PETER KAVINSKY one shots + imagines

Lacrosse

Y/N = your name 

Warnings: fluffffff

Word count: 1,594 

You had never been to a lacrosse game before. You weren't even sure you knew how to spell lacrosse. Your knowledge of the sport was limited to what you had seen on tv, or in short glimpses through school windows while the team practiced outside. 

So when Peter asked you to come to his game, your immediate answer was no. Of course it was, given that you knew nothing about it, and had no reason to go to a game you didn't care about. 

(Well... except for the fact that your fake-boyfriend was a star on the team, and attending games was in the contract that both of you had signed.)

Plus, he had frowned and done that eyebrow-beg thing. 

So you had no choice. 

"You're going where?" your little sister called to you as you walked to the door. 

"To a lacrosse game!" you shouted back, shoving on your worn-out shoes. You glanced down at what you were wearing. (What did people wear to lacrosse games? You didn't know. Who did?) So you had thrown on jeans and an old t-shirt. 

Your little sister popped out from the next room, blocking you from going out the front door. 

"Since when do you go to lacrosse games?" she asked, hands on her hips.

You debated for a moment before decided on the truth. "Since my... boyfriend is on the team." You stuttered over the word boyfriend, and tried to ignore how strange it felt in your mouth. "Now move." 

~~~

You didn't realize just how many people went to lacrosse games. Were you missing out on a major part of highschool? It was junior year and this was your first time walking up to the stands.

Glancing around you, you realized how under-prepared you were. Everyone had sweatshirts, hats, banners, and even socks with the team's name on them, and you suddenly felt naked in your plain clothes. 

Apparently it was also a thing to bring large blankets to lay out on the bleachers, as well as sit with tons of friends. And you were alone. 

You froze, wondering whether it was too late to run back to the parking lot. 

"Hey!" A voice called from behind you. "Y/N!" 

You spun, and there he was.

"Peter." You glanced around, feeling as if people were watching, even though probably nobody was. But this was your life now, right? To put on a show? 

And then you saw someone was watching. Peter's ex, just over his shoulder. Giving you that look. 

So you did the only perfectly reasonable thing. 

As Peter smiled wider, stepping closer to talk to you, you ran up faster and pulled him into a hug.

He didn't even miss a beat, wrapping you in his warm arms. You even lifted off the ground a little, and a small laugh escaped your throat. He smelled like clean clothes and maybe a hint of cinnamon. 

He laughed, too, and put you down. He didn't ask what the hug was for. Maybe he knew? Maybe he didn't care? 

"You came." He nudged your shoulder.

"I wouldn't miss it," you half-lied, smiling tight. 

This made him laugh harder. "Yeah, u-huh. Sure, Y/N."