People like Joshua? What does that even mean?”

“Well,” he began, his voice as smooth as ever, “he’s the youngest son of a very ambitious family. Polished, charming, likely quite used to getting what he wants.”

“So… people like you,” you countered without thinking, then froze, immediately regretting it. “I mean—uh, not that you—just that—”

Peter laughed softly, the sound low and rich. “Touché.”

You pressed your lips together, looking down at your sandwich. “For the record, he didn’t get what he wanted.”

His brows lifted in mild surprise. “Oh?”

You shifted uncomfortably. “I told him I wasn’t interested in a second date.”

There was a pause, and when you glanced up, Peter’s expression was unreadable. “I see.”

Before you could decipher his tone, he straightened, glancing past you. “Excuse me a moment,” Peter said, his tone as smooth as ever. He stepped around you, heading toward the two new people with an effortless grace.

You turned, following his line of sight. A young woman with straight blonde hair and wiry glasses stood by the tables with an older man wearing a copper blazer.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his attention. Before you could process it, Olivia appeared at your side, holding a glass of sparkling water.

“Who’s he off to save now?” she asked, smirking as she handed you the glass.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, nodding toward the two strangers. “They just walked in, and he left to meet them.”

Olivia squinted in their direction, taking a sip of her drink. “Hmm. They don’t look like the usual crowd. Maybe business?”

“Could be,” you murmured, watching as Peter shook hands with the older man before gesturing toward the house.

“Should we ask?” Olivia teased, nudging your arm.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “It’s probably something private. Let’s just stay out of it.”

Olivia grinned knowingly. “Right, because that’s exactly what we’re doing by standing here and staring.”

You sighed, looking away from the scene. “I’m just curious, okay? It’s not like I’m going to eavesdrop.”

“Sure,” Olivia said, clearly unconvinced.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Peter lead the two guests toward the house. His hand rested lightly on the small of the blonde woman’s back as they disappeared into the crowd. You tried not to let it bother you, but Olivia didn’t miss the way your grip on your glass tightened.

“Who’s jealous now?” she muttered under her breath.

“I’m not jealous,” you replied quickly, though your tone betrayed you.

“Uh-huh,” Olivia said, smirking. “Well, if you’re not going to ask, I will.”

Before you could stop her, she turned and started following the trio.

“Olivia, wait—” you called after her, but she waved a hand dismissively over her shoulder.

---

A few minutes later, Olivia reappeared, her expression a mix of curiosity and amusement. She found you lingering near the garden’s edge, nervously sipping your drink.

“So, I have news,” she announced, leaning against a tree.

“Olivia,” you groaned. “What did you do?”

“Relax,” Olivia said with a grin, casually tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I just asked Peter who they were. Turns out, the blonde is Jade Spence—some aspiring actress from Palm Beach—and her father, Mr. Spence. They’re staying with the Fultons.”

You blinked, trying not to let your curiosity show too much. “The Fultons? As in… the Fultons?”

Olivia nodded, her smirk growing. “Yup. And Peter’s apparently been playing tour guide or something. He mentioned meeting her a few days ago.”

You frowned slightly, glancing toward the house where Peter had disappeared with Jade and Mr. Spence. “Tour guide?”

Olivia shrugged, swirling the water in her glass. “Or lifeguard, maybe. He said something about saving her from drowning in the pool.”

Your head whipped around. “What?”

“I know, right? So dramatic,” Olivia said with a laugh. “Apparently, it was this whole thing. She was swimming alone, started panicking, and Peter swooped in like the hero he is.”

You looked down, fiddling with the edge of your plate. “Well, that’s… nice of him.”

“Uh-huh,” Olivia said, giving you a pointed look. “And now he’s escorting her around garden parties. Very hands-on for a guy who’s usually so… you know. Detached.”

Your stomach churned uncomfortably, but you forced a nonchalant tone. “Maybe he’s just being polite. She’s staying with the Fultons, after all.”

“Polite?” Olivia echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Y/N, Peter doesn’t do polite for strangers. He’s always charming, but this is different. He’s… interested.”

You felt your chest tighten, but you quickly shook your head. “It’s probably nothing. She’s just visiting, and he’s being a good host.”

Olivia studied you for a moment, her smirk fading. “You know, you’re allowed to be annoyed.”

“I’m not annoyed,” you said quickly, but your voice wavered just enough for Olivia to catch it.

“Right,” she said, crossing her arms. “Because you’re totally fine with Peter playing Prince Charming for a random blonde from Florida.”

You frowned. “What do you want me to say, Olivia? It’s not like Peter and I—” You cut yourself off, your cheeks burning.

Olivia leaned in, her voice low but teasing. “Not like you what? C’mon, Y/N, finish that sentence.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Forget it.”

“Nope, not forgetting it,” Olivia said, pulling your hands away. “Listen, I’m not saying you need to storm the house and stake a claim or whatever. But if Peter’s trying to make you jealous, it’s working.”

You blinked at her. “You think he’s doing this on purpose?”

"Could be. I mean, Peter’s smart. He knows what he’s doing," Olivia said with a shrug, her eyes glinting mischievously.

You snorted, shaking your head. "That’s ridiculous. Why would he try to make me jealous? He doesn’t even like me like that."

Olivia tilted her head, giving you an exasperated look. "You seriously believe that?"

"Yes," you said firmly, though your voice wavered slightly. "Peter’s always been polite, maybe a little flirty, but that’s just how he is with everyone. He doesn’t—" You stopped yourself, suddenly self-conscious.

"He doesn’t what?" Olivia pressed, leaning closer with that knowing smirk.

You rolled your eyes and sighed. "He doesn’t see me that way, okay? I’m just… his cousin’s friend. The tagalong at family stuff. That’s it."

Olivia’s smirk dropped, replaced by something softer. "Y/N, you’re seriously blind if you don’t think he’s at least interested."

You bit your lip, fidgeting with your drink. "It doesn’t matter. Even if he were—which he’s not—he’s clearly more interested in Jade right now."

Olivia snorted. "Jade Spence? Are you kidding? That’s just Peter being Peter. I bet he swooped in to ‘save’ her and now feels obligated to play the perfect host."

"Or maybe he actually likes her," you muttered, barely audible.

Olivia stared at you for a beat before sighing dramatically. "You’re exhausting, you know that? The guy practically lights up every time you’re in the room, and you’re over here acting like he’s planning a wedding with some random actress from Florida."

You opened your mouth to respond, but Olivia cut you off, pointing her finger at you. "Nope. Don’t even argue. If you’re too stubborn to see it, fine. But mark my words, Y/N—he’s not into Jade. He’s into you."

"That’s insane," you said quickly, brushing past her toward the refreshments table. "You’re reading way too much into this."

"Am I?" Olivia called after you, clearly enjoying herself. "Guess we’ll see."

---

Later that day when you got back to your apartment, you walked over to the rotary phone and dialed the number.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Joshua. I know I said I wasn’t interested in a second date, but—well, if you were, not that you have to…”

You cringed, gripping the phone cord tightly as silence filled the line. Then, Joshua’s warm voice came through, as composed as ever.

“Y/N, hi. I wasn’t expecting this, but… I’d love to. If you’re sure?”

You glanced at the clock on the wall, your stomach twisting with nerves. “Yeah, I mean… I thought maybe I judged too quickly last time. You’re really nice, and it wasn’t fair to just—”

“Don’t overthink it,” Joshua interrupted gently. “How about Friday? Dinner at that Italian place by the park?”

“Sure,” you replied quickly, your voice higher-pitched than usual. “Friday sounds good.”

“Great,” he said, his tone genuinely warm. “I’ll call to confirm. I’m glad you changed your mind, Y/N.”

You hung up, staring at the phone for a moment before groaning. “What am I doing?”

---

By the time Friday rolled around, Olivia had found out about the second date, of course.

“I can’t believe you called him,” she said, draped across your bed as you picked through your closet. “It’s like you’re trying to drive yourself crazy.”

“I didn’t call him to drive myself crazy,” you shot back, holding up a simple black dress. “I called because—”

“Because you were spiraling after seeing Peter with Jade Spence,” Olivia finished smugly.

You turned toward her with a glare. “That’s not why.”

“Right,” she said, sitting up and smirking. “So why is it, then?”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “Maybe I just don’t want to waste a chance with someone who’s nice to me.”

Olivia snorted. “Nice? Joshua Beckett is nice? That’s the bar now?”

You sighed, tossing the dress on the bed. “He’s not just nice. He’s smart, and he listens, and—”

“And he’s not Peter,” Olivia interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

“Liv,” you groaned.

“Okay, okay,” she said, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “Wear the black dress. He’ll like it. Or whatever.”

---

While you went on your date with Joshua, Olivia went to the party Peter was hosting at his place. When she entered, Peter looked at the door and grabbed two glasses of champagne. “Ah, Olivia.” They kissed each other’s cheeks as a greeting. The door closed behind her causing Peter to glance over at the now shut door. “Where is Y/N? She’s not sick again, is she?”

Olivia shrugged off her coat handing it to the waiter with a thanks. “Oh, no. She’s on a date with Joshua.” She grabbed both glasses from Peter’s hands, one clearly meant for you.

Peter’s expression didn’t change immediately, but his fingers tightened into a momentary fist. “Joshua,” he said slowly, his tone neutral. “I see.”

Olivia sipped from one of the glasses she’d swiped, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “Yup. Second date. She called him, actually. Kind of a bold move for Y/N, don’t you think?”

“Very bold,” Peter replied, his voice calm but clipped. “I thought she wasn’t interested.”

Olivia shrugged, her lips curling into a sly smile. “She changed her mind. Or maybe someone made her change her mind.”

Peter’s gaze flicked toward her, sharp as glass. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” Olivia said innocently, taking another sip. “Just that she seemed a little… distracted after your garden party. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“Of course not,” Peter said smoothly, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes. “I didn’t realize I had such influence over her decision-making.”

Olivia tilted her head, studying him. “You know, for someone who’s supposedly indifferent, you seem awfully interested in her dating life.”

Peter’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. “She’s your friend. Naturally, I’m curious.”

“Right,” Olivia drawled, clearly enjoying herself. “Well, if you’re so curious, maybe you should ask her about it. Or better yet, tell her why it bothers you so much.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” Peter said, his tone cool. “She’s free to make her own choices.”

“Uh-huh,” Olivia replied, giving him a knowing look. “So, you’re totally fine with her going out with a guy like Joshua Beckett? Polished, ambitious, very… not you?”

Peter’s lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. “What an interesting way to phrase it.”

“Just calling it like I see it,” Olivia said lightly. She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “You know, Peter, you could just admit you like her. Might save everyone a lot of time.”

Peter didn’t answer immediately, his gaze drifting toward the door. “I think I’ll fetch another drink,” he said finally. “Excuse me.”

“Running away?” Olivia teased, but Peter was already walking off, his steps measured and deliberate.

---

“He was actually quite nice. And he likes math and sci-fi movies,” you said, plopping down onto Olivia’s couch.

Olivia leaned against the armrest, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Math and sci-fi movies? Be still my heart. Did he also show you his extensive collection of pocket protectors?”

You frowned, tossing a throw pillow at her. “I’m serious! He’s smart, and… I don’t know, easy to talk to.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, dodging the pillow effortlessly. “And yet, here you are, talking to me about him like he’s your neighbor’s golden retriever. You’re trying too hard to sell it, Y/N.”

“I’m not trying to sell anything,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “It was a nice date. That’s it.”

Olivia raised an eyebrow. “Did you agree to another one?”

You hesitated, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “He asked. I said I’d think about it.”

“There it is,” Olivia said, sitting up straight. “You’re not even sure, are you?”

“It’s not like that,” you protested weakly.

“It’s exactly like that,” she shot back. “You’re trying to convince yourself he’s interesting because—oh, let me guess—Peter has you in knots.”

You sighed heavily, rubbing your temples. “Why does everything always come back to Peter with you?”

“Because you get weird whenever he’s involved!” Olivia said, throwing her hands up. “Seriously, you were fine until Jade Spence showed up with her Barbie vibes, and now you’re spiraling.”

“I am not spiraling,” you said firmly.

“Oh, please,” Olivia scoffed. “You practically ran to Joshua the second you saw Peter being nice to her. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

You glared at her. “Maybe I just wanted to see if there was something there with Joshua.”

“And?” she challenged.

You hesitated, biting your lip. “…And I don’t know.”

Olivia sighed, leaning back into the couch cushions. “Y/N, listen to me. You can go on a hundred dates with guys like Joshua, but it’s not going to change how you feel about Peter.”

“I don’t—”

“Don’t even try,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “You do. And it’s painfully obvious to anyone with eyes. So, instead of wasting your time on Mr. Math Enthusiast, maybe you should figure out what’s actually going on with Peter.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the sound of the doorbell ringing cut you off. You looked at Olivia who looked at you.

“What are you doing? Go answer it.” Olivia said.

“What—but this is your apartment!” You argued.

Olivia pushed your side, “go on!”

You stood up and made it past her before turning around. “Peter’s not at the door is he?” She shrugged, not responding. “Olivia! You—”

The doorbell rang again, pulling you out of your thoughts. Olivia waved her hand toward the door, not bothering to look away from the TV. “Go already! It’s not going to answer itself.”

Muttering under your breath, you shuffled toward the door, half-wondering why Olivia wasn’t doing this herself. You swung it open, and there he was—standing impeccably dressed in a casual button-up and dark slacks, as if he’d stepped straight out of a magazine.

“Peter?” you blurted, gripping the doorknob a little tighter than necessary. “What are you doing here?”

He offered you a polite smile, holding up a small clutch. “Olivia left this behind at the party. I thought I’d return it before it got lost in the shuffle.”

You blinked, glancing at the bag in his hand. “Oh. Right. Well, thanks for bringing it by.”

“Of course.” His voice was smooth as always, but his eyes flicked past you into the apartment. “Is Olivia in?”

“Yeah, she’s—”

“Watching TV!” Olivia called from the couch. “Bring it here, Peter. And while you’re at it, grab me a soda, would you?”

You shot her a glare over your shoulder, but Peter chuckled softly. “Should I let myself in, or…?”

“Oh, come in,” Olivia said loudly. “Y/N doesn’t bite.”

Peter stepped past you with an easy smile, and you resisted the urge to retreat to the kitchen. Instead, you followed him into the living room, your stomach doing a weird little flip as he handed Olivia the clutch.

“Your soda,” he said with a smirk, “you’ll have to get yourself.”

“Ugh, useless,” Olivia teased, but she took the bag with a grin. “Thanks, though. I’d have never remembered it.”

Peter turned back to you, his expression unreadable. “So, Y/N. How was dinner with Joshua?”

Your cheeks burned immediately. “Oh, um, it was… fine.”

“Fine,” he repeated, the faintest hint of amusement in his tone. “You use that word a lot.”

“Well, it’s a good word,” you muttered, crossing your arms.

Peter didn’t look away, his gaze steady. “I take it things went well, then?”

Before you could answer, Olivia snorted. “She’s not seeing him again, if that’s what you’re fishing for.”

“Olivia!” you hissed, glaring at her.

“What?” she said, feigning innocence. “I’m just saving time.”

Peter’s brow lifted slightly, though his expression remained calm. “Not seeing him again?” he asked, directing the question to you. “That’s surprising. He seemed like a… suitable match.”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Peter tilted his head, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Only that he seemed like someone who’d check all the right boxes.”

“Well, maybe I’m not interested in someone who just checks boxes,” you said before you could stop yourself.

Peter’s smile deepened, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. “Interesting.”

The silence stretched, thick with unspoken things, until Olivia cleared her throat dramatically. “Well, this is fun, but if no one’s grabbing me a soda, I’ll do it myself.”

She hopped off the couch, leaving you alone with Peter. You shifted awkwardly, clutching your arms. “So… thanks for bringing her bag by.”

“It was no trouble,” Peter said, his voice gentler now. “I could’ve had it sent over, but I thought it’d be nice to see you both.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “Right. Well… it’s good to see you too.”

He stepped closer, his voice dropping just slightly. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Your eyes widened. “What? I haven’t—”

“You disappeared at the garden party,” he interrupted, his tone calm but firm. “And you weren’t at my party yesterday.”

You looked down, heat creeping up your neck. “I wasn’t avoiding you. I just… had other things going on.”

“Like Joshua?” he asked, his voice sharp enough to make you flinch.

You glanced up, meeting his gaze. “Why does it matter?”

He held your gaze, his expression softening. “Maybe it doesn’t.”

The sound of the fridge door slamming broke the moment, and Olivia reappeared with a soda in hand. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” you said quickly, stepping back. “Peter was just leaving.”

Peter’s lips twitched into a small smile, but he didn’t argue. “I should be going. Thank you, Olivia.”

“Anytime,” she replied, smirking. “Bye, Peter.”

He turned to you one last time, his eyes lingering for a moment. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight,” you whispered, watching as he left.

Once the door shut, Olivia let out a low whistle. “Well, that was something.”

“Don’t,” you warned, already heading for the kitchen.

“I didn’t say anything!” Olivia called after you, her voice full of laughter. “But seriously, Y/N, you might want to think about what you’re doing.”

You groaned, opening the fridge. “What I’m doing is making tea.”

“Sure,” Olivia said lightly. “Because tea will totally solve your Peter problem.”

You slammed the fridge door shut, wishing it were that simple.

---

Joshua invited you over to a philharmonic concert. He had brought it up while he had taken you out for lunch during your break.

You accepted and now were walking through the elegant, familiar foyer of the concert hall, arm in arm with Joshua. The polished marble floors reflected the soft glow of the chandeliers, and the hum of polite conversation filled the air.

Joshua glanced at you, his smile easy. “You’ve been here before, haven’t you? You seem comfortable.”

“Once or twice,” you replied, trying not to think about the last time. With Peter.

“Ah, of course,” Joshua said lightly. “It’s one of my favorite venues. The acoustics are exceptional.”

As he spoke, your eyes caught a familiar figure just across the room. Peter. He was standing near the staircase, chatting with Jade Spence, who laughed at something he said, her hand briefly touching his arm.

You stiffened, and Joshua followed your gaze. His brow lifted slightly. “Peter Lyman. What a surprise. Didn’t expect to see him here tonight.”

Your voice was tight. “He enjoys the Philharmonic.”

Joshua chuckled softly. “Don’t we all? Come on, let’s say hello.”

“Wait—” you started, but Joshua was already steering you toward them.

Peter noticed you first. His eyes flickered from Joshua to you, his expression unreadable, though there was a subtle shift in his posture. Jade turned as well, her bright smile widening when she saw Joshua.

“Joshua Beckett,” Peter greeted smoothly, his voice carrying that effortless charm. “Good to see you.”

“Peter,” Joshua replied, shaking his hand. “And Jade Spence, of course. I heard you were in town.”

Jade’s laugh was nervous. “Uh—yes, with my father.” Her gaze shifted to you, her smile polite but curious. “And you are?”

“Y/N,” you said softly, glancing at Peter briefly. His gaze was steady, focused, and unsettlingly intense.

“Ah, yes,” Jade said, her tone light. “I think Peter mentioned you.”

Your stomach flipped at that, but Joshua cut in before you could dwell on it. “Y/N is a dear friend. We’re enjoying the evening together.”

Peter’s jaw tightened, though his smile didn’t falter. “How lovely. I’m sure you’ll both enjoy the program tonight. It’s one of my favorites.”

“You’ve got great taste, as always,” Joshua replied smoothly, before glancing at his watch. “We should find our seats, Y/N. Don’t want to miss the overture.”

“Of course,” you said quickly, eager to leave the tension hanging in the air.

“Enjoy the performance,” Peter said, his eyes lingering on you as Joshua led you away. You didn’t dare look back.

---

Your seats were directly in front of Peter and Jade. As the orchestra began, you focused on the stage, but you could feel Peter’s gaze like a weight on your back. Joshua leaned closer to point out something about the composer, his voice low and warm, but you barely heard him.

Peter, meanwhile, wasn’t paying attention to the orchestra at all. His eyes never left you, the flicker of a frown crossing his face whenever Joshua leaned in or made you smile.

Jade noticed. She shifted slightly in her seat, her voice a soft whisper. “Peter, you’re not even looking at the stage.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still locked on you. Finally, he leaned back, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Just admiring the company,” he said smoothly.

Jade glanced at you and Joshua, then back at Peter. Her brow arched, but she said nothing, returning her attention to the performance.

---

At intermission, you stayed in your seat, flipping through the concert program and trying to focus on the upcoming pieces. Joshua had gone to grab drinks, leaving you alone in the steadily emptying hall. The chatter of other patrons filled the space, but you tuned it out.

The soft creak of the seat next to you folding down made you glance up. Peter.

He sat with effortless ease, one leg crossed over the other, his hands resting on the arms of the chair. “You always were the studious type, weren’t you?” His voice was smooth, teasing but gentle.

You blinked, glancing between him and the program in your hands. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s intermission,” he replied simply, his gaze steady. “Thought I’d say hello. Is that a problem?”

“No,” you said quickly, shifting slightly in your seat. “It’s just… unexpected.”

Peter smirked faintly. “I’ve been told I’m full of surprises.” He leaned back slightly, his tone casual. “You know, this concert reminds me of when Olivia insisted you both take violin lessons. What were you—ten? Eleven?”

You stared at him, caught off guard by the memory. “I was ten. Olivia was eleven.”

He nodded, his smile growing. “Right. And she quit after one session, didn’t she? Said something about the teacher being ‘a tyrant in a cardigan.’”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “She hated it. And she convinced her parents it was pointless for both of us to continue, even though I wanted to keep going.”

Peter’s eyes softened. “I remember. You were disappointed for weeks.”

You glanced down at the program, your voice quieter now. “I didn’t think anyone noticed.”

“I noticed,” Peter said, his tone gentler. “You have this way of hiding how you feel, but it’s always there if you know where to look.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but before you could respond, Peter glanced toward the aisle. “Here comes your date.”

You followed his gaze and spotted Joshua making his way back, carrying two glasses of wine. Peter stood smoothly, his polite smile firmly back in place.

“Enjoy the rest of the concert,” he said, his tone light as he stepped aside to let Joshua pass.

Joshua handed you one of the glasses, glancing at Peter as he moved back toward his own seat. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, taking a sip of your wine. “He was just saying hello.”

Joshua nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “You and Peter are close, aren’t you?”

You hesitated. “I guess. We’ve known each other a long time.”

“Hmm,” Joshua murmured, his gaze flicking briefly toward Peter and Jade, who were chatting again near the back of the hall. “He seems… invested.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, your voice defensive.

Joshua shrugged, a faint smile on his lips. “Just an observation.”

The bell chimed, signaling the end of intermission. You followed Joshua back to your seats, settling in as the lights dimmed.

As the orchestra began, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. You didn’t dare glance back, but you could feel Peter’s gaze like a tangible weight.

Joshua leaned closer, pointing out something in the performance. You nodded along, but your focus was elsewhere.

Behind you, Peter sat beside Jade, his expression unreadable as his eyes lingered on you. Jade noticed, her voice barely a whisper. “Peter, you’re missing the performance.”

“I’m not,” he murmured, though his gaze remained fixed on you.

Jade sighed softly but didn’t press further, turning her attention back to the stage.

You, meanwhile, tried to ignore the tension coiling in your chest, the strange awareness that had followed you since intermission.

The music swelled, filling the hall, but all you could think about was the man sitting just a few rows behind you.

---

“He what?” Olivia shrieked. “Oh, man. He’s relentless.”

“What do you mean ‘relentless?’” you said, crossing your arms and leaning against Olivia’s kitchen counter. “He’s the one who’s dating Jade in the first place.”

Olivia froze mid-sip of her tea, her eyebrows shooting up. Slowly, she set the mug down and turned to face you fully, her lips curling into a sly grin. “Ohhh, so now you admit it.”

“Admit what?” you asked, avoiding her gaze.

“That you care,” Olivia said, smirking. “Because last I checked, you were all ‘Peter’s not into me,’ and ‘Jade Spence is just a guest,’ blah, blah, blah.”

You scoffed, pushing off the counter. “That’s not what this is about. I just think it’s ridiculous you’re calling him relentless when he’s clearly moved on.”

Olivia gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “Moved on? From what, exactly? Because to move on, you’d have to have been on something in the first place. And as far as I know, nothing’s ever happened between you two.”

“Exactly,” you said quickly, throwing your hands up. “So what’s the point?”

“The point,” Olivia said, stepping closer and poking your shoulder, “is that you’re jealous.”

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks were starting to burn. “I’m not jealous.”

“Really?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Because you literally just said, ‘he’s the one who’s dating Jade in the first place.’ That’s got ‘green-eyed monster’ written all over it.”

“That’s not—” you started, but Olivia cut you off.

“Y/N, come on,” she said, her tone softer now. “You’ve been acting weird ever since Jade showed up. You’re suddenly going out with Joshua, of all people, and now you’re watching Peter like a hawk every time he’s in the same room.”

“I’m not—” you tried again, but Olivia just kept going.

“And don’t even get me started on the way you probably looked at him during the concert,” she said, crossing her arms. “You might as well have had a flashing sign over your head that said, ‘I wish I was sitting next to him.’”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “You’re reading way too much into this.”

“Am I?” Olivia said, leaning closer. “Because from where I’m standing, it’s pretty obvious. You like Peter. And whether you want to admit it or not, him hanging out with Jade is driving you nuts.”

You didn’t respond right away, staring at the floor as Olivia’s words sank in. Finally, you muttered, “It doesn’t matter. He’s with her. End of story.”

“Y/N,” Olivia said, exasperated. “You don’t get it, do you? He’s not with her. He’s using her.”

Your head snapped up, your eyes narrowing. “That’s a terrible thing to say. Peter’s not like that.”

“Oh, please,” Olivia said, rolling her eyes. “Peter’s a lot of things, but subtle isn’t one of them. He’s parading Jade around because he’s trying to get a reaction out of you.”

“That’s insane,” you said, shaking your head. “Why would he—”

“Because he likes you, you idiot!” Olivia practically shouted, throwing her hands up. “And he doesn’t know how to deal with it because you’ve been so busy convincing yourself he doesn’t!”

You stared at her, stunned into silence. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint ticking of the clock on the wall.

Finally, you found your voice. “If that’s true,” you said quietly, “then why hasn’t he said anything?”

Olivia sighed, her expression softening. “Because he’s Peter. He’s not going to lay it all out there unless he’s sure it’s what you want too.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. Deep down, a small part of you wondered if Olivia was right—if Peter’s actions, his lingering looks, and his sudden attention to Jade were all because of you. But another part of you was too afraid to believe it.

“Well?” Olivia said, raising an eyebrow. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Olivia smirked, leaning back against the counter. “Well, you’d better figure it out. Because if you don’t, someone else is going to make the first move. And I don’t think you’ll like how that turns out.”

You swallowed hard, her words echoing in your mind as you stared out the window, unsure of what your next step should be.

---

The party at Baron Edward’s estate was in full swing, and you found yourself clinging to the edge of the crowd, sipping something sparkling and pretending to look interested in the artwork on the walls. Joshua was mingling effortlessly, charming guests with his smooth conversation and quick wit. Olivia had disappeared somewhere, likely causing her usual brand of chaos.

Across the room, Peter was standing near Jade, the two of them engaged in polite conversation with a small group. He looked as polished as ever, his tailored suit sharp against the warm glow of the chandeliers. You noticed his hand resting lightly on the back of Jade’s chair, and for reasons you didn’t want to unpack, it sent a pang through your chest.

Joshua reappeared at your side, offering you a warm smile. "What do you say, Y/N? Care to join me for a dance?"

You felt your cheeks heat up instantly, your fingers tightening on the glass of champagne you’d been nursing for the past half hour. "Oh, um… I don’t really think I’m—"

He gave you an easy smile, his hand already half-extended. "You’ll be fine. I promise not to step on your toes."

You shook your head quickly, the thought of dozens of pairs of eyes on you making your chest tighten. "I think I’ll sit this one out. Sorry."

Joshua tilted his head slightly, studying you for a moment before nodding. "No need to apologize. Maybe next time." He glanced around and spotted Olivia chatting with a group near the drinks table. "Mind if I steal your friend, then?"

"Not at all," you said quickly, grateful he didn’t press the issue.

Joshua smiled, gave you a small nod, and headed off toward Olivia, who didn’t hesitate to accept his offer. You watched as they made their way to the dance floor, Olivia laughing at something Joshua said as he spun her gracefully into the music.

"You could’ve at least warned him you were a terrible dancer."

The low, familiar voice sent a shiver down your spine. You turned to find Peter standing beside you, one hand tucked casually in the pocket of his perfectly tailored suit. His gaze was sharp but amused, his lips curved in a faint smile.

"I didn’t think it was necessary," you muttered, looking down at your glass.

Peter tilted his head, his tone light. "And here I thought you were just trying to keep him from getting too attached."

Your head shot up, your eyes narrowing. "That’s not—"

He chuckled softly, cutting you off. "Relax, Y/N. I’m joking. Though I have to say, I’m a little surprised. You used to love dancing when we were younger."

You frowned, crossing your arms. "That was different. We were kids, and no one was paying attention back then."

Peter’s smile deepened, his gaze unwavering. "And now?"

"Now," you said quickly, "it’s just… not my thing."

"Hmm," he mused, his tone carrying that infuriating mix of charm and challenge. "I don’t believe you."

You raised an eyebrow, trying to mask your growing discomfort. "Well, you don’t have to."

Peter didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he extended a hand toward you, his eyes meeting yours with quiet intensity. "Dance with me."

"What?" you blurted, your heart skipping a beat.

"You heard me," he said, his voice steady. "Dance with me. Just one song."

"I—I can’t," you stammered, glancing around nervously. "Not here."

Peter’s smile shifted, softer now but no less insistent. Without waiting for an answer, he took your glass from your hand, setting it down on a nearby table, and offered his arm. "Then let’s find somewhere quieter."

You hesitated, glancing toward the dance floor where Olivia and Joshua were spinning effortlessly among the other couples. "Peter, I don’t think—"

"Trust me," he interrupted gently.

Before you could protest, he guided you out of the main ballroom and into a dimly lit hallway just off to the side. The music followed faintly, softer now, the sounds of laughter and conversation fading into the background.

Peter stopped near a small alcove, his hand still lightly resting on your arm. "Better?"

You nodded, though your heart was still racing. "A little."

"Good," he said, stepping closer. He took your hand in his, his touch warm and steady. "Now, let’s try this again."

"Peter, I’m going to embarrass myself," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"You won’t," he said firmly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "It’s just us, Y/N. No one’s watching."

You hesitated, but the way he looked at you—patient, encouraging, and far too confident—made it impossible to say no.

"Okay," you murmured, your voice so soft you weren’t sure he even heard you.

Peter smiled, a genuine one this time, and placed your other hand lightly on his shoulder. His hand settled on your waist, the touch sending a strange flutter through your chest.

"See?" he said, his voice low as he guided you into a slow, swaying rhythm. "Nothing to it."

"I feel ridiculous," you admitted, glancing at your feet to make sure you weren’t stepping on him.

"Don’t," Peter said softly. "You’re doing fine."

You glanced up at him, his face closer than you’d realized. His expression was calm, but his eyes… there was something in them you couldn’t quite name.

The faint strains of the orchestra drifted through the hallway, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had fallen away.

"You’re not bad at this," Peter said after a while, his tone teasing.

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile crept onto your lips. "You’re a very biased judge."

"Maybe," he admitted, his lips twitching into a smirk. "But I’m right, aren’t I?"

You didn’t answer, your gaze dropping to his collar instead. His tie was slightly loosened, just enough to make him look effortlessly disheveled in a way that only Peter could manage.

"Y/N," he said softly, drawing your attention back to his face. His smile had faded, replaced by something quieter, more serious.

"Yes?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, his hand tightening slightly on your waist. "Why do you let him distract you?"

"Who?" you asked, confused.

"Joshua," Peter said simply, his tone calm but pointed. "You’re not interested in him."

You froze, your cheeks burning. "That’s not—"

"You don’t have to explain," he interrupted, his voice low. "I just… I don’t understand why you’re pretending."

Your chest tightened, his words cutting far closer to the truth than you wanted to admit. "I’m not pretending."

Peter’s eyes searched yours, his expression softening. "You don’t have to, Y/N. Not with me."

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the distant sound of the music filling the silence.

"I…" you started, but the words wouldn’t come.

Peter leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Think about it, Y/N. That’s all I’m asking."

You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, as his words settled in the air between you. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the moment was gone.

Peter stepped back, his hand slipping from your waist. "Thank you for the dance."

You nodded mutely, watching as he turned and walked away, his footsteps fading down the hall.

Your heart was still racing, and as the music swelled again, you couldn’t shake the feeling that everything had just changed.

---

A few days after the party you were laying on Olivia’s couch, a box of tissues in your lap and a cool rag on your forehead.

“Oh, sweetie.” Olivia cooed, taking the rag away from you.

“’M not a baby,” you muttered, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself as Olivia dabbed your forehead with the cool rag.

“I know,” she teased, sitting back on the edge of the coffee table. “But you’re my favorite patient, so deal with it.” You gave her a weak glare, which she met with a smirk. “Honestly, Y/N, you’re lucky I love you. I’ve got work in a bit, and instead of doing literally anything else, I’m here playing Florence Nightingale.”

“Don’t let me keep you,” you replied, your voice hoarse. “I’ll leave when you do. I’ll get a cab back to my place.”

Olivia frowned, crossing her arms. “You’re really going to haul yourself into a cab like this? You can just stay here.”

You shook your head, coughing lightly into a tissue. “I’ll be fine. I don’t want to be in your way.”

“Like you could ever be in my way,” Olivia scoffed, standing and smoothing her blouse. “Alright, if you insist on being stubborn, I’ll drop you at the cab stand on my way out.”

She disappeared down the hall to finish getting ready, and you closed your eyes, trying to focus on the sound of the TV in the background instead of the pounding in your head.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. You heard Olivia’s muffled footsteps and then the sound of the door opening.

“Oh, Peter,” Olivia said, her voice laced with mild surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood,” Peter replied smoothly. “Thought I’d check in.”

“Well, I’m heading to work in a minute,” Olivia said, her voice casual. “But Y/N’s in the living room. She’s not feeling great, though, so don’t expect sparkling conversation.”

There was a pause, and then you heard Peter’s footsteps approaching. You opened your eyes just as he entered the room, his expression softening when he saw you curled up on the couch.

“You look dreadful,” he said, his tone gentle but teasing.

“Thanks,” you croaked, giving him a weak smile.

He chuckled, crouching down so you were eye level. “What’s the plan? Olivia mentioned a cab.”

You nodded. “When she leaves, I’ll call one and head home.”

Peter frowned slightly, standing and crossing his arms. “No, you won’t.”

“Excuse me?” you said, sitting up a little.

“You’re not well,” he said firmly. “I’ll take you home.”

“Peter, that’s not necessary—”

“It is,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I don’t trust you to actually rest if you’re left to your own devices. Come on, let’s get you sorted.”

Olivia reappeared, shrugging into her coat and raising an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

“Change of plans,” Peter said, offering you a hand. “I’m taking her home.”

You hesitated, glancing between them, but Olivia grinned. “Well, aren’t you sweet? Take good care of her, Peter. She’s a nightmare when she’s sick.”

“Noted,” Peter replied, helping you stand. “Let’s go, Y/N.”

---

The drive to your apartment was quiet. You leaned against the cool window, trying to ignore how warm your cheeks felt—not just from the fever, but from Peter’s presence.

When you reached your building, Peter insisted on helping you out of the car and up the stairs, his hand resting lightly on your back as you walked.

“You really don’t have to—”

“Y/N,” he said, cutting you off as he opened your apartment door with the spare key Olivia had borrowed and returned. “Let me help. You’re not going to convince me otherwise.”

Once inside, he guided you to the couch, setting your blanket over you and grabbing a pillow to tuck behind your head.

“Comfy?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You nodded, already feeling more at ease. “Thank you.”

Peter smiled faintly. “Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t even started making tea.”

“You’re staying?” you asked, your eyes widening slightly.

“Of course,” he said lightly, already heading toward the kitchen. “Someone has to make sure you don’t keel over.”

“Peter, I can take care of myself,” you called after him, though the argument sounded weak even to your own ears.

“I’m sure you can,” he replied, his voice teasing. “But humor me.”

You sighed, leaning back into the cushions. As much as you hated to admit it, having him there was… comforting.

“Do you even know where I keep the tea?” you called, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“I’m resourceful,” he shot back, and you could hear the sound of cabinets opening and closing.

Shaking your head, you closed your eyes, letting the quiet sounds of him moving around your kitchen fill the air.

Peter returned from the kitchen a few minutes later, carrying a mug of tea. He crouched beside the couch, offering it to you with a soft smile. “Here. Drink this.”

You blinked at him, your fingers curling around the warm mug. “You really didn’t have to.”

He leaned an arm on the edge of the couch, his face a bit closer now. “I know. But I wanted to.”

You swallowed, unsure how to respond, so you took a small sip of the tea instead. The warmth spread through your chest, soothing in a way you hadn’t expected.

“Good?” he asked, watching you intently.

You nodded, your voice soft. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

He smiled, his eyes flickering to your hair. Without saying anything, he reached up, brushing a stray strand away from your face. The motion was so casual, yet it sent a flutter through your chest.

“You’re burning up,” Peter said quietly, his hand lingering near your cheek before he pressed it lightly against your forehead. “When’s the last time you took anything for the fever?”

You squirmed under his touch, your cheeks growing warmer—not from the fever, you were sure. “Uh… this morning, I think?”

Peter frowned slightly, standing up and moving toward the kitchen again. “Stay put. I’ll grab something for you.”

You watched him go, your heart thumping unreasonably loud in your chest. He was being nice—nicer than he needed to be—but you chalked it up to Peter just being… Peter. Charming. Polished. Practically perfect. And completely out of your league.

He returned a minute later with a small glass of water and some medicine, handing both to you while placing the mug on the coffee table. “Take these.”

You hesitated but followed his instructions, swallowing the pills quickly and handing the glass back. He set it on the side table before sitting on the edge of the coffee table again, his gaze never leaving your face.

“Better?” he asked.

“Not yet,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I will be. Thanks for… you know. Helping.”

Peter tilted his head, his lips curving into a faint smile. “I’d hardly call this helping. It’s just making sure you’re not miserable on your own.”

You managed a small smile, sinking further into the couch. “Still. Thank you.”

He didn’t reply immediately, his gaze softening. He reached out again, his hand brushing lightly over your forehead as if checking your temperature once more. “You should try to sleep,” he murmured, his tone unusually gentle. “I’ll stay here.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you mumbled, already feeling your eyelids grow heavy.

“I know,” he said softly. “But I want to.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue, letting your head rest against the pillow. Peter adjusted the blanket around your shoulders, his movements careful and deliberate.

Just as you began to drift off, you felt something—a feather-light brush against your forehead. Too tired to open your eyes, you assumed it was nothing, just a fever-dream detail slipping through.

But Peter sat back quietly, his expression unreadable as he watched you settle deeper into sleep. His hand rested on the edge of the couch for a moment longer before he stood, adjusting the light in the room to something softer.

For now, he would wait.

---

When you woke, you weren’t on the couch anymore. Instead, you were tucked into your bed, your blanket pulled up to your shoulders. The soft hum of an old humidifier filled the room, a faint stream of vapor rising from its spout.

You blinked groggily, your gaze settling on the chair near your bed. Peter was there, his jacket draped over the back of the chair and his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. He had a book open in his lap but wasn’t reading; his eyes were fixed on you.

“You’re awake,” he said softly, closing the book and setting it aside. “How do you feel?”

“Better,” you mumbled, still half-asleep. “Did you…?”

“Carry you to bed?” he finished, his lips curving into a faint smile. “You were out cold, Y/N. I didn’t think you’d make it to the bed.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you glanced down at the blanket. “You didn’t have to.”

Peter leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You said that already. And I’m still ignoring it.”

You fiddled with the edge of the blanket, unsure of what to say. “Thanks,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, his voice low. “I wanted to.”

You glanced at him, your heart skipping a beat at the way his eyes softened when they met yours. He reached over, brushing a hand lightly across your forehead. His touch was warm, lingering just a second longer than necessary.

“Your fever’s down,” he murmured. “That’s good.”

You nodded, too shy to meet his gaze for long. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough,” he said lightly, leaning back in the chair. “Olivia called to check in. I told her you were still alive.”

You huffed out a quiet laugh. “She’ll probably tell everyone I’m being dramatic.”

“She might,” Peter said with a faint smirk. “But I’ll set the record straight. Tell them you were very brave.”

“Stop,” you mumbled, pulling the blanket up to your face to hide your smile.

Peter chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Fine. I’ll spare you the teasing. For now.”

You peeked over the blanket, catching his grin. “I didn’t know you were such a good nurse.”

“I’m full of surprises,” he said smoothly, standing up and stretching. “Do you need anything? More water? Tea?”

“No, I’m okay,” you said quickly, though your voice came out quieter than you intended.

Peter crossed his arms, studying you for a moment. Then, without a word, he stepped closer, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders. His hand brushed yours briefly, and you swore your heart skipped a beat.

“Comfortable?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You nodded, unable to meet his gaze. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Peter didn’t move right away. His hand rested lightly on the edge of the bed, and you could feel the weight of his presence. Finally, he straightened, his expression unreadable.

“Try to rest,” he said, his tone gentler than before. “I’ll be in the other room if you need me.”

“Wait,” you blurted, surprising yourself. When he turned back to you, eyebrows raised, you faltered. “I mean… you don’t have to stay in the other room. If you’re tired or something, you can… I don’t know, sit here? If you want?”

Peter’s lips twitched into a small smile, his gaze softening. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me,” you said quickly, then immediately looked down, your cheeks burning. “I just… I don’t mind.”

He hesitated for only a moment before pulling the chair closer to the bed. “Alright,” he said simply, settling back into it. “If you insist.”

You relaxed a little, letting your eyes close again. Peter didn’t say anything else, and for a while, the only sounds in the room were the quiet hum of the humidifier and the soft rustle of pages as he reopened his book.

Before you drifted off, you felt the edge of the blanket shift slightly, as though he were tucking it in more securely. It was such a small gesture, but it left your heart fluttering in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

---

As you cleaned up your spreadsheet a knock on your office door drew your attention away from your computer.

“Someone’s here to see you. A… Peter?” Alyssa said.

You rolled your chair back a little before standing up, “Peter?” You repeated. “Oh—uh, yeah, send him in.”

Alyssa smiled and went back to the reception desk. You sat back down just as Peter knocked a few times on your open door before entering, a brown paper bag in his hand.

“Good afternoon,” he said smoothly, stepping inside like he owned the place. “Thought I’d stop by and see how my favorite accountant was doing.”

You blinked, immediately flustered. “Peter, what are you doing here?”

He held up the bag with a small smile. “I remembered you’re terrible about taking lunch breaks, so I thought I’d bring it to you.”

Your cheeks warmed as you glanced at the bag. “You didn’t have to do that. I was going to grab something later.”

“Were you, though?” Peter teased, pulling up a chair without asking. “Or were you planning to survive on coffee and determination?”

You sighed, knowing he wasn’t wrong. “Okay, fine. But really, you didn’t need to go out of your way.”

“It wasn’t out of my way,” he replied, leaning back casually. “Besides, I wanted to.”

You hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Peter always had this way of saying things that left you completely off balance. “Well… thanks,” you mumbled, reaching for the bag.

“You’re welcome,” he said, his tone softer now. “It’s just a sandwich and some soup, but I figured it’d hold you over.”

You opened the bag, the warm aroma of tomato soup wafting out. “This is… really nice of you.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Peter said with a faint smirk. “I can be nice.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” you replied quickly, glancing up at him. “It’s just… unexpected.”

Peter tilted his head, studying you with an unreadable expression. “I like surprising you.”

Your stomach flipped at the way he said it, but before you could respond, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “So, how’s work?”

You shrugged, grateful for the change in topic. “Same as always. Spreadsheets, numbers, more spreadsheets.”

“Thrilling,” Peter teased, though his tone held genuine interest. “And Joshua? Has he been stopping by with sandwiches too?”

You froze, your spoon hovering over the soup container. “What? No. Why would he?”

Peter shrugged, his eyes glinting with something you couldn’t quite place. “Just curious. Thought maybe he was trying to impress you.”

“Well, he’s not,” you said quickly, though your cheeks felt like they were on fire. “We’ve only gone out a couple of times. It’s not that serious.”

“Good to know,” Peter said smoothly, sitting back in his chair.

You frowned, glancing at him. “Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t,” he said lightly, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just making conversation.”

You hesitated, searching his expression for some kind of clue, but he was impossible to read. “Okay,” you said finally, turning your attention back to your soup.

Peter watched you for a moment longer before standing. “I’ll let you get back to it. But if you need another delivery, you know where to find me.”

You glanced up, surprised by the sudden shift. “You’re leaving already?”

He smiled faintly. “For now. But I’ll see you soon.”

Before you could respond, he was already heading for the door. You stared after him, the warmth of his gesture lingering even as his presence left the room.

Peter paused in the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder. “Don’t skip lunch tomorrow, Y/N.”

“I won’t,” you promised, though your voice was softer than you intended.

His smile widened slightly, and then he was gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the small, unexpected weight of his visit.

---

The Apollo Theatre foyer buzzed with excited chatter as you stood with Joshua, clutching your program and trying not to look overwhelmed. Olivia spotted you almost instantly, weaving through the crowd with her signature enthusiasm.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, wrapping you in a quick hug before turning to Joshua. “And look who’s with you. Hey Joshua. Ready for the show?”

Joshua smiled warmly, shaking her hand. “Always. How could I pass up an evening at the theatre?”

Olivia turned back to you, grinning. “Y/N, are you ready for this? I’ve heard Wicked is incredible. And you know how I feel about The Wizard of Oz.”

You laughed softly. “You’ve only mentioned it a thousand times.”

Before Olivia could retort, another familiar voice joined the conversation. “Quite the reunion, isn’t it?”

Your head snapped toward the source. Peter stood a few feet away, looking effortlessly composed as always. Beside him, Jade smiled politely, her golden hair catching the soft light of the foyer.

Joshua straightened, his expression slipping into something cooler. “Peter. Jade. Fancy seeing you here.”

Peter’s smile didn’t waver as he glanced at you. “Is it? I thought this was the hottest ticket in town. Wouldn’t miss it.”

Olivia’s eyes darted between the two men, her smirk growing. “Wow, all four of us together. How cozy.”

“Five,” Jade corrected with a light laugh. “Don’t forget me.”

“Right, of course,” Olivia said, her tone borderline teasing.

Joshua’s hand brushed lightly against your back. “Shall we find our seats, Y/N? I think intermission mingling will suffice for this particular group.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Actually, you’re all in our row. They’ve just started seating.”

Your heart sank slightly as Peter gestured toward the usher holding the door open. Of course you’d all end up sitting together—it was just your luck.

Joshua’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, but he maintained his composure. “Well, that’s convenient.”

Peter stepped forward, extending an arm toward you. “Shall we?”

Joshua opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Olivia interjected, her tone bright and amused. “Go ahead, Y/N. Peter knows the way better than any of us.”

You shot Olivia a quick glare, but Peter was already waiting, his arm still offered. Hesitantly, you placed your hand on his sleeve, letting him guide you toward the theatre. Joshua followed close behind, his expression unreadable.

---

The row was, unsurprisingly, a bit of a squeeze. Olivia sat on the far end, with Joshua next to her. You were in the middle, flanked by Peter on your left and Jade on his other side.

“This is… cozy,” Olivia quipped as everyone settled into their seats.

“Intimate, even,” Peter added smoothly, his gaze sliding to you. “How are you finding your evening so far, Y/N?”

“It’s nice,” you said quickly, fidgeting with your program. “I’m excited for the show.”

“As you should be,” Peter replied, leaning closer. “It’s a masterpiece. Though, I’ll admit, some moments can be quite… emotional.”

“Good thing I brought tissues,” Olivia teased from the other end.

Joshua cleared his throat, drawing your attention. “Are you familiar with the music, Y/N? I could hum a few bars if you need a preview.”

You laughed softly, trying to ease the growing tension. “I think I’ll manage, thanks.”

Peter’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Careful, Joshua. You wouldn’t want to spoil the magic.”

Jade glanced between the two men, her smile polite but strained. “Isn’t it wonderful how theatre brings everyone together?”

“Truly,” Peter said, his tone light but sharp enough to earn a glance from Joshua.

Before the exchange could escalate, the lights dimmed, and the orchestra began its overture. You turned your attention to the stage, grateful for the distraction.

---

Throughout the performance, you couldn’t help but feel hyper-aware of Peter. His arm rested lightly on the shared armrest, close enough that your elbows brushed once or twice. Each time, you shifted slightly, but he didn’t seem to notice—or perhaps he did and simply didn’t care.

Joshua, meanwhile, leaned in occasionally to whisper something about the show. His commentary was kind and thoughtful, but your responses were distracted, your focus tugged toward the man on your other side.

When intermission arrived, Olivia stood immediately. “Drinks, anyone? I could use something fizzy.”

“I’ll come with you,” Jade said quickly, standing and smoothing her dress.

Joshua glanced at you. “Want to stretch your legs, Y/N?”

Before you could answer, Peter turned toward you, his expression casual but intent. “Or we could stay and chat. The lobby will be packed.”

Joshua’s jaw tightened, but he managed a smile. “It’s up to you.”

You hesitated, feeling the weight of both their gazes. “I think I’ll stay,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joshua nodded stiffly. “Alright. I’ll grab you a drink, then.”

As he and the others filed out, Peter leaned back in his seat, his posture relaxed. “Interesting choice.”

You turned toward him, fidgeting slightly with the program in your lap. “What is?”

“Staying behind,” he said lightly, his gaze steady but unintrusive. “I thought you might want a break from all this.” He gestured toward the crowded theatre.

You shrugged, unsure how to respond. “I don’t mind staying. It’s quieter now.”

Peter’s lips quirked into a small smile. “True. Quieter can be nice sometimes.”

You nodded, clutching the program tighter. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy in a way that made your chest feel tight.

“You’re enjoying the show, I hope?” Peter asked after a moment, his tone light.

“Yeah, it’s amazing,” you said quickly, grateful for the neutral topic. “The cast is incredible.”

“It’s a masterpiece,” Peter agreed. “I remember the first time I saw it. Defying Gravity gave me chills.”

You smiled faintly. “It’s definitely the kind of show that sticks with you.”

He studied you for a moment, then leaned a bit closer, resting his arm on the shared armrest. “You know, I’ve always admired your taste in music.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What? Why?”

Peter shrugged casually, though there was a glimmer of something deeper in his eyes. “You’ve got a good ear. You appreciate the details most people miss.”

Your cheeks grew warm under his gaze. “I don’t know about that. I just… like what I like.”

“That’s what makes it genuine,” he said simply. “You don’t pretend to like things just because it’s expected. It’s refreshing.”

You glanced down, fiddling with the corner of the program. “I guess I’ve never thought about it that way.”

He chuckled softly, his voice warm. “That’s what makes it true.”

You dared to look up at him again, finding his expression unusually soft. “You’re being… really nice today.”

“Am I not usually nice?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

“No, you are,” you said quickly, stumbling over your words. “It’s just… different.”

Peter tilted his head, his smile growing. “Maybe I’m just trying to put you at ease. You always seem a little… on edge around me.”

“I’m not,” you protested, though your voice lacked conviction.

“You are,” he countered gently. “But I’m glad you stayed. It’s nice talking like this.”

You hesitated, unsure how to respond. Finally, you muttered, “Yeah, it is.”

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, and he leaned back into his seat, his hand resting on the armrest just a little closer to yours. “Do you remember the first play we went to? At my father’s estate? You must’ve been—what? Eleven? Twelve?”

You smiled faintly at the memory. “It was A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Olivia made me go with her.”

Peter chuckled. “And you spent the entire first act whispering that you didn’t understand why people thought Shakespeare was funny.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Please don’t remind me. I was such a pain back then.”

“You weren’t,” he said softly, his tone sincere. “You were curious. That’s what made it endearing.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, your voice muffled. “Endearing?”

“Very,” he said with a small grin.

Before you could respond, the others began filtering back into the row. Joshua handed you a drink with a polite smile, his eyes flicking briefly to Peter. “Hope I got the right one.”

“Perfect,” you said quickly, taking the glass and shifting slightly in your seat.

Peter leaned back, his expression unreadable, but his gaze lingered on you for just a moment longer before he turned his attention to the stage.

As the lights dimmed and the show resumed, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Peter’s presence beside you. It was magnetic, grounding in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

And as the music swelled, you found yourself wondering if staying behind had been the right choice—or if it had only complicated things even more.

---

It was nerve-wracking going on dates with Joshua, but meeting his parents? That felt like a completely different level of stress. Lord Beckett’s estate was sprawling, the kind of place you’d only seen in magazines, and the garden party looked like something out of a period drama.

“Relax,” Joshua said, offering you his arm as you both approached the grand lawn. “They’re going to love you. And even if they don’t, they’re far too proper to say anything about it.”

“That’s… oddly comforting,” you muttered, glancing nervously at the clusters of guests sipping champagne and chatting under the shade of elegant white umbrellas.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, his tone warm. “Just smile and let me do the talking.”

You managed a small nod, though your stomach twisted with nerves.

Joshua led you toward a group near the center of the lawn, where Lord Beckett stood in a sharp navy suit, his posture as upright as his title implied. His wife, Lady Beckett, was beside him, her features poised and polite.

“Ah, Joshua,” Lord Beckett said, his deep voice carrying over the hum of conversation. His sharp eyes flicked to you. “And this must be… Y/N, is it?”

“Yes, sir,” you said softly, offering a polite smile.

“Welcome,” Lady Beckett said, her tone more cordial than warm. “It’s lovely to meet you. Joshua’s spoken highly of you.”

You blinked, glancing at Joshua, who grinned. “What can I say? She’s easy to talk about.”

Lady Beckett’s smile widened just a fraction. “How charming.”

Before the conversation could go much further, another familiar voice cut in.

“Lord Beckett,” Peter said smoothly, stepping into the group with Jade on his arm. “Always a pleasure.”

Your breath caught, and you instinctively looked away, focusing intently on the glass in your hand.

“Peter Lyman,” Lord Beckett greeted, his tone polite but measured. “You’ve been making quite the rounds lately.”

Peter chuckled. “What can I say? It’s hard to resist a good garden party.” His gaze flicked to you briefly, his smile unwavering. “Y/N. Fancy seeing you here.”

Jade added with a light laugh, “it’s practically a reunion, isn’t it? How lovely.”

Joshua’s arm tensed slightly under your hand, but he kept his tone pleasant. “Peter, Jade. Enjoying the season?”

“Absolutely,” Peter replied, his tone smooth as silk. “And you? Busy keeping Y/N entertained, I assume?”

Joshua’s smile tightened just enough for you to notice. “She’s been wonderful company. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

You nodded quickly, feeling the weight of everyone’s gaze. “Yes. Very.”

Peter’s lips quirked, his expression unreadable. “Good to hear.”

Jade broke the tension with a bright laugh, linking her arm with Peter’s. “Peter’s always said these events are better with good company. Haven’t you, darling?”

“Something like that,” Peter said lightly, though his eyes flicked back to you briefly.

“Shall we, Y/N?” Joshua asked suddenly, his tone smooth but insistent. “I’d love to show you the south gardens. They’re a bit quieter.”

You nodded, eager for an escape. “Of course.”

As Joshua guided you away, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder. Peter’s gaze was still on you, his expression calm but intent, as if he was waiting for something you weren’t sure you could give.

“Don’t let him get to you,” Joshua said quietly as you walked, his voice low but firm.

“What?” you asked, startled.

“Lyman,” Joshua clarified, glancing at you. “He likes to play games. Don’t let him pull you into one.”

You frowned, unsure of how to respond. “I don’t think he—”

“He does,” Joshua interrupted gently but firmly. “Trust me.”

You didn’t answer, but your thoughts were a storm of doubt and confusion as you followed Joshua toward the gardens.

---

The south gardens were quieter, with fewer guests and a small fountain bubbling in the center. Joshua stopped beside it, turning to face you fully.

“You’re tense,” he said softly.

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, though your voice wavered.

Joshua studied you for a moment, his expression softening. “Y/N… if this is too much, you don’t have to stay.”

“No, it’s okay,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I just—this isn’t really my scene, you know? But I’ll manage.”

He nodded, his lips curving into a faint smile. “I know it’s not easy. But you’re handling it well.”

“Thanks,” you said, though your thoughts were still elsewhere.

Joshua’s gaze flicked past you for a moment, and his expression shifted, growing cooler. You turned to see Peter approaching, his stride measured and confident.

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” Peter said smoothly, stopping a few paces away.

“Actually—” Joshua started, but Peter cut him off.

“Y/N,” Peter said, his tone softer as his gaze settled on you. “Do you have a moment?”

Joshua’s jaw tightened, but he kept his tone even. “We were just about to head back, actually.”

Peter ignored him, his eyes still on you. “Just a moment, Y/N. That’s all I need.”

You hesitated, glancing between them. Joshua’s expression was calm but tense, while Peter’s was unreadable, his usual charm tempered by something more serious.

“Go ahead,” Joshua said finally, his voice tight. “I’ll wait here.”

You nodded slowly, stepping toward Peter. “What is it?”

Peter waited until you were out of earshot before speaking, his voice low. “You don’t have to stay with him, you know.”

“What?” you asked, frowning.

“I mean it,” he said, his tone soft but firm. “If you’re not happy, you don’t have to keep pretending.”

“I’m not pretending,” you said quickly, though your voice sounded unconvincing even to your own ears.

Peter’s eyes searched yours, his expression softening. “You are. And you’re not very good at it.”

Your chest tightened, but you couldn’t bring yourself to argue.

“I know this is all… complicated,” Peter continued, his voice gentler now. “But I can’t stand watching you with him, knowing you’re not where you want to be.”

“Peter,” you started, but he shook his head.

“Just think about it, Y/N,” he said quietly. “That’s all I’m asking.”

Before you could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with your heart racing and your mind spinning.

---

Later, while you sipped your glass of champagne and held a small plate with a scone, Joshua leaned down, his voice low and warm. “I’m going to say hello to the Westford’s,” he said, pressing a light kiss to your cheek before walking away.

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat as you glanced around, hoping no one had noticed. It felt like such a public display, something you weren’t used to, especially with so many watchful eyes at a gathering like this.

Unfortunately, someone had noticed.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Peter standing with Jade near the edge of the garden. His expression was calm, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. And then, with deliberate ease, Peter turned toward Jade, leaning down to whisper something in her ear.

Jade laughed softly, tilting her head up to him.

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t a quick, polite kiss, either. It was slow, deliberate—enough to catch the attention of more than a few nearby guests.

Your stomach twisted as you froze, your fingers tightening around your glass. For a moment, you considered looking away, but your gaze betrayed you, snapping back to Peter.

And that’s when he looked at you.

Even as he kissed Jade, his eyes met yours, holding your gaze with an intensity that sent a chill down your spine. It wasn’t a glance; it was deliberate, calculated.

You felt your chest tighten, heat rising to your face. Before you could process what had just happened, you set your plate and glass down on a nearby table and turned on your heel, heading toward the side of the lawn.

You found Joshua near the Westford’s, laughing at something Lord Westford had said. He glanced up as you approached, his expression softening. “Y/N, are you alright?”

“I’m not feeling well,” you said quickly, your voice tight. “I think I’m going to head out.”

Joshua frowned, stepping closer. “What’s wrong? Do you want me to call for a car?”

“No, it’s fine,” you replied, shaking your head. “I’ll grab a cab. I just need to go.”

“Are you sure?” he pressed, his brow furrowing.

“I’m sure,” you said, your tone firmer this time. “Thank you for the invitation. It was… lovely.”

Joshua hesitated, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he nodded. “Alright. Just let me know when you’re home, okay?”

“I will,” you promised, already turning to leave.

You made your way out of the estate, barely registering the elegant gardens or the soft chatter of the guests. Your chest felt tight, and your thoughts were a jumbled mess as you flagged down a cab and climbed inside.

---

By the time you arrived at Olivia’s apartment, your head was spinning. You fumbled with the spare key she’d given you, finally unlocking the door and stepping inside.

“Y/N?” Olivia called from the couch, her voice muffled by the blanket draped over her. She sat up, a bowl of popcorn in her lap. “What are you doing here? I thought you were at Lord Beckett’s thing.”

You dropped your purse on the nearest chair, your hands trembling slightly. “I was. I just… I couldn’t stay.”

Olivia’s eyes narrowed as she set the popcorn aside and stood, crossing the room in a few quick strides. “Okay, spill. What happened?”

You hesitated, your throat tightening. “Peter happened,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Olivia blinked, then sighed, crossing her arms. “What did he do this time?”

You sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands. “He kissed Jade. Right in front of everyone. And then he… he looked at me.”

“What?” Olivia asked, her tone sharp. She sat down beside you, her hand resting on your arm. “Are you serious?”

You nodded, unable to keep back your sobs any longer. “I don’t know what he’s trying to do, Liv. One minute he’s nice, the next he’s… playing games. I can’t keep up.”

Olivia frowned, scooting closer and pulling you into a hug. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to figure it all out right now.”

You leaned into her, your face pressed against her shoulder. “It’s just… he said something to me before he kissed her.”

She pulled back slightly, her hands still on your arms. “What did he say?”

Your voice wavered as you tried to explain. “He said… he couldn’t stand seeing me with Joshua. That I wasn’t where I wanted to be. And then—then he just… walked away. And not even ten minutes later, he’s kissing Jade like it’s nothing.”

Olivia exhaled sharply, pulling you back into her arms. “Oh, Y/N. I’m so sorry. That’s so… Ugh, I don’t even know what to say.”

You sniffled, your hands clutching the fabric of her sweater. “Why would he say something like that if he didn’t mean it? And then do the exact opposite? It’s like he’s trying to mess with me.”

She rubbed your back gently, her voice soft. “I know it feels like that. But right now, you don’t need to make sense of it. You’ve had a hell of a day. Let’s just… focus on getting you through this moment, okay?”

You nodded weakly, wiping at your eyes. “I feel so stupid, Liv. I shouldn’t even care, but I do. I always have.”

“You’re not stupid,” Olivia said firmly, pulling back enough to look you in the eye. “You’ve had feelings for him forever. This isn’t something you can just turn off.”

You didn’t respond, your chest still tight as you struggled to catch your breath.

“Alright,” Olivia said after a moment, her tone more practical. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re staying here tonight. I’ll make us some tea, and we’ll find something mindless to watch on TV. No more thinking about Peter, Jade, or Joshua. Deal?”

You hesitated, but the thought of not dealing with any of it, even for a little while, was too tempting to resist. “Deal.”

“Good,” Olivia said, standing and giving you a small smile. “Stay put. I’ll grab the tea.”

As she headed to the kitchen, you curled up on the couch, pulling the blanket tighter around you. Your thoughts were still spinning, but Olivia’s presence was grounding, her no-nonsense approach exactly what you needed.

When she returned with two steaming mugs, she set one down in front of you and plopped onto the couch with the other. “Alright, your choice: rom-coms or reality TV?”

You hesitated, then managed a small smile. “Rom-coms. Something ridiculous.”

Olivia grinned, grabbing the remote. “You’ve got it.”

As the opening credits of some over-the-top romantic comedy filled the screen, you leaned back into the cushions, trying to let the chaos of the day fade into the background. Olivia reached over, giving your hand a quick squeeze before settling in beside you.

“Hey,” she said quietly. “Whatever happens, you’ll figure it out. You always do.”

You nodded, your voice too shaky to respond. For now, you let yourself focus on the warmth of the tea in your hands and the comfort of Olivia’s shoulder against yours. It wasn’t a solution, but it was enough for the moment.

⁠♡ part 2 ♡

[themareverine]

not me absolutely bludgeoning the urge to write for Hugh characters nobody is aware of

[vamphelsingz]

theres so many awesome hugh characters that never get written for bro. like where are the stanley jobson fics. the peter lyman fics. robert angier. theres more characters than logan out there guys please

[princessanglophile]

Peter Lyman + bad boy

🥵

I haven’t seen Scoop (fuck Woody Allen I wanna punch his stupid ugly face), but this idea’s got me tempted to watch it.

Either way I went with bad businessman rather than bad motorcycle boy. Hope that was ok nonnie ❤️

send me a hugh character + vibe and I’ll make a moodboard of it

[rmtndew]

[ragazzadibossi]

[mcrdvcks]

—what is this feeling? part 2

summary: You and Peter have known each other since you were kids—only because you were friends with his distant cousin Olivia. While you have harbored a crush on him for years, you're sure he doesn't feel the same.

word count: 15.3k+ (31.6k+ total)

pairing: Peter Lyman x fem!reader

notes: this is the second part to this (long) oneshot since tumblr has a word limit. the summary and warning/tags are the same

warnings/tags: loosely follows event of scoop (2006) but not canon, miscommunication, shy!reader, slow burn, jealousy, angst, mention of murder/death, toxic peter lyman, but also sweet peter lyman (the duality of man), happy ending, not proofread

⁠♡ part 1 ♡

You had taken off work for a few days, ruminating in what felt like heartbreak. Luckily you were someone who almost never took off work, so you had more than enough hours piled up to use.

The TV played reruns of Doctor Who while you ate out of a tub of ice cream, staring blankly at the screen. You weren’t even sure which episode you were watching; it all blurred together in the haze of your thoughts. The sound of the doorbell broke through, and you froze, the spoon halfway to your mouth.

You sighed, setting the ice cream down and dragging yourself to the door. Peeking through the peephole, you felt your breath hitch. It was Peter.

He stood there, impossibly calm, dressed casually but still somehow looking polished. His hand rested lightly against the doorframe, and for a moment, he seemed to glance around the hallway as if debating whether to knock again.

Your heart thumped heavily in your chest, but you didn’t open the door. You didn’t even say anything, staying completely still as you stared through the peephole.

Peter shifted slightly, running a hand through his hair before leaning closer to the door. “Y/N, I know you’re in there,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “I saw the light on.”

You stayed silent, leaning against the door for balance.

He sighed, a faint edge of frustration creeping into his tone. “Please, just let me talk to you. Five minutes, that’s all I’m asking.”

You bit your lip, your fingers twitching against the lock, but you didn’t move.

“I know I’ve made a mess of things,” Peter continued, his voice quieter now. “But I can’t fix it if you won’t talk to me.”

You leaned your forehead against the door, closing your eyes. The ice cream was melting on the coffee table, the TV droning on in the background, but none of it mattered in this moment.

Peter exhaled sharply, the sound muffled through the door. “Alright,” he said finally, his tone resigned. “If you don’t want to see me, I’ll go. But, Y/N, I need you to know something.”

You tensed, waiting.

“I meant what I said at the garden party,” he said, his voice carrying a rare vulnerability that caught you off guard. “You don’t have to stay with him. You deserve better than Joshua—or anyone else who makes you feel like you’re just… settling.”

Your heart clenched, but you didn’t move.

“And Jade…” Peter hesitated, his voice faltering for the first time. “That’s nothing. It’s always been nothing. I don’t… I didn’t handle it the right way. But I thought—” He stopped, taking a breath. “It doesn’t matter. None of it does if you don’t believe me.”

Silence fell between you, thick and heavy. Peter waited for a beat longer before stepping back. “I’ll leave you alone,” he said quietly. “But if you change your mind… you know where to find me.”

You heard his footsteps retreating down the hall, but you stayed frozen in place, your forehead still pressed against the door. Your chest ached with the weight of his words, but no matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t bring yourself to open the door.

Not yet.

---

Joshua, over the course of the next week, brought you flowers and takeout, even going as far as cleaning your living room and kitchen while you were at work.

"Y/N," Olivia said on the phone one evening while you sat on the couch surrounded by fresh blooms, the faint smell of lemon cleaner still hanging in the air. "He cleaned your apartment? Like, voluntarily?"

"Yes," you replied, sinking deeper into the cushions. "He said it was no trouble and that he just wanted to help while I was busy with work."

Olivia let out a low whistle. "Wow. That’s… effort. Are you sure he’s not angling for sainthood?"

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips. "He’s just thoughtful, Liv. It’s nice."

"Nice," she echoed, her tone skeptical. "You’ve been using that word a lot lately. You sure you’re not just convincing yourself?"

You frowned, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. "I don’t know. He’s been really sweet, and he’s easy to talk to. It’s just… I feel like something’s missing."

"Uh, yeah," Olivia said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "That ‘something’ is probably tall, charming, and currently sulking somewhere because you won’t talk to him."

"Don’t," you warned, closing your eyes.

"Y/N," Olivia pressed. "You can’t avoid Peter forever. He’s not the type to let things go."

"I’m not avoiding him," you said weakly.

"You are, and honestly? I get it. He was a complete ass," Olivia admitted. "But I also know you. You’re still into him, aren’t you?"

You stayed quiet, the weight of her question pressing down on your chest.

"That’s what I thought," Olivia said softly. "Look, I’m not saying you should forgive him or whatever. But maybe you should at least hear him out. If he really feels bad, he’ll make it right."

"Maybe," you murmured, but the doubt still lingered.

"Just think about it," Olivia said before changing the subject to the latest gossip about her coworkers.

---

Two days later, the inevitable happened. You were leaving work, your bag slung over your shoulder as you stepped into the cool evening air. And there he was.

Peter leaned against the side of his car, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. His hair was slightly tousled, like he’d been running his fingers through it, and his gaze was fixed on you with an intensity that made your steps falter.

"Y/N," he said, straightening as you approached.

You stopped a few feet away, your heart hammering in your chest. "What are you doing here?"

"I was hoping to talk to you," he said, his voice softer than you expected. "Just for a minute. Please."

You hesitated, glancing around as if searching for an escape, but you knew there wasn’t one. With a sigh, you nodded. "Fine. One minute."

Peter’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he took a step closer. "I owe you an apology," he began, his tone earnest. "For everything. For what I said, for what I did… for all of it."

You looked down, gripping the strap of your bag tightly. "You hurt me, Peter. You can’t just… say things like that and then do the opposite. It’s not fair."

"I know," he said quickly. "And you’re right. I was out of line. I thought I could—" He stopped, running a hand through his hair. "I thought I could make you see how much I cared by… I don’t even know what I was thinking. But it was stupid, and I’m sorry."

You glanced up at him, your chest tightening at the genuine regret in his eyes. "Why did you do it?"

Peter hesitated, his gaze searching yours. "Because I didn’t know how else to get your attention. I didn’t want to just tell you how I felt and risk losing you altogether."

"Felt?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Feel," he corrected softly, stepping closer. "Y/N, I’ve cared about you for longer than I want to admit. And seeing you with Joshua… it drove me mad. But that doesn’t excuse what I did."

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over you. "Peter…"

"I don’t expect you to forgive me right away," he said, his voice low. "But I couldn’t let things end the way they did. You mean too much to me."

Your eyes stung with unshed tears, but you blinked them away, nodding slowly. "I don’t know if I can trust you, Peter. Not yet."

"I’ll earn it," he said firmly, his gaze unwavering. "Whatever it takes."

For the first time in weeks, you felt a glimmer of hope. It didn’t erase the hurt, but it was enough to let him back in—just a little.

"Okay," you said softly. "But don’t make me regret it."

Peter’s lips curved into a faint smile, and he nodded. "I won’t."

---

Over the next week, Peter kept his word. He didn’t overwhelm you with grand gestures, but he was present in small, meaningful ways. He texted to check in, brought you your favorite tea during your lunch break, and even helped Olivia fix her leaky faucet when he visited her apartment.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to remind you of why you’d fallen for him in the first place.

But you still weren’t completely over what he did, which is why when Joshua invited you to his father’s Bonfire Night party you hesitated, before ultimately saying yes.

Olivia stood by you, her gold dress shimmering in the setting sun. “I can’t believe you almost ditched me.”

You adjusted the strap of your dress, avoiding her pointed look. “I wasn’t ditching you. I just… wasn’t sure I wanted to come.”

“Because Peter’s here,” Olivia said flatly, crossing her arms. “And because you’re here with Joshua.”

You winced. “It’s not that simple.”

“Sure it is,” she shot back, her voice light but sharp. “You like Peter. You’re dating Joshua. And you’re stuck in the world’s most uncomfortable love triangle.”

“Olivia,” you groaned, rubbing your temples. “Can we not do this right now?”

She raised an eyebrow, her tone softening slightly. “I’m just saying, Y/N. You’re not going to magically figure this out by avoiding the problem.”

“I’m not avoiding anything,” you muttered, though even you didn’t believe it.

Olivia sighed dramatically. “Fine. Let’s focus on surviving the party. Smile, mingle, and try not to look like you’re walking on eggshells the whole night.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” you said dryly.

“You’re welcome,” she quipped, looping her arm through yours. “Now come on. Joshua’s looking for you.”

You spotted Joshua near one of the fire pits, his easy smile and polished demeanor perfectly suited for the crowd. He waved when he saw you, and you managed a small wave back.

“I’ll catch you later,” Olivia said, giving you a knowing look before slipping into the crowd.

Joshua greeted you with a kiss on the cheek and handed you a glass of champagne. “You look stunning,” he said warmly.

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling a little stiff. “This party’s… something.”

“Father does enjoy going all out,” Joshua said with a chuckle, his hand resting lightly on your back. “Shall we?”

You nodded, letting him guide you toward a group of guests.

---

It wasn’t long before you saw him. Peter stood near the bar, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit that made him look effortlessly sophisticated. He was talking to a small group, his charm on full display, but his eyes flicked to you the moment you entered his line of sight.

You quickly looked away, focusing on the champagne flute in your hand.

“Everything alright?” Joshua asked, his voice low.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just a little overwhelmed.”

“I’ll get us some air later,” he promised, brushing his fingers against yours.

You nodded, grateful for his thoughtfulness, even as your heart raced for entirely different reasons.

---

As the night wore on, you found yourself standing near one of the smaller fire pits, Joshua engaged in a conversation with Lord Westford. You sipped your champagne quietly, your gaze drifting to the crowd.

“Enjoying yourself?” Peter’s voice came from behind you, smooth and calm.

You turned, finding him closer than you expected. “Peter,” you said, your voice slightly breathless. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s a party,” he said with a faint smirk. “What are you doing here?”

You frowned. “I was invited.”

“Ah,” he said, his gaze flicking briefly toward Joshua before settling back on you. “Of course.”

“Is there something you need?” you asked, your tone more defensive than you intended.

Peter’s smirk faded, replaced by something softer. “I wanted to check on you. You aren’t exactly the biggest fan of fireworks.”

Your eyes momentarily widened. Through all your mixed feelings, you had forgotten what today really was. Bonfire Night.

"I…" you started, gripping the edge of your champagne flute. "I’m fine. It’s just a little loud, that’s all."

Peter’s gaze softened, his hands resting casually in his pockets. "You’ve never liked fireworks."

You shrugged, trying to brush it off. "I’ve gotten better about it."

"Have you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Because if memory serves, you’d always end up inside with a book before the first rocket went off."

You glanced away, heat rising to your cheeks. "That was years ago."

"Not that many years," Peter said lightly, tilting his head toward the nearby house. "Come on. Let’s go inside."

"I’m fine," you protested quickly, though your voice wavered. "I don’t need to hide from a few fireworks anymore."

Peter didn’t move, his expression calm but insistent. "It’s not hiding, Y/N. It’s taking care of yourself. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone."

You hesitated, glancing toward the sky where a few bursts of color lit up the night. The sound wasn’t deafening yet, but you could feel the familiar knot forming in your chest.

Peter waited, watching you carefully. "We don’t have to stay inside the whole night," he added softly. "Just long enough to avoid the worst of it. Like old times."

The way he said it—gentle, without judgment—made you waver. He wasn’t pushing, just… offering. And you knew he had your best interests in mind, as he always had when it came to this.

"Okay," you said finally, your voice barely audible.

Peter smiled, his relief barely noticeable but there. He held out his hand, not in an exaggerated gesture, but simple and natural, like he’d done a hundred times before.

You didn’t hesitate long before slipping your hand into his.

---

Inside the house, the noise from outside was muffled, the steady hum of distant conversations replacing the sharp pops and whistles of the fireworks. Peter led you to a quiet sitting room with a plush sofa and an unlit fireplace.

“Better?” he asked, glancing back at you.

You nodded, taking a seat on the sofa. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Peter settled into the armchair across from you, his posture relaxed but his gaze attentive. “You always hated the noise,” he said, his tone casual. “Even when Olivia and I tried to drag you outside to watch.”

“You didn’t try that hard,” you pointed out, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “You usually gave up after five minutes and left me alone.”

Peter chuckled. “Fair. Olivia’s the persistent one.”

You shook your head, leaning back against the cushions. “She still is. She made me come tonight, even though I wasn’t sure…” You trailed off, catching yourself.

Peter’s expression softened, but he didn’t press. “I’m glad you did,” he said after a moment. “It’s nice to see you outside of work or… tense situations.”

You glanced at him, your cheeks warming. “Yeah. It’s… nice.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The quiet was comfortable, the kind of silence that didn’t demand to be filled.

Peter broke it first, his voice low. “Do you remember that time Olivia dared me to set off fireworks in her backyard? You were so mad at me.”

“I wasn’t mad,” you said quickly, though you couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face. “I was terrified. You nearly burned down her dad’s shed.”

“Nearly,” Peter emphasized, his grin widening. “And I apologized. Multiple times.”

“You should’ve apologized to her dad,” you teased. “I’m pretty sure he still doesn’t trust you near anything flammable.”

Peter laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “Probably not. But it was worth it to see Olivia’s face when the rocket tipped over.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” he said lightly, his gaze steady on yours. “But you’re smiling. That’s progress.”

You hesitated, your heart skipping a beat under his watchful eyes. “Thanks for… this,” you said softly, gesturing to the quiet room around you. “I didn’t realize how much I needed it.”

Peter leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “Anytime, Y/N. You know that.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and you looked away, suddenly shy. “We should probably head back soon,” you said, though you made no move to leave.

“Not yet,” Peter said gently. “Let’s give it a few more minutes. You deserve a break.”

You glanced at him, his expression calm and unhurried, and nodded. “Alright. A few more minutes.”

As the muffled sound of fireworks continued outside, you let yourself relax, grateful for the quiet—and for Peter.

---

“No, to the right. Now a little to the left… and, stop! Right there.” Olivia looked over at you, “ah, don’t you just love Christmas?”

You took a sip of your eggnog. “You mean the one time every year where your parents let you decorate for the Christmas party and you get to be your true, controlling self?”

Olivia smirked, adjusting the garland draped over the banister. “Exactly. They’re too busy hosting to care, and I get to make this place look perfect. It’s a win-win.”

You laughed softly, watching as she repositioned an ornament for the third time. “It’s a little terrifying how seriously you take this.”

“Hey, you’re drinking my eggnog, so I don’t want to hear it,” Olivia retorted, sticking her tongue out at you.

“Fair point,” you admitted, raising your glass in mock salute.

Just then, the front door opened, and the familiar sound of Peter’s voice carried through the entryway. “I’m not late, am I?”

“Peter!” Olivia called, her tone sharp but playful. “You’re always late. You’re just lucky the party hasn’t officially started yet.”

Peter stepped into the living room, shrugging out of his coat. He wore a dark sweater that hugged his frame just right, and the effortless confidence in his stride made your chest tighten. “Fashionably late,” he corrected, hanging his coat on the rack. His eyes found you almost immediately. “Y/N. I didn’t realize you’d be here so early.”

You held up your eggnog as if it were an explanation. “Olivia bribed me with holiday cheer.”

“And she’s been an excellent assistant,” Olivia added, grinning. “Even if she’s a bit snarky.”

Peter chuckled, leaning casually against the doorframe. “I’d expect nothing less.”

You glanced down at your glass, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze. “Are you staying for the party?” you asked, your voice quieter than intended.

“Of course,” Peter replied, his tone warm. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good,” Olivia interjected, hands on her hips. “Because you’re helping me hang the lights. Y/N’s been slacking.”

“Hey!” you protested, but Olivia just winked at you.

Peter’s smirk widened. “I’m happy to help.” He crossed the room, grabbing the box of lights from the corner. “Where do you want them?”

“Up by the fireplace,” Olivia instructed, already moving to supervise. “And try not to break anything. My dad still hasn’t forgiven you for the Great Vase Incident of ’98.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “That was your fault, as I recall.”

“Details,” Olivia said breezily, waving him off.

You watched the two of them banter, a familiar pang tugging at your chest. They’d always been so comfortable with each other, their dynamic effortless and easy. And while Olivia never made you feel like an outsider, you couldn’t help but feel a little out of place when Peter was around.

“Y/N,” Peter said, pulling you out of your thoughts. He was holding up a strand of lights, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Care to lend a hand? Or are you too busy with your eggnog?”

You hesitated, your cheeks warming. “I—uh—sure.”

“Great,” he said, motioning for you to join him by the fireplace. “I’ll hold these up, and you can tell me if they’re straight.”

“Why do I feel like I’m being set up?” you asked, setting your glass down and walking over.

Peter grinned. “Because you are.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto your face.

---

As the three of you worked, the doorbell rang, and Olivia hurried to answer it. Joshua stepped inside, his polished appearance contrasting with the slightly chaotic energy of the room. “Y/N,” he said warmly, spotting you immediately. “You look lovely.”

“Thanks,” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You made it just in time.”

“Perfect timing, as always,” Joshua replied, stepping closer. He glanced at Peter, who was adjusting the lights. “Peter.”

“Joshua,” Peter said evenly, not looking away from his task. His tone was polite, but there was an edge to it that you couldn’t ignore.

Joshua slid an arm lightly around your waist, and you tensed, feeling Peter’s gaze flick toward you. “This place looks great,” Joshua said, addressing Olivia as she returned. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Thank you,” Olivia said, her eyes darting between him and Peter. “It’s a team effort, though. Y/N’s been helping.”

“She always has good taste,” Joshua said, giving you a small squeeze.

Peter straightened, stepping down from the stool and dusting off his hands. “Well, the lights are up. Anything else, Liv?”

“Not for now,” Olivia said, her tone tight as she glanced at you. “Why don’t we all grab a drink and relax before the guests arrive?”

“Excellent idea,” Joshua said, steering you toward the kitchen. “Come on, Y/N.”

You followed him, feeling Peter’s eyes on you the entire way.

---

The party was in full swing now, the hum of conversation and soft clinking of glasses filling Olivia’s house. You and Joshua had been mingling for a while, though he seemed perfectly at ease, charming the small groups you joined. You, on the other hand, felt slightly out of place, your smile starting to feel a little forced as the evening dragged on.

“Having a good time?” Joshua asked, leaning closer so you could hear him over the noise.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “It’s nice.”

His lips quirked into a small smile. “Nice? That’s all?”

Before you could reply, a familiar voice interrupted.

“Y/N,” Peter said, stepping up beside you. His tone was polite, but his eyes were focused entirely on you. “Could I borrow you for a moment?”

Joshua’s brow furrowed slightly, though his expression remained composed. “Is it urgent?”

Peter smiled faintly. “I won’t keep her long.”

You hesitated, glancing at Joshua, who gave a small nod. “Go ahead. I’ll be here.”

“Thanks,” you said softly before turning to Peter. “Alright.”

Peter led you out of the crowded room and down the hall to a quieter corner near the library. The muffled sounds of the party faded as he closed the door behind you.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, your voice hesitant.

“Everything’s fine,” Peter said, his tone gentler now. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, tied with a neat bow. “I just wanted to give you this.”

Your eyebrows shot up as you took the box from his hand. “What is it?”

“Open it and see,” he said, leaning casually against the wall, though his gaze never left your face.

You carefully untied the bow and lifted the lid. Inside was a delicate necklace with a simple arrow pendant, the silver catching the soft light of the room.

“Peter,” you breathed, your fingers brushing over the pendant. “It’s beautiful.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he said, his voice low. “It reminded me of you.”

“Of me?” you asked, looking up at him.

He smiled, a small, genuine curve of his lips. “Of the time Olivia convinced you to take archery lessons with her. You were better than all of us, even though you swore you’d be terrible.”

You laughed softly, a faint blush rising to your cheeks. “I forgot about that.”

“I didn’t,” he said simply, his eyes warm.

You hesitated, your thumb grazing the pendant again. “Thank you. It’s… really thoughtful.”

“Turn around,” he said gently, holding out his hand for the box. You passed it to him, feeling your heart race as you turned.

Peter stepped closer, his presence warm behind you. You held your breath as his fingers brushed your neck, clasping the necklace with a practiced ease. He lingered for a moment, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders before stepping back.

You turned to face him, your hand instinctively reaching for the pendant. “It’s perfect,” you said quietly, meeting his gaze.

Peter’s expression softened, but there was something unreadable in his eyes. “It suits you.”

You hesitated, your voice wavering as you asked, “Where’s Jade?”

He didn’t flinch, but his smile faded slightly. “She’s gone.”

“Gone?” you repeated, your brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

Peter shrugged, his tone calm but final. “She left. That’s all there is to it.”

The way he said it left no room for further questions, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to press him anyway. Instead, you nodded slowly, your fingers still lightly gripping the pendant.

“Thank you, Peter,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled again, a faint curve of his lips as he stepped closer. “You’re welcome, Y/N. Always.”

Before you could respond, the faint sound of someone calling your name reached the hallway. Peter glanced toward the door, his smile tightening.

“You should get back,” he said, his tone polite but distant.

“Right,” you said quickly, stepping toward the door. “Thanks again.”

Peter didn’t follow, leaning against the wall as you left. His eyes lingered on the empty doorway for a moment before he let out a slow breath, his expression unreadable.

---

Back in the main room, Joshua found you almost immediately. “There you are,” he said, his voice warm. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly, offering a small smile. “Peter just… wanted to talk.”

Joshua studied you for a moment, his gaze flicking briefly to the necklace around your neck. “It’s nice,” he said evenly.

“Thanks,” you replied, your hand instinctively touching the pendant. “It was a gift.”

Joshua’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. “Shall we?” he asked, offering his arm.

You nodded, looping your arm through his and letting him guide you back into the crowd. But as the night went on, you couldn’t shake the weight of the pendant resting against your collarbone—or the memory of Peter’s words.

---

Joshua walked you to your apartment door, his demeanor as composed as ever, though there was a subtle tension in his posture. He stood just inside the threshold, his hands in his coat pockets, glancing around the small entryway.

“You’re quiet,” you said softly, breaking the silence as you set your purse on the side table.

He gave you a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just thinking.”

You hesitated, unsure of what to say. “About what?”

Joshua took a slow breath, stepping closer. “About us.” He paused, his gaze steady. “Y/N, I know we’ve never… officially defined what we are, but I care about you. I need you to know that.”

Your chest tightened, and you glanced down, unable to meet his eyes. “I care about you too, Joshua.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “I believe that. But I also think… you’re conflicted. And you have been for a while.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he held up a hand, his tone gentle. “I’m not angry, Y/N. And I’m not trying to make this harder for you. I just think it’s time to acknowledge what’s been hanging between us.”

You bit your lip, your fingers curling against the edge of the table. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t apologize,” he said quickly, stepping closer. “You haven’t done anything wrong. You’ve been honest with me, and I appreciate that. But I can see it, Y/N. You’re trying to force yourself to feel something you’re not sure about.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away. “You’re a wonderful person, Joshua. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He smiled softly, the sadness in his eyes making your chest ache. “I know you don’t. And that’s why I’m telling you this now—so you have time to figure out what you really want.”

You frowned, your voice barely audible. “What do you mean?”

Joshua straightened slightly, his tone calm but resolute. “I’m leaving for a business trip tomorrow. I’ll be gone for a week. While I’m away, I want you to think about this—about us. And about him.”

Your breath hitched, and you looked up at him sharply. “Him?”

Joshua’s expression remained steady. “You don’t have to say it, Y/N. I know Peter’s a part of this, whether you realize it or not. I’ve seen the way you look at him, the way he looks at you. It’s not something you can ignore.”

You felt a lump forming in your throat, but you couldn’t find the words to respond.

“I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty,” Joshua continued gently. “I just… I need you to be honest with yourself. And with me.”

“Joshua…” you started, your voice breaking.

He gave you a reassuring smile, reaching out to lightly touch your arm. “It’s okay, Y/N. Whatever happens, I want you to be happy. That’s all that matters.”

Tears blurred your vision as you nodded, your voice trembling. “Thank you.”

He stepped back, his hand falling to his side. “Take care of yourself, alright? I’ll call you when I get back.”

You managed a small nod, watching as he turned and walked down the hall. The door clicked softly shut behind him, leaving you standing alone in the silence.

Your gaze dropped to the pendant around your neck, your fingers brushing against it lightly. The weight of his words settled over you, leaving you torn between guilt and relief. And as much as you tried to push it away, one thought lingered in the back of your mind:

You needed to figure out what you wanted. And it wasn’t just about Joshua. It was about Peter, too.

---

A few days later, you and Olivia stumbled into her apartment after a night at the club, a place you notoriously hate because of the crowds and loud noise. But you thought it couldn’t hurt to get out of your head a little bit, especially with what Joshua said before he left on his business trip.

Olivia reached for the coat hook by her front door, trying to place her coat on the rack as it fell to the ground. “Ah, fuck it. ‘M not gonna pick that up.”

You giggled, stumbling toward the couch. “You’re such a mess, Liv.”

“I’m a masterpiece, actually,” Olivia countered, pointing a finger in your direction before tripping slightly on the edge of the rug. “Oops. See? Flawless recovery.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, flopping onto the couch and kicking off your heels. Your feet ached, and your head was already buzzing from the drinks, but for the first time in days, you didn’t feel like crying.

Olivia flopped down next to you, grabbing a throw pillow and hugging it to her chest. “I’m not ridiculous. I’m living my best life. You’re the one who never lets loose.”

“Excuse me?” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Who just spent the entire night dancing, even though they hate crowds?”

“That’s fair,” she admitted, waving the pillow at you. “I’m proud of you for actually showing up. I thought I’d have to drag you there kicking and screaming.”

“You practically did,” you pointed out, leaning your head back against the couch. “But it wasn’t… the worst thing ever.”

Olivia gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “Did Y/N just admit she had fun? Someone call the press!”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help smiling. “Don’t push it.”

She smirked, tossing the pillow aside and grabbing the remote. “So, what’s the plan? Sleep? Food? Another drink?”

“I can’t even think about drinking right now,” you said, groaning. “I need water and something greasy, or I’m going to regret this in the morning.”

“Got it,” Olivia said, standing unsteadily and heading toward the kitchen. “I think I’ve got leftover pizza in the fridge. Want me to heat it up, or are we going full savage mode?”

“Savage mode,” you said, laughing. “I’m too tired to wait.”

Olivia returned with a box of cold pizza and two bottles of water, dropping onto the couch with a triumphant grin. “Bon appétit.”

You grabbed a slice, taking a bite and sighing contentedly. “This is exactly what I needed.”

“See? Clubbing isn’t so bad,” Olivia said, grabbing a slice for herself. “You just need the right ending.”

“Clubbing is still bad,” you replied between bites. “But this? This is good.”

She laughed, nudging your shoulder. “I’ll take it. Baby steps, Y/N.”

You both sat in comfortable silence for a while, the sound of the TV filling the room as you worked through the pizza.

Eventually, Olivia broke the quiet. “So… how’re you feeling about everything? With Joshua, I mean.”

You paused, your fingers playing with the edge of the pizza box. “I don’t know. He’s been amazing. Thoughtful, sweet, everything you’d want, right?”

“But?” Olivia prompted, tilting her head.

You sighed, leaning back against the couch. “But I keep second-guessing everything. Like, is it fair to him if I’m not… all in? Am I being honest with myself? I just feel so—”

“Conflicted?” Olivia finished gently.

“Yeah,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

She reached over, squeezing your hand. “Hey, it’s okay to feel that way. You’re not a robot. And you’re not a villain for trying to figure out what you want.”

You nodded, but the guilt still gnawed at you. “I just don’t want to hurt him. He doesn’t deserve that.”

“No one does,” Olivia said softly. “But being with someone when you’re not sure? That’s not fair to either of you.”

You stayed quiet, her words sinking in.

“And let’s be real,” she added with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood. “You’ve been hung up on Peter since forever. That’s not going to just disappear because someone else comes along.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Don’t remind me.”

“I’m just saying,” Olivia said, nudging your knee with hers. “If you don’t deal with that, it’s always going to be there. No matter how great Joshua is.”

You peeked at her through your fingers, your voice muffled. “Why are you always right?”

“It’s a curse,” she said dramatically, throwing her arm over her eyes. “But seriously, Y/N. Take your time. Figure it out. And whatever you decide, I’ll be here to back you up.”

You smiled weakly, lowering your hands. “Thanks, Liv.”

“Anytime,” she said, grabbing another slice of pizza. “Now, shut up and eat. We’re not leaving any leftovers.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you reached for another slice. For the first time in weeks, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you’d find your way through this mess.

---

“Hey, Joshua. I know you said you were gonna call when you got back, but… if I’m being honest I’m really drunk right now since Olivia dragged me out to a club. But in hindsight, I still feel a bit more confident than usual so I thought I might… say what I needed to say, ‘cause I’d probably chicken out when I see you.”

“You were right. My feelings are complicated toward Peter, but I do really like you. But you were right… I need to be honest with myself. I like Peter—hell, I think I’ve loved him since we were, uh… little people? Point is, I really like you, and I never wanted to hurt you. Call me back when you’re free?”

There was a soft beep as the voicemail ended and then… silence.

The line went dead.

---

Two weeks later you were jittery and nervous. Joshua said he would be back in a week and had never returned, let alone call you back.

Olivia placed her tray on the table across from you, your work calendar underneath it, and flopped into the seat with a dramatic sigh. “Alright, spill. Why do you look like you haven’t slept in a week?”

You pushed the lettuce around on your sandwich, your appetite completely gone. “I haven’t heard from Joshua.”

Olivia blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What do you mean? He hasn’t called you since he left?”

You shook your head, setting the sandwich down. “Nothing. No calls, no texts. It’s like he disappeared.”

She frowned, her brow furrowing. “That’s weird, even for him. Did you try calling him again?”

You hesitated, fiddling with the edge of your napkin. “I left a voicemail. After we went out that night.”

“Oh, God.” Olivia’s eyes widened slightly. “You didn’t confess on a drunk voicemail, did you?”

You winced, nodding. “I did.”

Olivia groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “Y/N. Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

“Because I feel like an idiot,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I was honest with him, but now I’m worried I said too much. Or scared him off.”

Olivia sat up, her expression softening. “Hey, you were just being real with him. If he can’t handle that, then maybe it’s better you know now.”

“I just…” You sighed, resting your chin in your hand. “I didn’t want things to end like this. He deserves better than that.”

“And so do you,” Olivia pointed out. She reached across the table, squeezing your hand. “Look, maybe he’s just busy. You said he’s on a work trip, right? He could still call when he gets back.”

“It’s been two weeks,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “I think that’s long enough for a call.”

Olivia hesitated, clearly unsure of what to say. “Alright, then maybe it’s time to move on. You’ve done what you can, Y/N. If he’s not responding, you can’t put your life on hold for him.”

“I know,” you murmured, though the words felt hollow. “It just… sucks.”

“Yeah,” Olivia agreed, leaning back in her chair. “It does. But hey, at least you’ve got me to keep you sane.”

You managed a weak smile. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She grinned, grabbing a fry from her tray. “Probably starve. Speaking of which, eat your sandwich. You’re no good to anyone if you’re hangry.”

You rolled your eyes but picked up the sandwich again, taking a small bite. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

---

Later that day after taking a relaxing bath, you walked into the kitchen to debate whether you wanted to cook something or order takeout. You didn’t get far before Olivia called you. You flipped open your phone. “Hey. I was just deciding what I wanted for dinner. Does Thai or Indian sound bett—”

“Have you checked the news?”

The phone nearly slipped from your fingers. “What? No, I haven’t. Why?”

Olivia’s voice was tense, clipped with urgency. “Turn on the TV. It’s on every channel.”

Your chest tightened as you moved quickly to the living room. You fumbled with the remote, flipping through channels until a familiar news anchor appeared on the screen. The banner running across the bottom made your stomach drop.

MISSING: LORD BECKETT’S SON, JOSHUA BECKETT

The screen displayed an image of Joshua smiling at some event, dressed in one of his tailored suits, looking perfectly at ease. The anchor’s voice filled the room:

“…last seen departing for a business trip nearly two weeks ago. Despite extensive efforts to contact him, friends and family have received no communication. Authorities are investigating his disappearance. More details are expected to follow—”

You muted the TV, your hand trembling as you pressed the button.

“Y/N?” Olivia’s voice came through the phone, softer now. “Are you seeing this?”

You sank onto the couch, your heart racing. “I… Yeah. I’m seeing it.”

“What the hell is going on?” she asked, her voice tinged with unease.

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “He didn’t say anything before he left—just that he’d call when he got back. I thought… I thought he was just busy.”

“Two weeks is more than busy,” Olivia said flatly. “This is serious.”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing. “Do you think something happened to him?”

“I don’t know,” Olivia admitted. “But if he hasn’t been in touch with anyone, it’s not a good sign.”

Your chest tightened, a sick feeling settling in your stomach. “This doesn’t make any sense. He was fine before he left. He didn’t seem… worried about anything.”

“Do you think he—” Olivia hesitated, lowering her voice. “Do you think he left on purpose? Like, to get space or something?”

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head even though she couldn’t see you. “Joshua wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t just… disappear without telling anyone.”

“Alright,” Olivia said, though she still sounded uncertain. “Then we have to assume something’s happened. Have the police contacted you?”

“No,” you said, glancing at your phone. “Why would they?”

“You were dating him,” Olivia pointed out. “If they’re investigating, they might reach out to people close to him.”

Your stomach churned. “I don’t know anything, Liv. If they ask me, what am I supposed to say?”

“Just tell them the truth,” Olivia said gently. “That’s all you can do.”

You nodded weakly, your eyes flicking back to the muted TV. The image of Joshua remained on the screen, a stark reminder of how little you understood what was happening.

---

The knock on your apartment door startled you. You froze on the couch, your mind spinning with thoughts of Joshua, the news reports, and the uneasy ache that had settled in your chest over the past few days. Slowly, you got up, wiping your hands on your sweatpants as you approached the door.

You peeked through the peephole, your breath catching when you saw Peter. His expression was calm but tinged with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft, just loud enough to carry through the door. “Can I come in?”

You hesitated for a moment before unlocking the door and opening it. “Peter,” you said quietly, stepping aside to let him in.

He offered a faint smile, his eyes scanning your face as if trying to gauge your mood. “Hey. I heard about the news… I wanted to check on you.”

You nodded, shutting the door behind him. “Thanks. I’m… I don’t even know what I am, honestly.”

Peter’s gaze softened, and he reached out, his hand brushing lightly against your arm. “Come sit down. You shouldn’t be standing here like this.”

You let him guide you back to the couch, sinking into the cushions as he sat beside you. The air felt heavy, the unspoken weight of everything pressing down on both of you.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “He just… vanished. And no one knows anything. It doesn’t make sense.”

Peter nodded, his expression steady but unreadable. “It’s unsettling. And it’s not something anyone should have to go through.”

You looked down at your hands, twisting your fingers together nervously. “I keep going over every conversation we had before he left. Wondering if I missed something—if he was trying to tell me something, and I didn’t pick up on it.”

“Y/N,” Peter said gently, his hand resting on your knee. “Don’t do that to yourself. You couldn’t have known. This isn’t your fault.”

“But what if—” you started, but he shook his head.

“There are no ‘what ifs,’” he said firmly, his hand warm and steady against your leg. “You cared about him. You were there for him. That’s what matters.”

You blinked back the sting of tears, nodding weakly. “It just… it doesn’t feel real. He was here, and now he’s not. It’s like the ground’s been pulled out from under me.”

Peter’s arm slid around your shoulders, pulling you gently against him. “I know,” he murmured. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

You let yourself lean into him, your cheek resting against his chest. The steady rhythm of his breathing was oddly soothing, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. His other hand came up, brushing lightly over your hair as he held you close.

“It’s not fair,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “He didn’t deserve this.”

“No, he didn’t,” Peter agreed, his voice low. “But you don’t deserve to carry this on your own, either.”

You closed your eyes, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the warmth of his embrace. For a moment, the weight on your chest eased, replaced by a strange sense of comfort you hadn’t felt in weeks.

“You don’t have to stay,” you said quietly, though you didn’t move away. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Peter said firmly. “Not until you’re okay.”

You didn’t respond, too lost in the haze of your emotions to argue. Instead, you stayed where you were, letting the steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his arms lull you into a fragile sense of calm.

---

When you and Olivia walked into your apartment after going out to dinner together, the first thing you noticed was the large vase of hydrangeas on your coffee table, along with a small box of expensive caramels.

Olivia’s eyebrows shot up as she shrugged off her coat. “Well, well, what’s this? Did you pick up a secret admirer while I wasn’t looking?”

You blinked, setting your bag down and approaching the table. A small card sat propped against the vase. “I… have no idea,” you murmured, picking up the card.

Olivia leaned over your shoulder, her curiosity on full display. “Read it! What does it say?”

You opened the card, your fingers brushing over the neat handwriting. “To brighten your day. -Peter.”

Olivia let out a low whistle. “Peter, huh? He’s pulling out all the stops, isn’t he?”

You felt your cheeks warm as you set the card back down. “He’s just… being thoughtful.”

Olivia flopped onto the couch, crossing her legs. “Thoughtful, sure. But come on, Y/N, hydrangeas and fancy caramels? That’s not just thoughtful—that’s calculated. The man knows what he’s doing.”

You sighed, sitting down beside her and fiddling with the edge of the coffee table. “He’s been really sweet lately. Ever since… you know.”

“Since Joshua?” Olivia supplied, raising an eyebrow.

You nodded, biting your lip. “I don’t know how to feel about it. I mean, Peter’s been there for me through everything, but I can’t shake this feeling like he’s… I don’t know. Trying to prove something.”

Olivia tilted her head, studying you. “Maybe he is. But is that a bad thing? You’ve had a thing for him forever, and now he’s finally making an effort. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“It’s not that simple,” you muttered, leaning back against the couch. “I don’t want him to feel like he has to… compete or something. Especially after what happened with Joshua.”

Olivia snorted, grabbing one of the caramels and unwrapping it. “Y/N, Peter’s not the kind of guy who does anything he doesn’t want to do. If he’s stepping up now, it’s because he wants to. Not because he feels obligated.”

You frowned, her words sinking in. “But what if it’s too late? What if everything with Joshua just… ruined it?”

Olivia rolled her eyes, popping the caramel into her mouth. “Ruined what? You and Peter were always circling each other, even when you were with Joshua. This isn’t about timing—it’s about you deciding what you actually want.”

You stayed quiet, your fingers brushing over the edge of the card again. “What if I don’t know what I want?”

Olivia nudged your shoulder, her voice softer now. “Then maybe it’s time to figure it out. Peter’s not going anywhere, Y/N. But you owe it to yourself to stop holding back.”

You glanced at her, her words settling in your chest like a weight. “Do you think he really…?”

“Likes you?” Olivia finished, smirking. “Y/N, that man’s been pining after you for years. He’s just too proud—or too stubborn—to admit it outright.”

Your cheeks burned, and you quickly looked away. “You don’t know that.”

“Don’t I?” Olivia said, grinning. “He sent you hydrangeas, Y/N. Your favorite kind of flower that you probably mentioned one time to him when you were younger, and he remembered.”

You rolled your eyes, even as your cheeks flushed. “He’s just being nice.”

“Nice?” Olivia scoffed, popping another caramel into her mouth. “Y/N, this isn’t nice. This is strategic. He’s playing the long game, and you’re falling for it.”

“I’m not falling for anything,” you muttered, fidgeting with the card in your hand.

Olivia raised an eyebrow. “Oh, please. He’s practically wrapped around your finger, and you’re still pretending like he’s not into you. Wake up, Y/N.”

You sighed, setting the card back on the table. “It’s complicated, Liv.”

“Only because you’re making it complicated,” she shot back. “You’ve been into him since we were kids. He’s finally giving you his full attention, and you’re sitting here overthinking it.”

You hesitated, your fingers brushing over the edge of the vase. “It’s just… everything with Joshua. It feels wrong to move on so fast.”

“Joshua wouldn’t want you to sit around moping,” Olivia said firmly. “And let’s be real, you weren’t head-over-heels for him. You liked him, sure, but not like this.”

You looked at her, surprised. “Not like what?”

“Not like the way you look at Peter,” Olivia said simply, crossing her arms. “Or the way you get all flustered when he so much as breathes near you.”

“I do not,” you protested weakly, but Olivia just smirked.

“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that,” she said, standing and stretching. “Anyway, I’m thirsty. Wine, good?”

You managed a weak laugh, grateful for her ability to lighten the mood. “Wine’s good.”

“And while we wait, you can tell me how you’re going to handle Peter. Because ignoring him isn’t an option anymore.”

You sighed, leaning back against the couch. “I don’t know, Liv. I really don’t.”

“Well, figure it out,” she said, closing your cupboard’s door. “Because knowing Peter, he’s not going to let you avoid him for long.”

---

A knock on your apartment door the next evening made your heart skip a beat. You weren’t expecting anyone, and Olivia had her own plans tonight. Setting down the tea you’d been sipping, you walked cautiously to the door and peeked through the peephole.

Peter stood on the other side, dressed casually in a gray sweater and dark jeans, holding a small bag in one hand. He caught sight of the peephole and gave a faint smile, as if sensing you were there.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice just loud enough to carry through the door. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

You hesitated, your hand resting on the doorknob before finally unlocking it and opening the door. “Peter. What are you doing here?”

He held up the bag with a sheepish grin. “I brought takeout. Thought you might be hungry.”

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You brought me dinner?”

He shrugged, stepping inside as you moved aside to let him in. “It’s not exactly gourmet, but I figured it’s better than you eating instant noodles.”

“Bold of you to assume I had instant noodles planned,” you said, closing the door.

Peter smirked, setting the bag on the kitchen counter. “It’s a hunch.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the counter as he unpacked the food. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to,” he said simply, glancing at you. “I know things have been… a lot lately. I thought a quiet dinner might help.”

Your chest tightened, and you looked away, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “You’ve been doing a lot for me lately.”

Peter’s expression softened. “I care about you, Y/N. I’m just trying to be here for you.”

You glanced up at him, his words settling over you like a warm blanket. “Thank you. Really.”

He smiled faintly, pushing one of the takeout containers toward you. “Come on. Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

---

Dinner with Peter was easy, the conversation flowing effortlessly as you talked about everything and nothing. He had a way of making you laugh, his wit sharp but never cutting. For the first time in weeks, the weight on your chest felt lighter.

As the evening wore on, Peter leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on you. “You seem more like yourself tonight.”

You smiled softly, swirling your drink in its glass. “I think I’m starting to feel… okay again. It’s still weird not hearing from Joshua, but I’m not as upset as I thought I’d be.”

Peter nodded, his expression unreadable. “That’s good. You deserve to feel at peace.”

You hesitated, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “Do you think he’s okay? Wherever he is?”

Peter’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but his tone was calm when he replied. “I think he’d want you to be happy, no matter what.”

Something about the way he said it made you pause, your gaze lingering on his face. “You really think that?”

“I do,” he said firmly, his eyes meeting yours. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to help you get there.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you. You swallowed hard, looking down at your drink. “You’ve already done so much, Peter. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

He leaned forward slightly, his voice low and steady. “You don’t owe me anything, Y/N. Just let me be here for you. That’s all I want.”

You glanced up, your breath catching at the intensity in his gaze. The warmth of his presence, the sincerity in his words—it was all too much and not enough at the same time.

“Okay,” you said softly, your voice barely audible. “Thank you.”

Peter’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile. “Anytime.”

---

“How was your date last night?” you asked as the nail tech painted a soft coral onto your nails.

Olivia grinned, glancing at you over her magazine. “It was… interesting. He showed up in a leather jacket, which I thought was bold for a guy who works in finance, but then he ordered a piña colada at dinner.”

You laughed softly. “That’s a choice.”

“Right?” Olivia said, shaking her head. “I mean, I’m all for a guy who knows what he likes, but it just didn’t vibe with the whole Wall Street aesthetic he was going for.”

“Did you tell him that?”

She smirked. “Of course not. I’m not a monster. But the date kind of fizzled after that. Turns out, he’s one of those people who think working for a magazine is ‘cute.’”

You winced. “Ouch.”

“Exactly,” Olivia said, leaning back in her chair. “So, no second date for Mr. Leather-and-piña-colada.”

“You’re ruthless,” you teased, shaking your head.

“I have standards,” she replied, flipping the page of her magazine. “How’s work been? Any new scandals in the accounting world?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s been fine. Mostly just year-end audits and tax prep.”

“Sounds thrilling,” Olivia said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Hey, it pays the bills,” you replied with a shrug. “And it’s not all spreadsheets. Sometimes there’s… client drama.”

“Oh, client drama,” Olivia said, perking up. “Now we’re talking. Spill.”

You hesitated, glancing at the nail tech, who was focused on your hand. Lowering your voice slightly, you said, “we had this one client who tried to write off their yacht as a business expense. They even had fake invoices to back it up.”

Olivia gasped, clearly delighted. “No! Did they get away with it?”

“Not a chance,” you said, smirking. “My boss caught it immediately. The guy was not happy when we told him he couldn’t claim it.”

“Let me guess,” Olivia said, narrowing her eyes. “He tried to threaten you with his ‘connections.’”

“Something like that,” you replied, laughing. “But we stood our ground. It was kind of satisfying watching him squirm.”

“You’re secretly a savage,” Olivia said, grinning. “I love it.”

You shook your head, smiling. “Not really. I just don’t like people thinking they can get away with stuff like that.”

“Well, remind me never to try and cheat my taxes,” Olivia said, raising her hands in mock surrender.

“Smart choice,” you replied, your tone teasing.

The nail tech finished your last finger, carefully blowing on the polish to help it dry. Olivia glanced at your hands and nodded approvingly. “That color’s perfect on you.”

“Thanks,” you said, admiring the soft, summery shade. “Ready to head out?”

“Absolutely,” Olivia said, standing and grabbing her purse. “But first, we’re getting coffee. I need something to recover from the mental image of a guy sipping a piña colada in a suit.”

You laughed, following her to the counter to settle the bill. “You really know how to pick them, Liv.”

“I live to entertain,” she said with a wink.

---

“Hey there, Dotty.”

You let out a slight gasp as you turned around to come face to face with Olivia’s twin brother, Oscar. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, how do ya think Ollie got the tickets? I’ve got connections you know.”

Olivia walked over holding her clutch and a glass of wine. “Oscar,” she hissed.

He turned to look at her, “what? I’m just speakin’ the truth.”

“Five years in America and you’ve turned into more of a pretentious arsehole.” Olivia muttered.

“I heard that. And I resent it.” Oscar replied, reaching over to ruffle her hair, which she dodged.

Peter walked over, placing a hand on your waist and gently moving you aside as Olivia and Oscar continued their bickering. His touch was warm, firm, and effortlessly reassuring, making your breath hitch for a split second.

“Let’s not get caught in the crossfire,” Peter murmured close to your ear, his tone laced with amusement.

“Good idea,” you replied softly, letting him guide you a few steps away. Your heart gave an annoyingly noticeable thump as his hand lingered for a moment longer than necessary before he let it drop.

The theatre lobby was bustling, everyone dressed to the nines for the evening performance of The Phantom of the Opera. Olivia’s enthusiasm for the musical had been borderline infectious, but Peter’s presence was what had truly made you agree to come tonight. You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but you were looking forward to sitting next to him in the darkened theatre.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Peter said, studying your face. His gaze was steady, calm, yet probing in a way that always made you feel like he saw more than you were ready to show.

“Just taking everything in,” you said, gesturing to the opulent decor around you. “This place is beautiful.”

Peter smiled, his expression softening. “It is. But I meant you. Something on your mind?”

You hesitated, glancing toward Olivia and Oscar, who had moved on to teasing each other about their wine preferences. “I guess I’m just… nervous. I haven’t been to something like this in a long time.”

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” Peter assured you. His voice dipped slightly, and you swore his eyes darkened just a fraction. “You look incredible, by the way.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you glanced down at the neckline of your dress. “Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

Peter chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I try.”

Before the conversation could deepen, Olivia swooped in, dragging Oscar behind her. “Alright, let’s get to our seats before the ushers start giving us dirty looks.”

Oscar rolled his eyes but followed, grinning as Olivia nudged him toward the row. “You’re bossy, you know that?”

“You love it,” Olivia shot back, sliding into her seat.

Peter motioned for you to go ahead of him, and as you slid past him to take your seat, his hand brushed lightly against your back again. The touch was fleeting but intentional, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

You tried to focus on the grandeur of the theatre as the lights dimmed, the murmurs of the crowd fading into anticipation. But Peter, seated just to your right, made it impossible to ignore the steady hum of awareness that had been building between you.

---

The performance was breathtaking. You’d been completely captivated by the haunting music and the tension between the Phantom and Christine, though the parallels to your own tangled emotions didn’t escape you. Peter, seated so close, made every small movement—every shift, every glance—feel magnified.

As the final notes of Music of the Night faded into the silence of the audience, you turned slightly toward him, your expression unguarded. “That was… incredible.”

Peter was already watching you, his eyes unreadable in the dim light. “It’s one of my favorites,” he said softly. “I knew you’d like it.”

“You did?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, leaning slightly closer. “You’ve always been drawn to stories like this. Beautiful, bittersweet, with just a hint of danger.”

Your breath hitched, his words hitting closer to home than he probably realized. Or maybe he did realize—it was Peter, after all.

Before you could respond, Olivia leaned across Oscar from her seat on the other side. “Is it just me, or does this whole ‘Phantom versus Raoul’ thing feel unnecessarily stressful?”

Oscar smirked. “It’s just you. You’re always Team Raoul.”

“And you’re always wrong,” Olivia retorted, sticking her tongue out at him.

Peter chuckled, leaning back slightly but not breaking his gaze from yours. “I’d say the drama is what makes it worthwhile.”

“Exactly,” you said, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “What’s the point without a little tension?”

Peter’s lips quirked into a knowing smile. “My thoughts exactly.”

---

After the show, the four of you stepped into the cool night air, the buzz of the performance still lingering in the air. Olivia and Oscar were ahead, debating the musical’s ending, leaving you and Peter a few steps behind.

“You’re quiet again,” Peter noted, glancing at you. “Second thoughts about the story?”

You shook your head, pulling your coat tighter around you. “No, it was perfect. Just… a lot to process.”

“I get that,” he said softly, his hands tucked into his pockets. “It has a way of sticking with you.”

You hesitated, your gaze flicking to him. “Which side were you on? The Phantom or Raoul?”

Peter tilted his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “The Phantom, of course.”

“Of course?” you asked, arching an eyebrow.

He nodded, his tone teasing but layered with something deeper. “The Phantom’s not perfect, but he’s passionate. Compelling. He knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to take risks to get it.”

“And Raoul?” you pressed, though your voice was softer now.

Peter shrugged, his gaze steady on yours. “Raoul’s safe. Predictable. But sometimes, safe isn’t what we need.”

Your breath caught, his words hanging in the space between you like a challenge. You opened your mouth to respond, but Olivia’s voice called back to you, breaking the moment.

“Y/N, come on! Oscar wants to hit a diner before heading back.”

You turned toward her, grateful for the distraction. “Coming!”

Peter’s hand brushed lightly against your arm, stopping you for just a moment longer. “Think about it, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “What’s worth the risk?”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest, but he didn’t wait for an answer. With a faint smile, he followed Olivia and Oscar down the street, leaving you to catch up and wonder if the Phantom’s shadow was closer than you’d realized.

---

Peter’s father was having another party, celebrating something in the aristocratic circle you were sure you wouldn’t understand.

The Lyman estate was as grand as ever, with its sprawling grounds and towering facade lit up against the evening sky. You adjusted the strap of your dress, feeling slightly out of place despite the polished look Olivia had helped you put together.

“It’s just a party,” Olivia had said as she zipped up your dress. “The same champagne, the same tiny hors d'oeuvres, and the same people trying to one-up each other with stories about their vacations. You’ll survive.”

Easy for her to say—this was her family. For you, it felt like stepping into a world you’d never quite belong to, even if you’d been tagging along to events like this since you were kids.

“Y/N,” Peter’s familiar voice drew your attention as you lingered near the garden entrance, trying to avoid the bustle of the main hall. He approached, his navy suit tailored to perfection and his tie slightly loosened, as if to project effortless ease.

“You’re hiding,” he teased, stopping a few paces away.

“Not hiding,” you countered softly, fiddling with your clutch. “Just… taking a moment.”

Peter smiled faintly, his gaze flicking over you. “You look stunning tonight.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you glanced away. “Thanks. Olivia helped.”

“She has good taste,” Peter said, stepping closer. “Though, I’m sure you’d look stunning regardless.”

The compliment hung in the air, and you struggled to find a response. Before you could, Peter gestured toward the garden path. “Walk with me?”

You hesitated but nodded, falling into step beside him. The air outside was cooler, the faint hum of the party muffled by the hedges and tall trees.

“You’ve been avoiding the main hall,” Peter said after a moment, his tone casual.

You shrugged. “It’s… a lot. These parties always feel a little overwhelming.”

“I get that,” he replied, his hands tucked into his pockets. “It’s all so… polished. A show, really.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the hint of disdain in his tone. “You don’t like them?”

Peter chuckled softly. “I tolerate them. But if I had a choice? I’d skip the champagne and small talk for something a bit more… real.”

“Real?” you echoed, curious.

He tilted his head, his gaze meeting yours. “Something like this. A quiet walk. No pretense, no expectations.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard. “That does sound nice.”

Peter’s smile softened, and for a moment, the air between you felt charged with something unspoken. But before either of you could say more, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses drifted toward you, pulling you back to reality.

“Shall we head back?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“Not yet,” Peter said, his tone light but firm. “You’ve spent enough time worrying about everyone else tonight. Let me distract you a bit longer.”

You hesitated, your fingers brushing against the pendant around your neck—a small habit you’d picked up since he gave it to you. Finally, you nodded. “Alright. Distract me.”

Peter’s lips quirked into a small smile, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Gladly.”

You followed him down the garden path, the faint glow of lanterns lining the way. The chill in the air nipped at your skin, and you hugged your arms to yourself, regretting not bringing a shawl. Peter noticed almost instantly.

“You’re cold,” he said, his tone leaving no room for denial.

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, though your shiver betrayed you.

Peter stopped walking, shrugging off his blazer in one fluid motion. Before you could protest, he draped it over your shoulders, his hands lingering for a moment as he adjusted it. The warmth of the fabric and the faint scent of his cologne made your heart skip a beat.

“Better?” he asked, stepping back.

You nodded, your voice soft. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, starting down the path again. “I can’t have you freezing out here. It’d ruin my distraction plan.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “Your plan’s working, by the way. I don’t think I’ve thought about anything else tonight.”

“Good,” Peter said, his gaze flicking to you briefly. “That’s the goal.”

The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a while, the sound of gravel crunching underfoot the only thing breaking the stillness. The garden was peaceful, the faint hum of the party fading into the background. It felt like you were in your own little world, away from the chaos and expectations.

“You’ve always been good at this,” you said suddenly, glancing at him.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “At what?”

“Making people feel like they’re the only one in the room,” you replied, your cheeks warming slightly. “It’s… a talent.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I think you give me too much credit.”

“I don’t think I do,” you said softly, your gaze dropping to the path. “You’re good at making people feel seen. Heard.”

Peter stopped walking, turning to face you. “What about you, Y/N?” he asked, his voice quiet but pointed. “Do you feel seen?”

Your breath hitched, and you looked up at him, his expression open but intense. “Sometimes,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “When it’s you.”

The faintest smile touched his lips, and he took a small step closer. “Good.”

The air between you felt charged, the unspoken tension that had been building for weeks finally coming to a head. Peter’s eyes searched yours, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again. He leaned in slightly, as if testing the waters, and your heart raced.

But before either of you could close the gap, a distant voice called out. “Peter? Are you out here?”

The spell broke, and you stepped back, your cheeks burning. Peter exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening as he glanced toward the direction of the voice.

“We should get back,” you said quickly, your voice unsteady. “They’ll be looking for us.”

Peter turned back to you, his eyes unreadable. “Y/N—”

You shook your head, stepping past him. “It’s fine. Let’s go.”

You barely made it a few steps before his hand caught your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “Wait,” he said, his tone low but insistent.

You turned back, your heart pounding as he stepped closer. Before you could say anything, his hand moved to your cheek, and he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed or hesitant. It was steady, purposeful, and everything you hadn’t let yourself imagine. His lips were warm against yours, his touch grounding, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded away.

When he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his hand still rested gently against your cheek. His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your fingers brushing the fabric of his jacket draped over your shoulders. “Peter…”

He searched your face, his expression open but cautious. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

You didn’t say anything right away, your mind racing. The kiss had sent a thrill through you, a warmth that settled in your chest, but there was also a lingering uncertainty. You had spent so long trying to untangle your feelings—toward him, toward Joshua, toward everything. But in this moment, none of it seemed to matter.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you said softly, the words tumbling out before you could overthink them.

Peter exhaled, relief flashing across his face before his hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you into another kiss. This one was deeper, hungrier, like he’d been holding back for years and couldn’t any longer.

When you finally broke apart, your heart was racing, and you could barely catch your breath. Peter rested his forehead against yours, his voice low. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to say that.”

You managed a small laugh, though your voice shook. “Probably not as long as I’ve waited for you.”

He tilted his head, his smile soft but teasing. “Is that so?”

You nodded, looking down at the ground. “Since we were kids. Maybe not this exact thing, but… yeah.”

Peter’s hand moved to your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was steady. “I wish I’d known sooner. Maybe I wouldn’t have been so much of an idiot.”

“You’re still an idiot,” you said, though there was no heat in your tone.

He laughed, a sound that made your chest tighten in the best way. “Fair enough. But I’m trying, Y/N. I need you to know that.”

You nodded, your fingers brushing the edge of his sleeve. “I know. And I see it. I do.”

Peter looked at you like he wanted to say more, but the distant sound of footsteps on gravel interrupted the moment. He straightened slightly, his hand falling away from your cheek. “We should get back before they start sending a search party.”

“Right,” you said quickly, adjusting his jacket around your shoulders. “We don’t want to draw any more attention.”

He smirked, offering you his arm. “Shall we?”

You hesitated, then slid your hand into the crook of his elbow. As you walked back toward the main house, his closeness felt like a shield against the noise and expectations waiting for you inside.

Neither of you spoke as you reentered the party, but Peter’s hand brushed against yours, a silent promise that left your heart fluttering.

---

You opened your apartment door to see Peter in his usual outfit. He looked you up and down, a slight frown on his face. “It’s cold outside, why don’t you have a jacket?”

You gave him a slight pout, “it’ll ruin my outfit.”

Peter’s lips twitched into a small smirk, though the concern in his eyes didn’t waver. “Though that dress looks incredible on you,” he said, his voice soft but insistent, “I don’t want you to get sick again. Humor me?”

You sighed dramatically, rolling your eyes. “Fine. You’re impossible, you know that?”

Peter grinned, stepping back to lean casually against the doorframe. “I’ve been told. But I’m also right, aren’t I?”

You gave him a quick, light kiss, feeling his smile against your lips. “Don’t let it go to your head,” you murmured, turning toward your bedroom. “I’ll grab a jacket.”

As you disappeared down the hall, Peter watched you with a faint smile, his hands tucked into his pockets. When you returned, shrugging into a light jacket that didn’t clash with your dress, he straightened, his expression smug.

“There,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Happy now?”

“Delighted,” he replied smoothly, reaching for the door. “Shall we?”

You locked up and stepped into the crisp evening air, Peter’s hand resting lightly on the small of your back as he guided you toward the car.

“Where are we going, anyway?” you asked, glancing at him.

Peter’s eyes glinted with amusement. “It’s a surprise.”

You huffed playfully. “You know I hate surprises.”

“Which is exactly why I planned one,” he countered, his tone teasing but gentle.

The drive was filled with soft music and comfortable silence, Peter occasionally stealing glances at you. It had been like this for weeks now—easy, familiar, and strangely comforting. He’d become your rock in the chaos, grounding you without ever pushing too hard.

“Alright, we’re here,” Peter said, pulling into a quiet parking lot.

You looked out the window, your brow furrowing. “An art gallery?”

Peter stepped out of the car and came around to open your door, offering his hand as you stepped out. “Not just any art gallery,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, as if sharing a secret.

Inside, the gallery was quiet, the faint hum of soft lighting illuminating the pieces on display. It wasn’t crowded—just a handful of other people scattered throughout the space, their voices hushed.

“You brought me to a gallery at night?” you asked, glancing at him as he led you toward a small alcove.

“You said you wanted to get out of your head,” Peter replied easily. “Art has a way of doing that. Besides, I thought you’d like this exhibit.”

He stopped in front of a painting, his hand still lightly on your arm as you took it in. It was abstract but vibrant, the colors swirling together in a way that felt both chaotic and intentional.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Peter didn’t respond right away, his gaze fixed on you rather than the painting. “It reminded me of you,” he said softly.

You turned to him, your heart skipping a beat. “Why?”

“The way it draws you in,” he said, his voice steady but quiet. “It’s complex, layered… but there’s a warmth to it. Something you can’t look away from.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked back at the painting, your fingers brushing lightly over the pendant around your neck. “Peter…”

He stepped closer, his voice low but firm. “I mean it, Y/N. You’re… something else entirely.”

You turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he replied, his lips twitching into a small smile. “Just… let me be here. With you.”

You hesitated, the vulnerability in his eyes stealing the breath from your lungs. “You’re already here,” you said softly.

“And I’m not going anywhere,” Peter said, his hand brushing against yours. “Not unless you tell me to.”

You looked up at him, your voice barely audible. “I don’t want you to.”

Peter’s smile deepened, his hand slipping fully into yours as he gave it a gentle squeeze. “Good.”

For the rest of the evening, you wandered the gallery together, his presence grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. You didn’t think about the past or the uncertainty of the future. For now, it was just the two of you, lost in the quiet beauty of the moment.

---

“I feel bad leaving you at your apartment on Valentine’s, Liv. You sure you don’t want to come to the party with us?” You gave her your best puppy eyes, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Olivia laughed, shaking her head as she finished tying her hair into a loose bun. “Y/N, you’ve got a date. You’re not ditching me. Besides, I’ve got plans.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Plans? You didn’t mention that earlier. What plans?”

She smirked, grabbing a glass of wine from the counter. “Plans to spend the night in my pajamas, eating chocolate, and watching Colin Firth movies. It’s a solid tradition.”

“That sounds better than a Valentine’s party,” you admitted with a small laugh.

Olivia grinned. “See? No need to feel guilty. I’m perfectly content.” She pointed at you with her glass. “You, on the other hand, need to stop hovering and finish getting ready. Peter’s going to be here soon.”

Your stomach fluttered at the mention of his name, and you glanced at the clock. “I guess you’re right. Thanks, Liv.”

“Always,” she said, raising her glass in a mock toast. “Now go knock his socks off.”

---

When Peter arrived, he was dressed impeccably, as usual, in a charcoal suit that fit him perfectly. He looked you up and down, his expression softening into a smile. “You look stunning,” he said, his voice warm.

“Thanks,” you said, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “You clean up well too.”

“Ready to go?” he asked, offering his arm.

You nodded, slipping your hand through his. “Let’s do this.”

---

The Valentine’s party was in full swing by the time you arrived, the venue decorated with twinkling lights and an abundance of red and pink. Couples mingled, champagne flutes in hand, while a live band played soft jazz in the background.

Peter stayed close to you, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back as you navigated the crowd. “Not too overwhelming, I hope?” he asked, leaning closer so you could hear him over the music.

“It’s nice,” you said, glancing around. “More elegant than I expected.”

He chuckled. “They like to go all out for these things.”

You sipped the champagne he’d handed you earlier, your nerves settling slightly. Peter had a way of making you feel at ease, even in the most crowded rooms.

---

At one point, Peter led you to the edge of the dance floor, his expression unreadable. “Dance with me?” he asked, his voice soft.

You hesitated, glancing at the couples swaying gracefully to the music. “You know I’m not very good… And there are so many people watching…”

Peter’s smile softened, and he tilted his head, his tone gentle but teasing. “They’re not watching you. Trust me, they’re too busy worrying about how they look.” He held out his hand, his eyes steady on yours. “Come on. I’ll make it easy for you.”

You bit your lip, still unsure, but the warmth in his gaze eased some of your nerves. “Fine. Just… don’t let me trip.”

Peter chuckled as you placed your hand in his. “I wouldn’t dare.” He led you to the edge of the dance floor, his movements fluid and confident. He turned to face you, slipping one hand around your waist while the other held yours. “See? Easy.”

You glanced around, your heart racing. “For you, maybe.”

Peter leaned closer, his voice low. “For us.” His confidence was contagious, and you found yourself relaxing slightly. As he guided you in a gentle rhythm, you tried to focus on him instead of the crowd.

“You’re doing great,” he murmured, his breath warm against your cheek.

“I’m barely moving,” you replied, though you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

“And yet, you’re perfect,” Peter countered, his lips twitching into a small smirk. He stepped back slightly, spinning you gently in a twirl.

A surprised laugh escaped you as you spun, your dress flowing lightly around you. “Peter!”

He caught you effortlessly, pulling you back into his arms. “What? I had to show you off a little.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you couldn’t help laughing. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are,” he teased, his hand tightening slightly on your waist as he brought you closer.

The music slowed, and Peter’s steps matched the gentle tempo, keeping you steady even as your nerves started to fade. You glanced up at him, your voice quieter now. “This isn’t so bad.”

“Told you,” he said, his tone soft but smug. “You just needed the right partner.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “You always have to get the last word, don’t you?”

Peter tilted his head, considering. “Not always. But I’ll make an exception for you.”

The song ended, and the crowd clapped politely, but Peter didn’t release you right away. His gaze lingered on yours, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the room disappeared.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your fingers brushing against his.

“For what?” he asked, his voice low.

“For making me forget how much I hate dancing,” you teased lightly, though the gratitude in your tone was real.

Peter smiled, his hand brushing against your cheek. “I’d say you’ve officially conquered it.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but someone bumped lightly into Peter’s shoulder, pulling you both back to reality. He sighed, stepping aside to let the couple pass. “Looks like the dance floor’s getting crowded. Want to find somewhere quieter?”

You nodded, your chest still fluttering from the moment. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Peter led you away from the crowd, his hand resting lightly on your back as he guided you toward a quieter corner of the venue. As the hum of the party faded into the background, you glanced at him, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m glad I came tonight,” you said quietly.

Peter looked at you, his expression warm. “So am I.”

---

The chicken and potatoes were placed in the oven. You took off your oven mitt and walked into the living room, where Peter sat on your couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him as he fiddled with your radio. The TV played on mute, casting a soft glow across the room.

“How’s it going?” you asked, leaning against the doorway with a small smile.

Peter glanced up, a screwdriver in one hand and a look of concentration on his face. “Almost there. I think one of the wires was loose.”

You crossed the room, sitting on the armrest of the couch. “You didn’t have to fix it, you know. I could’ve just bought a new one.”

Peter smirked, glancing at you before returning his attention to the radio. “And let you replace a perfectly good radio just because of a loose wire? Absolutely not. Besides, I like a challenge.”

“Is that what this is? A challenge?” you teased, nudging his arm lightly.

“With this ancient thing? Definitely,” Peter said, chuckling. “But I’m winning.”

You laughed softly, the sound easing the cozy quiet between you. “You’re impossible.”

“So I’ve been told,” he replied, grinning as he twisted the screwdriver one last time. “Alright, moment of truth. Ready?”

“Do I have a choice?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Peter flicked the switch, and a burst of static filled the room before it smoothed into the soft strains of a classical piano piece. He leaned back, a triumphant look on his face. “There we go.”

You clapped your hands lightly, impressed despite yourself. “Okay, I’m officially convinced. You’re a genius.”

Peter grinned, setting the screwdriver aside. “I’ll try not to let it go to my head.”

“Too late,” you teased, sliding off the armrest and sitting next to him. The warmth of his shoulder brushing against yours made your stomach flip, though you tried not to show it.

Peter’s gaze flicked to you, the teasing glint in his eyes softening. “You’re in a good mood tonight.”

“I wonder why,” you said lightly, gesturing toward the now-working radio. “I mean, how could I not be? I’ve got dinner in the oven and free tech support on my couch.”

Peter chuckled, leaning back against the cushions. “I’ll take the credit for at least half of that.”

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “Seriously, though. Thanks for fixing it. I know it’s just a radio, but it means a lot.”

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “You don’t have to thank me, Y/N. I like doing things for you.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and you glanced down at your hands. “You’re just… really good at being here, you know? I don’t think I’ve said that enough.”

Peter reached over, his fingers brushing lightly against yours. “You don’t have to say it. I can see it.”

You looked up at him, his steady gaze making your heart race. “Still… it’s nice to hear sometimes.”

He smiled, his hand lingering on yours. “Then I’ll say it, too. I like being here. With you.”

The room fell quiet, the soft hum of the radio filling the space between you. Finally, Peter stood up, his hand holding yours. “What would you say to a dance?”

You let out a muffled chuckle, “what’s up with you and dancing?”

Peter smirked, tugging lightly at your hand until you stood. “It’s not about the dancing. It’s about the company.”

You rolled your eyes but let him pull you close. His hands rested lightly on your waist, and yours instinctively found their way to his shoulders. “I don’t think this qualifies as dancing,” you teased.

Peter grinned, swaying gently with you to the soft piano music coming from the radio. “It’s our version of dancing. Much better than all that formal nonsense.”

You relaxed into his hold, letting your body move with his. “I think you just like an excuse to pull me into your orbit.”

“Caught me,” he said lightly, though the warmth in his gaze gave his words a deeper meaning.

The two of you swayed in comfortable silence, your head eventually resting against his chest. His hand shifted, brushing lightly against your back as he pressed a kiss to your temple. You tilted your face up to look at him, and the look in his eyes made your heart skip.

Without a word, Peter leaned in and kissed you, his lips soft and deliberate against yours. The music faded into the background, the world narrowing to just the two of you. His hand slid to your jaw, tilting your face to deepen the kiss as he guided you in a slow turn.

Unbeknownst to you, the muted TV caught his attention as the breaking news banner flashed across the screen. The headline read: "Body of Joshua Beckett Found; Foul Play Suspected." A reporter’s voice narrated the grim discovery as images of Joshua’s smiling face and the scene of the investigation played.

Peter’s eyes darkened briefly, but his movements didn’t falter. He smoothly shifted you so your back was to the screen, blocking your view entirely as he deepened the kiss.

“Peter,” you murmured against his lips, your hands gripping his shirt lightly.

“Hmm?” he responded, his voice low, his lips brushing yours with each syllable.

“Nothing,” you whispered, the thought slipping away as he kissed you again.

He swayed you both a few more steps before finally slowing to a stop, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips. His forehead rested against yours as you caught your breath, your hands still resting on his shoulders.

Peter’s arms tightened slightly around you, guiding your head to rest gently against his chest as the two of you continued to sway. His hand traced light, soothing circles over your back, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat was calming, almost hypnotic. You let out a soft sigh, closing your eyes and leaning into him.

“Comfortable?” Peter murmured, his voice low and warm, close to your ear.

You nodded, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Very.”

“Good.” His hand lingered on your lower back as he slowed the swaying to a near standstill. He tilted his head slightly, keeping an eye on the TV just beyond your line of sight. The news anchor’s voice faded, and the screen switched to a cheerful weather update.

Peter exhaled subtly, his grip on you shifting as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. Then, gently, he eased back just enough to look at you. “Fixing that radio was definitely worth it,” he said, his lips quirking into a small, playful smile.

You tilted your head, catching the faint amusement in his tone. “Just the radio?”

Peter chuckled, leaning down to press another soft kiss to your lips. “And maybe the dancing,” he admitted. His hand slid to your jaw, holding you steady as he kissed you again, slower this time, as if savoring the moment.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice quiet but steady. “You’re impossible to resist, you know that?”

Your cheeks flushed, and you gave a small laugh, your fingers toying with the fabric of his shirt. “Takes one to know one.”

He grinned, his hand slipping to your waist. “Touché.” His gaze softened, and he tilted his head slightly, brushing his nose against yours. “Should we check on dinner before we get too distracted?”

You nodded, though you made no effort to move just yet. “Probably.”

Peter’s smile deepened, and he kissed you one more time before stepping back and reaching for your hand. “Come on, then. Let’s not burn the place down.”

The two of you moved toward the kitchen, his fingers lacing with yours as he walked beside you. It was easy, natural—like the rhythm you’d fallen into with him over the past few months. You didn’t think about anything else, just the warmth of his hand in yours and the simple comfort of his presence.

And if Peter’s grip on your hand tightened slightly as you passed by the muted TV, you didn’t notice.

so in my head (even though when peter murdered betty it was completely justified, she was blackmailing him!) reader is actually the 'affair.' you're telling me that he would willingly have a relationship with a prostitute when he got upset that reader goes on a date, or even ignores him?? yeah, no. he's too obsessed. which is why i switched it and had him kill joshua.

this was going to be a short oneshot, and after the first two dates with joshua peter was going to reveal his feelings for reader and it was going to be a happy ever after, but then i thought "wait, he could just kill joshua" to keep it somewhat canon to the character of peter. and i know that all of this could've been done quicker if they just talked to each other and confessed their feelings, but as i wrote it, i made it so peter wanted you to confess to him first (which is what he heard when you left that voicemail for joshua, even though you don't know that peter heard it). he may be obsessed with you, but he still wants to know that you actually want him.

anyways, thanks for reading! and i hope it was up to y'all's standards <33

[mcrdvcks]

i just watched scoop (2006) with hugh jackman and scarlett johansson for the first time and now i want to write something for peter lyman😭

(so what if he murdered a woman, she deserved it after blackmailing him!)