Chapter Text
“Have you always liked school, Covey?” His question interrupted her musings on the Battle of Baltimore and she looked up from her US History notecards to see him watching her, his brow raised quizzically.
“Well, yeah, I think so.” It wasn’t much of a reply, not exactly elegant, but she wasn’t quite sure how to answer. “I’ve always loved to read. It’s my solace. And Margo always emphasized how important our studies were and obviously dad sets the bar high, even though he isn’t really consciously pressuring us to do well. So...yes. I like to learn new things and school is important to me. And I can’t really think of a time when that wasn’t the case.”
He was still watching her, a small smile on his lips. He twirled his pen across his fingers. Peter was always fidgeting, always moving, like his body had trouble reining itself in. She smiled back, but only glanced up at him, then back at her notecards.
“What about you, Kavinsky? Do you like school?” She kept her eyes to her books as she asked. She was genuinely curious what his answer would be. Classes were more challenging for Peter, so she didn’t want to make it seem like she was putting him on the spot or making him feel inferior.
Glancing upwards, she could see him give a noncommittal shrug.
“Yeah, I mean, I’m not a smarty pants like you, but it’s not so bad. Better this year than last, at least.”
“Why is that?” She asked in turn. Not something she’d expected him to say. She gave him her full attention now. He stretched his arms behind his head and scratched the back of his neck with his long fingers.
“Well, Gen and I were all over the place last year and I never really knew where we stood, so, just managing our relationship took up a lot of time. And, I mean, she’s smart, but she doesn’t really want to work at it at all, so she didn’t really want to spend our free time studying.”
He leaned back in his chair a bit more and let his eyes wander around the room as he talked, clearly letting his thoughts flow freely. Before they’d started fake dating, she never really realized what a sensitive person he was. He didn’t seem anxious at all about sharing his ideas with her or making himself vulnerable in her presence. She loved that they could “talk about real stuff,” as he’d put it.
“And, it was like no matter how I did on a test, whether it was great or I totally bombed it, she’d just brush it off. Like we were supposed to be above grades or something.” He was looking at her again, his expression neutral, relaxed. “And, at the time, I mean, I just went along with it because she was right, like, I have lacrosse, so I don’t have to do as well, but now…” that I’m with you—he hadn’t said it, but her mind completed the thought that he’d let hang in the air. “Now that I see you studying and it’s just part of our routine, I just think maybe I should have cared more before. Like, it’s cool to be smart, you know? It’s fun to actually know things and be confident in class instead of having to nod along and spout out some BS and hope that no one else is going to notice that I didn’t have a fucking clue what I was talking about.”
She was trying to keep her tone casual and her face placid, but his words had her heart racing and legs feeling jittery. He thought she was smart. She made him care about school. She was cool. And even though he’d more so implied it than said it directly, he’d rather spend time with her than with Gen. Ahhhhhh!!!!
“Yes, exactly. It’s like, knowing things is sort of like a security blanket. You can feel confident and secure because no matter what else is going on, at least you know what’s true and what’s not.” Her enthusiasm was probably coming through in her voice, so much for playing it cool. But honestly, it was hard to suppress that excitement, especially when he complimented her. She really couldn’t help it.
And that was true. It’s why she put so much effort into her education. She knew it was objectively important that she do well in school now. It set her up for opportunities down the road, but it also provided a sense of relief. The classroom was her domain. She didn’t understand boys. She wasn’t athletic. She couldn’t sing or play an instrument. She certainly had no sway in the cafeteria..until recently. But, she was intelligent. Teachers liked her. The guidance counselor, Mrs. Miller, liked her. She didn’t have to fret, too much anyway, that when she got her paper back, it was going to be covered in red ink.
“Yes! Totally! ‘I drink and I know things.’ Tyrion Lannister totally knows his shit.” He was grinning and animated now, leaning across the kitchen table towards her, gesturing with his hands.
“Wait, what?” Right now, she didn’t know things. “Who is Tyrion Lannister? Oh my god! Is he on our US History midterm. I don’t have a notecard for him.” She’d had a sudden moment of panic and was flipping to the index of her textbook. Lannister...it sounded British. Maybe he was a lesser known lord from the War of 1812.
“C’mon, Covey!” He was guffawing loudly now and his expression showed both amusement and shock. “Tyrion Lannister? Game of Thrones? HBO?”
She gaped like a fish and raised her hands. “I don’t…”
She didn’t get to finish the thought because he’d scooped up her carefully arranged notecards and closed the textbook.
“Ok. Study break. I can’t believe you haven’t seen Game of Thrones?! It’s like, an institution.” He’d gotten up out of his chair and come around to her side of the table, pulling out her own and then placing his hands on her shoulders to guide her to the couch in his living room.
His hands gently clasped around her upper arms, his body close to hers as he walked behind her. This was something she could get used to. They always touched at school. They had to maintain the facade. But, more and more they’d both found moments and ways to touch one another when they were alone, too. Nothing too forward, but a brush of the fingertips across her arm or his hand placed low on her back, a gentle pressure. Her knee brushing against his thigh as they studied or sat next to one another at the Cafe. Leaning into his side or his chest as they walked to her house. She knew that Peter was a touchy feely kind of guy. He was physical with everyone, but she certainly was not. And lately, she initiated contact as often as he did. Her body sought his almost unconsciously. Damn his chiseled good looks and bright, welcoming personality. And right now, as she sat next to him on the couch, his arm draped over the back, her feet tucked up next to her, her body leaning into his side, she had trouble convincing herself that this wasn’t something more, too.
“Oh, I should have checked first. The show’s kind of known for being explicit - like naked people and blood, the works. Is that ok?” He turned his head to look at her, the arm holding the remote balancing on his left knee.
“Umm yeah, yeah that’s fine.” Her voice was soft and a little squeaky. Not at all mature or confident sounding. Once again, she did not seem like a person who ‘knew things’. But it was true. She usually enjoyed her smut in the privacy of her own room. Reading was a solitary activity and it gave her plenty of time to let her mind wander, manipulating the words and images they created in whatever way she so chose. It’s not like she hadn’t watched porn before or seen some sexual thriller on TV; she was friends with Chris for goodness sake. She’d seen naked people. But, she had not seen naked people with a boy in the room. Probably not even with a boy in the house. She hadn’t explored those storylines yet when she and Josh were still attached at the hip. And, the way she felt about Peter, the way she looked at Peter, was certainly not the way she’d felt about Josh.
“Ok great.” He looked back to the television and queued up the episode. “If you get anxious, just let me know and I can shut it off or hide your eyes or something, ok?” He gave her a small smile and a wink. He was teasing her, but she knew him well enough now to know that he really meant it. He was a protective person, and he wouldn’t knowingly put her in a situation that made her uncomfortable or upset. He’d look out for her.
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He couldn’t believe she’d never seen Game of Thrones. She really was an 80 year old woman. All of her pop culture references were at least 20 years old. But, on the bright side, that meant this was another first that he could share with her. And that, he found, was one of his new favorite things. He loved the way her eyes got all big and round and she blushed or grinned like a maniac. And knowing that he put that smile on her face, well he couldn’t help but grin right back.
As they watched the ranger stumble upon the bodies of the wildlings, he could feel her tensing a bit and instinctively snuggling closer to him, turning her head slightly. He’d forgotten what a gory intro the series had and he knew that horror wasn’t exactly her cup of tea. Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea.
“Sorry, Covey, I forgot that the beginning was pretty zombie heavy.” She was completely tucked into his side now and had grabbed the throw blanket off the side of the couch and brought it up to her chin.
She jumped a little when one of the whites showed up out of the blue. “That’s ok,” she squeaked, “just maybe hold me a little tighter and promise you won’t laugh if I close my eyes.” Hold her tighter? That he could definitely do.
“Yeah, of course,” he replied and brought his arm down off the back of the couch to wrap around her shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze in solidarity. Gen had actually liked scary movies, so he wasn't immediately prepared for Lara Jean’s reaction. Though admittedly, he and Gen had stopped actually watching the movies after they’d turned 14 and pretty much just hooked up instead, so, he wasn’t sure he could really judge her interest in them either.
“Eeeh!” She made a little noise and glancing down over his shoulder he could see her squeezing her eyes shut. He leaned over to whisper in her ear.
“It’s actually almost done.”
She peeked up at him, not checking the screen yet. “Oh, ok. Great. What’s this about again?”
He wanted her to like it and to trust him and his choices, so he knew he’d have to pitch the show well. “So, it’s about this place called Westeros, which is basically like medieval England, and the different families that are vying for power there--”
“‘Vying’, good word choice.” She interrupted him and nudged his ribs.
“Hey, give me some credit, Covey. I mean, I can read, you know.” He teased back and knocked her knee with his. “So, yeah, the two main families are the Starks from the North and the Lannisters from the West. And they just kind of have a different outlook on how things should be run. But the characterization is awesome. And they never do what you’d expect which is different and seriously cool. It’s intense.”
“Well, that seems harmless enough. So, no more zombies?” She giggled a little and scrunched up her nose. Her expressions were so fucking adorable.
“No more zombies, at least not this episode. Pinky promise.” And he brought his left hand over to her, pinky extended. She removed her left arm from underneath the blanket and wrapped her pinky around his.
“Alright. I trust you.” She looked directly into his eyes as she said it, and the soft tone of her voice made it seem like she wasn’t just talking about the show.
The theme music wrapped up and they both went back to watching the character introductions. When she’d settled back in, she’d draped the blanket over both of them, and even though they’d watched movies and snuggled before, somehow being tucked under the covers together, it just felt more intimate, more real. He could feel where their legs were pressed up against one another, where her fingers brushed gently along his abs when she wiggled in her seat, how her chest expanded and her shoulders lifted slightly when she took a deep breath. He could smell her hair--coconut shampoo today. She always smelled so good--sweet, sometimes a little floral, but always this light scent that was just Lara Jean. When he hadn’t seen her for a day or two, it was the first thing he noticed when they met up again. And he was certain that the way they were pressed tightly together right now, it’d linger on his clothes long after he dropped her at home tonight.
More and more, things like that stayed with him. The way she smelled. The sound of her laughter. What she looked like sitting at his kitchen table. How it felt to have her pressed up against him like she was right now. He didn’t want to let go of any of it. He wanted to keep her, all of her. He wanted it to be real. No more of this pretend bullshit. Just call a spade a fucking spade and say how he felt. But, he knew that she was cautious. He also knew she was attracted to him. And, that she had really started to let down her guard. But, that didn’t mean he should just rush right in. He needed a strategy. He needed to be smart about this or he was going to scare her off.
“Is she?” He hadn’t been paying close attention to the show, just focused on her, so he didn’t realize what part they were actually at until…
“Yeah, that’s, she was definitely just giving him a blowjob, right? And now, ok, you weren’t kidding about the nudity.” She chuckled nervously and out of the corner of his eye he could see her opening and closing her mouth. Ros’s breasts were there on screen for all to see. Suddenly he was feeling a little heated.
He cleared his throat. “Uh yeah, like I said, there’s a lot of that. I think they actually call it ‘sexposition’ because characters keep having conversations and going over these plot points and there are just people doing it that whole time. If it’s...I mean, we don’t have to watch it, Covey, if it’s, you know, weird.” He didn’t want her to be uncomfortable. Frankly, he wasn’t sure how he felt about watching it with her now that they were actually staring at Peter Dinklage and not one, but four naked women together on screen.
“Umm, I mean. Yeah, it’s a little...odd, maybe, but we’re mature, almost adults, right?” She didn’t sound confident when she said it. It was definitely more of a question than a statement, so it looked like the ball was in his court.
BANG.
“Peter!” Shit. His mom was home. If he thought it was awkward watching a sex scene with his fake girlfriend, he could only imagine the mortification that would ensue if his mom caught him watching a sex scene with Lara Jean. He quickly turned off the TV and jumped up from the couch just as his mom was walking into the kitchen.
“Could you unpack the groceries for me? I’m going to run over to Mike’s house to pick Owen up...oh, hi Lara Jean! I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were here, too.”
Lara Jean had stood up from the couch too and was folding the blanket neatly and placing it back on the sofa, grinning at his mom all the while. “Hello, Mrs. Kavinsky. It’s nice to see you, too. Peter and I were just taking a break from studying for our US History midterm.”
He could tell that his mom liked her. Honestly, what wasn’t there to like. Gen had always been a little too sweet, clearly faking it, and his mom wasn’t a stupid person. She’d never liked that they’d been so serious at such a young age. So, it was apparent, in her tone, her body language, that she was genuinely happy to see Lara Jean here instead of someone else.
“Yeah, of course mom. Happy to help.” He’d moved to the kitchen island to start unpacking the groceries and moving them to their proper locations. He noticed that Lara Jean had cleaned up their books and notecards and backpacks at the kitchen table and started unloading items into the pantry.
“Thanks, you two! I’ll be back in about thirty minutes and then I’ll get dinner on. You’re welcome to stay, as always, Lara Jean.”
“That’s very thoughtful, Mrs. Kavinsky, I really appreciate the offer.” She replied. And then his mom headed back out the door.
“Thanks for helping.” She smiled up at him and reached for the jars of marinara sauce.
“It’s not a big deal at all, Peter. Your mom seems really nice. And I’m happy to pitch in.” And that’s the thing. He knew that she really meant that. She wasn’t trying to butter his mom up or put on some kind of act. She was genuinely just a kind person who enjoyed helping others and alleviating their burdens, however big or small.
“It is a big deal, Covey. She really likes you. And she really appreciates stuff like that.” He’d moved over to put away the cold foods, so he couldn’t see her anymore since he was buried in the fridge. “I’m gone half the time anyway between lacrosse and my friends and…” He was going to say ‘you,’ but he didn’t want her to feel like she’d caused a problem.
“Me.” He stood up tall when she said it, catching her eyes from across the island.
“Yeah. But, honestly, it’s not a bad thing. I want to spend time with you and you’ve been good for me. I mean, we actually studied today. In the afternoon. Not the middle of the night. Not after I spent two hours blowing shit up on Fortnite. And, the midterm is like a week away still. Do you know the last time I actually studied sooner than the night before the test?” She was giving him that secret smile again, hiding in the corner of her mouth, and looking at him through her lashes. There was a little flush on her cheeks, too. “It was never. And, well, mom sees that. My coach actually emailed her last week to tell her what a good report he’d gotten from my teachers the last few weeks. Usually they’re hounding her about getting all my work turned in, but I’m actually on my game right now. And that’s definitely down to you…” He’d walked over to her as he spoke and now he was standing right in front of her, her back to the counter. He brushed the hair behind her ear. He noticed again that she wore it down today. The way he liked it. “My smarty pants fake girlfriend…” She met his eyes again and wet her lips. She took in a big breath, noticeable, and when she exhaled he felt it brush across his face. And then he didn’t even think, he just kissed her.
His right hand cupped the side of her face and his left gripped the countertop next to her as he stepped into her body. She was still for a moment, and he started to think he’d screwed up, read the signs wrong...then she fisted her hands in his shirt and opened her mouth to deepen their kiss. He groaned in response and moved his hand into her hair, gripping tightly. Her lips were plush and moved steadily over his own, her tongue massaging his, somewhat hesitantly at first, like she was tasting him, and god was she fucking delicious. A little spicy from the chai she’d had earlier, but sweet too like the caramel crunch cookies she’d made him earlier this week.
He moved his hand off the counter and pressed his palm against her lower back trying to get closer. Her right hand snaked up his neck and scratched the back of his head, threading her fingers into his hair. In between kisses her breaths came out in small pants and moans and he felt her hips shift unconsciously and grind against his thigh. It felt good, so fucking good. So much more intense than the first few kisses they’d shared and definitely better than what he’d imagined. He didn’t know how far he could push this, but he didn’t want to stop. Not now. Not ever.
He shifted the hand that had been on her back around to her side stroking his fingers along her rib cage. His kisses moved slowly along her jaw towards her right ear.
“You have no idea how much I want you, Covey. How long I’ve fucking wanted this.” He whispered it huskily, the register of his voice dropping with his arousal.
He nibbled her earlobe and nuzzled his nose behind the curve of her ear and she exhaled loudly, her breath lost. He held her ribs more tightly, his thumb grazing just under her breasts, his hand warmed by her skin through her thin blouse. His kisses traveled lower and he nipped at her neck, sucking and biting gently listening for another moan and reveling in her touch.
“So, for dinner I was thinking frozen pizzas and a Caesar salad.”
The voice came from the hallway. It wasn’t loud or close just yet, but it shocked his system all the same. He broke away from Lara Jean as quickly as he could, adjusting his pants in the process and stepped back towards the refrigerator, hoping the cool air would calm his senses and by him some time. When he heard his mom come into the room, he looked overtop the door, a carton of OJ clutched in his hand. “Sounds great mom, whatever you want.”
She smiled at him in return. “Ok, perfect. Lara Jean, are you going to stay for supper?”
Somehow, he’d forgotten she was still in his kitchen, jarred by what had just happened between them and then startled by his mom’s sudden entrance.
“Actually, I think I should probably head home for tonight. But I’d love to have supper with you all this weekend. Thanks again for the invitation, Mrs. Kavinsky.” She didn’t want to stay. Was she just embarrassed? Had she regretted what happened between them? Had he been too aggressive? Shit. He hoped he hadn’t totally blown it.
“Of course, dear. Anytime. Peter, I’ll go ahead and start everything while you run Lara Jean home. Say hi to your dad for me!”
“I will. And thank you again.” She was gathering up her backpack and her cardigan and had headed towards the front door. Stupidly, he followed behind her without saying a word. Maybe he should just let her take the lead. They walked to his car in awkward silence and he opened the door for her like he always did. He gave her a small smile once she was seated, and she seemed to return it, but for once, her face didn’t give much away.
Climbing into his own seat and starting the engine, he couldn’t take much more. “Alright Covey, you gotta tell me what you’re thinking right now because the silence is killing me.”
He hadn’t even had a chance to really look at her, but when she burst out laughing he knew they were going to be just fine.
“Peter! Oh my god. Your mom just walked in on us making out, hardcore making out in your kitchen. And she almost caught us watching...well soft core porn.” She had her hands on the sides of her face and her eyes were wide with disbelief. “I don’t even know what happened.” She snorted a little and then just kept going. “I mean...we were just studying. We were studying and chatting and then we were watching the show and I just couldn’t stop touching you. It was like...magnetic.”
He knew that she was processing out loud and would probably be a little embarrassed afterwards when she realized all she’d admitted, but he was thrilled to actually hear her thoughts. Her full thoughts, uncensored.
“I just. It was all I could think about. And you’re just so beautiful. And then you just kissed me. I never thought you’d kiss me. Why would you? I’m just...me.” He had to cut her off there because the idea that she was anything less than fucking perfect was frankly just absurd.
“Covey, are you fucking kidding me? Do you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you? Since you kissed me. That’s how long. Every day we were together I wanted to kiss you. Every single fucking day.” He made a point to look at her again so she knew he meant it. She was staring at him, clearly not having expected that response.
“Stop the car.” She said it matter of factly and he hit the brakes instinctively even though they were in the middle of the road. Thankfully the street was empty. “Peter Kavinsky, do you like me for real?”
He kept his left hand on the wheel and turning towards her, reached up with his right hand to tuck her hair behind her ear again, letting his thumb graze down her jawline afterwards. “Yes, Lara Jean Covey. I like you for real.”
And in that moment her face split into the most perfect, beautiful grin, lips stretched ear to ear, eyes crinkled affectionately at the corners.
“Pull over right now.” She really was bossy. Something he found he minded much less than he thought he would.
He followed her direction and parked on the side of the road underneath a large oak tree. The street was still fairly quiet since it was supper time and they were tucked into a corner of her neighborhood.
As soon as he killed the engine, she reached across the console and grabbed onto his shirt again—apparently it was becoming a theme—then pulled him into her and kissed him hard on the mouth. Their teeth bumped together a bit in her eagerness and his surprise, but they recovered pretty directly and he was ready to pull her over into his lap when she broke off abruptly, let out a huge breath, then reached for the door handle. Before he could catch up she was closing it behind her and leaning back into the window.
“You were right, Peter, it does feel good to ‘know things’.” Then she smirked at him. “Pick me up in the morning?” He nodded back at her, clearly unable to form complete sentences. And she turned around and jogged down the street, apparently set to run the rest of the way home.
He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to awaken from what clearly had to be a dream. Lara Jean Covey knew he liked her. She had kissed him. Herself. She had teased him and flirted, definitely. She wanted to do this, for real. If he knew nothing else, in that moment, he knew he was one of the luckiest guys on the whole fucking planet. And he turned the Jeep around and drove home secure in that knowledge.