“And after we calculate the angle of triangle B, what would the length of lines-“ Mrs. George fades from my hearing after a small wadded-up piece of paper landed on my desk. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Peter smirking at me. The paper was extremely loud as I attempted to unfold it but no one seemed to notice.
“You must be Cinderella, because I see that dress disappearing by midnight.” His writing was messy and clearly scrawled in haste.
“I have to pay attention. I have a C, Peter.” I wrote back and crumpled the paper up again. Once Mrs. George turned her attention to the chalkboard I threw the paper behind me. I looked back just in time to see it hit Peter in the face. His features scrunched up under that mess of hair on his head.
Not even a minute had passed when a different piece of paper landed on my desk.
“I’ll tutor you.” It said. I threw it back with a quick “Why would I want a tutor who has an *A minus *.” Once I heard the paper crinkle I turned to look at Peter. He gave me the most offended look I’ve ever seen. His eyes went wide and he threw his hand to his chest. I started laughing which made Peter start laughing.
“Do you have something you’d like to share with us? Miss Y/L/N and Mr. Parker?” Upon hearing our names Peter and I shut up fast.
“No, no, we’re fine, we’ll be quiet now.” Peter covers for us.
I turn my attention to the ticking clock on the wall to my left. Five more minutes. Five more minutes then school will be out for two whole days.
I bite my lip as the minute hand slowly makes it’s way to the three. Everyone in class starts to pile their things onto their desk.
“Don’t pack up! We still have two minutes left!” Mrs. George yells at us and promptly turns back to her tortuous ways.
Suddenly, a euphoric sound blasted through my ears. The last bell had rung.
Peter and I made eye contact and were soon sprinting out of the classroom. We started towards my locker first, as usual. My locker was only a hallway away, while his was on the third floor.
I started to enter my locker combination when Peter leaned in and started whispering to me.
“Do you have any idea how cute you looked today in Spanish? The way you were biting the end of your pencil made my heart beat so fast.” He kissed my cheek and then pulled away like nothing happened. My hands were shaking because of my embarrassment and the bastard knew it.
“What’s wrong, Y/N? Feeling embarrassed?” I look over at him and his lip is curled into a shit-eating grin.
My locker is finally open and I stuff my math book into my bag and then yank my bag out. The door slams behind me as I head off towards Peter’s locker.
“I want to kiss you.” Peter says. Not quietly, either.
“Anything else you want to do, dirty boy?” He gives me a solemn look.
“Pass chemistry.” We both start laughing.
“Hurry up you dork, we’ll miss the train.”
We took the stairs two at a time on the way up to his locker. Luckily it was just to the left of the stairs. He started putting his combination in on the pink sparkly lock I had gifted to him. It’s a bittersweet memory, since I bought it to mess with him but instead, he graciously accepted it.
Peter’s locker was now open and my own face was looking back at me. Much to my chagrin Peter had a large picture of me on the door of his locker.
“Hey! Quit staring at my girlfriend!” Peter whisper-shouts to me.
“Haha,” I say sarcastically. “I really do hate that picture. Why not take one of the good ones off my twitter?”
“Because they all look fake. I took this one at 4 AM, five seconds after you finished a joint. It’s authentic.”
“It’s gonna get you expelled.” I leaned my back against the locker next to his just as someone came up to open it. I tried to shove off it in a smooth manner but ended up crashing in to someone else.
“Smooth move.” Peter said cockily as he hastily shoved his red and blue “sweatshirt” into his bag.
“Oh, shut it.” We were then on our way to the F train. It ran at 3:32, even though the schedule said 3:30. It was currently 3:25 and the station was seven minutes away.
“We’re late! C’mon Pete.” I tried to drag him along but he was still taking his sweet time.
“What’s the problem? We can always *swing* on home.” Peter says with a smirk.
“No. Purely on account for that terrible pun that I’ve heard 4,790 times.”
“4,790? Oh, I thought that was the amount of times you wanted to kiss me.” I look at Peter but he’s already pulling me in for a kiss.
“Not now, dork. We can kiss on the train.” I give him a quick peck anyway.
“Fine.” He says, stretching it out far longer than should be humanly possible.
We ran down the steps underneath the busy streets of Queens.
Peter just barely cleared the train doors as they closed.
“So, you said we could kiss on the train?”