JP {BoyxBoy}

Prince Charming

"You...but you're Peter Grayson..."

I stumble over my words and he rolls his eyes.

"Ah, yes indeed, your prince charming has arrived. Imagine the disappointment on every girls face when they find out he's into cute boys who run out on the first date," he says and I burst out laughing while rolling back under the hover car.

"I can't believe you came all this way because you like me. A Grayson in downtown Bridgeport and in love with a mechanic. That's a great headline for the cyber gossip feeds." I say as I take the damaged hover plate off the track.

Peter pulls me out from under the car using his foot.

"Who said I liked you?" He asks defensively and crosses his arms.

"Coming from the man who kissed me and seductively whispered in my ear 'I will find you', then actually found me." I say and sit up.

Wiping my hands against my pants while trying to relax. He was probably just like any other guy in town, I was dreaming when I thought he was special.

"Alright alright, I'll admit. I got a little crazy but it couldn't be helped. Here let me get that." He says and takes off his jacket. I look around to see everyone had left and it was just the two of us. I look back at Peter to see he was magically changed to a tank top and blue jeans.

"Were those...under your suit pants?"

I ask, questioning how he changed so fast but was taken aback by the amount of muscle he had. With the suit on he looked scrawny but with just a white ribbed tank top, every muscle was clearly defined. I instantly felt self-conscience because due to the intense chemo I can't retain muscle.

"They're reversible."

Is all he says as he grabs a new hover plate and socket wrench off the bench next to me. He grabs the hoverboard from me and crawls under.

"Aren't you worried about staining your clothes?" I ask while bending onto my knees and trying to see what he was doing and if he was doing it correctly.

"Eh, I can always buy new ones princess." He says and I lean back. Sitting on the ground and hugging my knees. "Who said you can call me princess?" I take a look at my fresh burn on my arm.

"Why are you asking so many stupid questions?" He says while struggling to wrench something in place.

"Because questions lead to answers which help me, I dunno...get to know this strange man who just walked into my shop," I say quietly and he tilts his head until his eyes meet mine.

"You think I'm strange?"

He asks and I can see a little spark of hurt in his eyes. Why were they so readable?

"No, not exactly. Maybe mysterious is a better word for it." I answer and he seems content as he goes back to work. I pull a water bottle from the micro-fridge and moments later he zooms out from under the car and snatches the water bottle from me.

Proceeding to drink the entire bottle he turns to me and there are black oil marks on his face and shirt.

I take off my shirt and try to wipe it off but it only smudged and I sigh.

"A little oil never killed anyone, Joseph."

He says my name with such authority it was scary. I was beginning to like princess better.

"No, but a perfect face like yours should never be stained,"

I answer and he reaches up, grabbing my arm and holding it. I can feel the chill go through me again but refuse to look him in the eye.

He takes the shirt from me and begins dabbing away at my face too.

"You're right."

He says and as I realize he reversed my comment my heart starts to pound again. He stops and puts my shirt down. We make eye contact.

"You're so much prettier than I thought you would be. Without the mask, it's like I'm looking at a different person."

He says and I look down embarrassed and probably blushing.

"You're telling me, I thought you were a nobody from lower Bridgeport until I heard your accent," I say and rub my hands together, bunching them up in the shirt.

He reaches over and clasps his hands perfectly over mine. I continue to look down but he takes one hand and tilts my chin up.

"Hmm not everyone is exactly what they appear to be. I have my own faults too but they seem to be strangely forgotten when I'm talking to you." He says and his thumb glides over my cheek to wipe another oil smudge.

Suddenly there is a staticky noise and his face gets serious.

"I have to go. But tomorrow I will be back to pick you up." Is all he says as he rushes out of the shop leaving his crisp white shirt and black leather jacket behind.

I go over and pick up the jacket, the smell of Peter Grayson lingered and I folded it up.

Placing it in my backpack so I could return it to him tomorrow.