Aurora | H.S.

7. grape tossing

^ the dimples on this man.

On the first day of second grade I met Peter. To this day I can picture what he wore; a pale blue and yellow stripped t-shirt and blue worn overalls. His sneakers were brand new, New Balance or Adidas—I don't quite remember. His round glances were perched on his tiny button nose, flushed cheeks showing slight embarrassment and his shyness. He had moved here from a few towns over in the middle of summer.

He's always been like a brother to me—a brother that I never had. Overly protective when it came to middle school and high school crushes but unlike most siblings, I told him just about everything. It took some time for Cecilia to warm up to Peter, insisting that his glasses reminded her of Harry Potter and she somehow hated Harry Potter growing up. It was childish, but we were only little kids.

The older we all got the closer we became. Our personalities clashing occasionally, but we never got into fights or arguments. Only once did I ever get angry with Peter and it was because he tugged on my ponytail too hard. I didn't speak to him for a week. That was in the fourth grade.

Our friendship was tested on that warm day in May when I called him. He was panicked, rushing to aid me in my time of need. He sat in the car with me for hours, long after the sun set. I didn't do much talking; rather I sat there and hysterically cried while he tried to ease my pain by telling awkward jokes. Eventually, I laughed at a few.

"Whatever this is," he told me, "we'll get through this together. That's what best friends do."

I told him the truth, spewing it out a second time—even then it didn't feel real. Reality hit me the night I told my parents. Unlike my parents' disappointed and sad reactions, Peter was fuming. He had threatened to drive to the city himself and beat Austin with a baseball bat. This made me laugh too.

* * *

Peter sat on a metal folding chair in the corner of the room, muttering as he reads the newspaper. He went on tangents about politics and the drama going on in town. Leave it to him to know the latest drama considering he hears it all at the coffee shop he works at.

I flip through a Vogue magazine that my mother is unreasonably subscribed to. Everything from front to back is far too expensive for me but it's nice to gaze at the different colors and styles. Like flowers, different styles come with the different seasons.

Lingering in the back of my head is the kiss Harry and I shared a few nights ago. Normally my thoughts are clouded by the crippling anxiety I have about paying bills, but lately it's all about him. Even the simplest memory of him makes a smile tip on my lips.

As if my thoughts were pulling him in, I was surprised to see him walk into the store. The bell rang as the door shut behind him, a warm, salty breeze flowing through the store.

"Hi, Diana."

Naturally, I looked over to Peter, seeing him rise from his seat. I looked back at Harry and happily greeted him. He's clad in black jeans and a plain gray t-shirt. He shoves his hands into his pockets and comes up to the counter, close enough for me to see the perfect green irises.

"Would you like to get lunch with me?" Harry questioned.

I blushed wildly, about to respond when the bell rings again. This time, however, my mother walks in, carrying a heavy looking bag of soil. My heart jumps in my chest, eyes widening when I look over to Peter.
It's like he reads my mind.

"I'll man the fort," Peter smirked. "Hi, I'm Peter."

Harry and Peter shook hands. "I'm Harry. It's nice to finally meet you. Diana's mentioned you quite a lot," Harry said, genuinely.