Take Me to Neverland || OUAT

28: Burnt Breakfast

I woke up to a pair of familiar vibrant green eyes. A toothy grin accompanied it well as I jerked back, completely unprepared by his closeness. "WOAH there-"

"Morning," Peter smirked, clearly unphased by my repulsive actions. "I tried making breakfast...," he paused in uncertainty, "the key word is tried." He pulled back so that there was a significant four inches between our faces.

My wide awake eyes glimpsed down to his sleek lips out of pure curiosity. The kiss from last night only seemed to make my cheeks blush now, and the bright morning light streaming through the window did nothing but make it more noticeable. His devilish smirk grew wider. "Your cheeks are red."

"Shut up, I know."

He chuckled as I edged out from underneath my covers, the cold started settling into my skin.

I pushed myself up awkwardly with a groan, pushing back a strand of my hair behind my ear.

The memories of Wolfe and his warnings suddenly flooded in from last night and the unanimous barrier in my mind did nothing to stop it. A searing headache struck my head like a semi. It was too much to keep myself from shaking my head to clear my thoughts.

"Are you alright?" I glanced up to his voice and saw that his smile had disappeared. Instead, he was watching me intently with a pinch of concern in his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, plastering on a fake smile. He wasn't buying the disguise.

Doubt was still visible across his beautiful sunlit features. His eyebrows twisted down in a knot and his lips parted just slightly, giving me a faltering look.

I knew Peter well enough to know that it was in my best interest to change the topic before he caught on too soon. "So...," I drew out the word endlessly, making it appear 3x longer than it actually was, "I never knew that you could cook?"

"I wouldn't call it cooking," he said, a guilty grin flashing across his face, "but it's fairly close."

I tried faking a laugh, but it came out sounding like a strangled platypus who's vocal chords have been ripped out by an anteater.

Okay, yes, I am a terrible fake-laugher, but I never really noticed it until now.

Peter raised an expecting 'really' eyebrow. "Amber. What is the problem?"

"-problem? What problem. I don't know..."

Peter gave me a look. Scratch that. He gave me the look.

It was something about his forest green eyes that captured my attention. Golden flecks highlighted his orbs in an arrangement of shades due to the scattered lighting.

And I swear, at that moment paused in time and space, his eyes never looked so breathtaking.

"The truth," he murmured underneath his breath. "I want just the truth."

His deep voice would have been considered sexy as hell if it weren't for his sudden interest in my well-being.

My lips pursed, daunted by what he might think. I timidly let my gaze drop and my shoulders relax. A shaky breath slipped from my lips as I made sense of the jumbled words in my thoughts. "It's about Sugar," I muttered indistinctly.

"About what?"

"Sugar," I repeated, except this time with more boldness in my tone. "She isn't... what I thought she was. I don't even think she's human." The silence that sedated the air around us seemed to thicken into a smog. Peter remained emotionless, his gaze seemed to be focused on nothing in particular, like as if he was thinking.