Peterick//More Than You Bargained For

seven: blushing pilgrims

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry Peter!" My mom exclaims while attempting to sit up. "I-I didn't even see you, I swear!"

Pete's mouth is agape; he's now covered in a fairly good amount of my mom's puke. I tell my mom to lay back down, and she complies with an worried look on her face.

"Pete, come with me."

Pete stands up, some of the liquid oozing to the ground. I suppress the urge to gag.

I lead him to the bathroom and immediately turn on the shower.

"Rinse your clothes off, I'll bring some of my clothes for you when I come back." Pete nods and mumbles a "thank you" before I leave, shutting the door behind me.

I pace to the kitchen and get some rags and a glass of water.

"Hey, how are you?" I ask my mom softly as I slide the glass of water into her open hand.

"A little hung over," she says with a weak smile, "Sorry for puking on your friend."

"I'm just glad you're okay." I tell her, "You really worried me. You can't be drinking like this, mom."

By now I'm cleaning up the vomit on the ground. She protests, but I just tell her that we can talk about it later.

Next I go to my room to find clothes for Pete. What would fit him? He's substantially thinner than me, although this shoulders are quite broad...

I pick out a plain black t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants and hope to God that they fit him.

When I swing open the door, Pete is standing in his boxers and facing away from me while rinsing off his clothes. My heart skips a beat. I feel like I'm intruding, however me and Pete used to change in front of each other all the time... there's no difference...

I study his back. It appears as if he's gotten more in shape since freshman year; his back muscles protrude and flex as he wrings out his clothing.

I clear my throat to get his attention. He turns to face me. "Hey, here's some clothes." I say, turning them over to his hands.

He smiles. "Thanks."

I smile back.

Don't look down. Don't look down at his stomach. He'll be able to see your eyes gazing at his probably flat chest. He'll get creeped out. Don't do it.

I look down at his chest.

It's smooth, pale, and muscular. It looks nice. He's definitely got a beach body, unlike me with my chubby stomach and short torso.

I quickly realize what I've done and meet his eyes. He's looking at me with eyebrows raised.

I blush and take the wet clothes from his hands. "I'll toss these in the washer," I state and leave the bathroom.

I shake my head while putting the clothes into the dryer. That can't happen again, I think to myself.

"Patrick?" I hear Pete shout from the other room."

"Yeah?"

"I'll be in your room," he yells.

"Okay."

I go into the living room and grab my backpack. Before retreating to my domain I kiss my mother on the head.

When I enter my room, Pete is sitting on the edge of the bed awkwardly. I see that the clothes I gave him fit nicely.