thief | peter kavinsky

one

"Okay, um, Josh Sanderson."

"Easy pass."

"No way!"

I nodded as I threw more popcorn into my mouth. Summer, one of my closest friends, shook her head in extreme disagreement.

She always had the biggest crush on Sanderson since the beginning of freshman year. Margot was the only thing in her way– but even now that she's gone, Summer has yet to make a single move.

"You're just head over heels for Cody Rodriguez."

Throwing popcorn at her face, she fell into a fit of giggles. She knew my weak spot and she never hesitated to poke at it. Cody Rodriguez. Beautiful, curly-haired Rodriguez. Speaking of crushes, I had the biggest one on Cody.

This crush wasn't like any other, though. I didn't know them, I didn't take the time to learn about them. But Cody had been one of my closest friend since eighth grade– I know, sometimes I don't even believe I've liked someone for that long.

I looked over to where he was sitting and sighed. I could listen to him laugh all day, it was like magic, pulling people into his very own trance. He sat next to Peter and Lara Jean, and my eyes rolled just looking at them.

They were all everyone talked about and it was beginning to annoy the fuck out of me. Not only would they shove their love in everyone's faces, but they barely talked to friends and ignored everyone around them. It was like they were the only two people on the planet– in my opinion, it was unhealthy. But I say less.

The bell for school had rung, causing Summer and I to stuff all the left over popcorn in our mouths and flee the cafeteria. We had Physical Education last but we always hung out in the cafeteria instead. All my teacher knew was that we had extreme migraines that couldn't be cured. So we sat at last-period lunch and drooled over Cody and Josh.

At the door, we said our goodbyes and walked away. She got into her truck while I hopped on top of my bike. It was kind of, no, very embarrassing to have to ride my bike to school everyday but I couldn't afford a car right now. Neither could my parents, and I didn't want to be that daughter so I didn't complain.

My family consisted of me, my mother, my step-father and my little sister. Alyssa was twelve, starting sixth grade and she already had five boyfriends. She told me she gets a new one every year. I, sadly, couldn't relate. We were definitely dysfunctional but I loved my family.

Speaking of my life, I just started my senior year. I wasn't going to college due to my determination on starting a music career. My first love was music– my second being Robert Downey Jr.

I could play the guitar, cello, piano and ukulele. It wasn't enough but people always wanted to hear me sing. They told me it was like hearing an angel sing. I was never confident in my voice but since I was planning on becoming famous, I needed to work on that.

"What the fu–"

I flew backwards on my bike and slid onto the ground. My knees began to burn and my hands stung, a loud whimper falling off my lips. I heard groans opposite from me and began to panic. Did I hit someone?

I quickly get up despite the scrapes on my body and crawl over to the person I hit. When I see their face my whole body begins to shut down. I pondered on whether I should deck it and just leave him alone.

"You hit me with your bike."

I rolled my eyes and stood up, holding my hand out for him to grab. He took it and slowly stood up, beginning to brush himself off. I noticed a large scab on his elbow and a bruise already forming on his arm.

"Yeah, no shit, Peter." I fumed.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa– you hit me." He acknowledged, furrowing his eyebrows.

Ah, Kavinsky. You can always count on him to be the densest person in the room.

"Oh is that what happened? I didn't realize it when I fell off my bike." I rolled my eyes at his foolery.

He scoffed at me and I could tell he was getting angry. I knew I was acting difficult. I was clearly in the wrong here, but I was too stubborn to acknowledge my mistakes.

"Well, are you going to do something about it?" Steam was coming out of his ears at this point and I had to hold in my laughter to avoid further argument.

"What do you want me to do? I scabbed you, do you want a bandaid?" I began to hop on my bike.

Looking back at the situation now, I should've never been so difficult. A normal person would freak out and cry over hitting someone with their fucking bike. But me? I didn't exactly care at the moment. I was too focused on how much I disliked him.

"Yes."

"What?"

"Yes, I would like a bandaid."