Devil in the Details

EIGHT: Crush - Pt. 2

I found Peter sitting on the curb in front of the house, taking deep breaths of the cool autumn air. His arms were wrapped around himself, but I couldn't tell if it was because of the cold or as a means of comfort.

"Peter?" I asked, and he wheeled around immediately, looking distraught.

"I'm sorry, Jessa," he rambled. "But I can't go back in there." His fingers twitched nervously. "I should have just stayed home."

"No!" I said, sitting down next to him. "It was good you came. Now that we have all the parts hashed out, you can do the rest from home."

My stomach churned with guilt as Peter breathed rapidly. In any other circumstance, I wouldn't have insisted he come. The only reason he was here was because I hadn't wanted to be a third wheel—and because once Lana evaporated back into the Underworld, I knew he would be a good partner to have on this project. I was using him, and now he was having a full-blown panic attack.

I sat there with him in silence, waiting until his breaths were no longer jagged.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled under his breath, his eyes locked on the gravel.

"Don't be sorry. I'm sorry for asking you to come," I said, rubbing my hand on my thigh and looking back at the house. "Does... does this all have something to do with Sam?"

Immediately I regretted asking the question. Peter's face blanched and he shook his head frantically, as if trying to launch his skull into the street. "No," he said quickly. "Wh-why do you think that?"

"Because every time she's around, it looks like you want to jump out of your skin."

He shook his head, refusing to say anything for a full minute. But finally, after wringing his hands like a towel, he whispered, "I have a crush on her, okay? And I just... can't be around her. It makes me too anxious." He rubbed his elbows. "That's why I can't be here. Because she's here."

I blinked; I had not expected that answer. Sam was just so... Sam. It was hard to imagine anyone liking her.

And, for some reason, I had overlooked the fact that Peter could fall in love. He wasn't just a nerd with a fear of leaving the house. He had wants, needs, and desires like the rest of us.

"Are you going to ask her to the dance next week?"

Peter looked absolutely horrified. "No way! I'm not going to that. I would die."

I had to agree with him; I think the act would literally tilt him into cardiac arrest.

"Forget I said anything, please Jessa?" he pleaded. "I'll be fine. I just need to make it a few more months without fainting around her, and then she'll be far away at Yale or Stanford or wherever she gets in."

"I won't say anything," I promised. "That said... we're here for another seven months. So, you know, there's still plenty of time for you to ask her out on a date some day."

He laughed, something short and dry that sounded more like a cough. "I doubt it," he said. "Not anytime soon."

"Fair," I said, wondering how, yet again, I—a girl whose only kiss had been during a game of spin the bottle—had found myself playing matchmaker.

Peter interrupted my thoughts with an exhale. "Do you think they'll mind if I just... go home? I already know what part of the paper I have to work on. I just don't think I can go back in there." His eyes were pleading.

I nodded. "I'm sure that's fine. Do you need a ride home? I could borrow the keys from Billy..."

He cut me off with a gesture. "I live four houses down. A blessing and a curse." He laughed darkly and stood up. "Thanks Jessa. I really appreciate that you came out here to see that I was okay."