Daydreamer.

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The first thing I do in the morning is text Peter.

I don't really know why I do it, it's as if my body has a mind of it's own.

Me: Hey

Me: I was hoping to talk to you today

Me: It's nothing important really though

I wait impatiently, looking at my phone every three seconds.

Jeez, that's not needy at all...(Sarcastically)

Me: Sorry if I'm being clingy

Me: I don't mean to bother you

Me: I'm just kinda bored

Oh, yes (Y/n), the perfect way to try not to bother him is to bother him with more text messages (also sarcastically)

I leave my phone on my dresser, and walk into my closet to get dressed. I pull on a plain white tee with a v neck, and a black leather jacket. Then, I throw on some ripped faded blue jeans. I pull on my usual white converse, and after brushing my hair and teeth, I place the orange lensed sunglasses on my head. I decide to leave my hair down today.

I go to walk down to the kitchen for breakfast, grabbing my phone on the way. I see that I have three new messages.

Peter ;-P: Hey

Peter ;-P:  Don't worry. Not clingy at all

Peter ;-P: I was just sleeping, lol

I smile and text while I walk.

Me: lol

Me: So what were you so busy with last night?

Peter ;-P: Well I was texting you

I smile and roll my eyes.

Me: I meant before that you dork

I smile brightly as I continue to text while walking, until my head slams into something.

Or someone.

"Hey, watch where you're going." I look up to see Steve in front of me.

I  give a goofy smile, "sorry."

He smiles, but looks curious, "what's with that face?"

I smile wider, "no one."

"No one?"

My eyes widen, but I laugh it off, "I mean nothing." I laugh again.

Oh my, what is wrong with me?

Parker, what have you done to me?

I continue walking to the kitchen.

"So, what's for breakfast?" My dad asks when I walk in, "you have to cook for us, remember?"

I giggle, "yeah, yeah." I pull out pancake mix from the cupboard.

"Was that a giggle?" My dad asks, looking up at me, "What's got you in such a good mood today?"

I sigh happily, "I don't know."

My dad's teasing expression slightly fades, "is this a boy?"

"What do you mean?" I ask innocently.

"Oh god, it is, isn't it."

"Don't be ridiculous." I say while mixing the pancake mix in a bowl, "I am a Stark. Boys don't have an affect on me."

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