Chapter 4

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Flashback ~ 1 Year Ago

Peter POV

My flight had landed last night and I'd slept for twelve hours straight. College could be tiring, especially in your second year. Harvard was not heaven. The moment I woke up I knew work had already begun. We were in the middle of the election cycle, and my dad happened to be a congressman diving head first into campaigning. 

I knew I wasn't going to get a break, and to be honest I didn't mind. I liked campaigning because it had a tangible goal and purpose, like a game. Crushing opponents was fun too. While I was getting ready downstairs and adjusting my tie to head over to the office where my dad would be, my mom appeared in her unmistakable pearls and favorite burgundy dress. 

"Mom, I'm heading over, I'll be back with dad," I said absentmindedly, not looking at her.

"Actually, Peter we're going to need you to pick up a guest from the airport." She said, her voice stern, knowing I wouldn't cooperate.

"Just send the driver, like you always do." I said annoyed. I didn't have time to be a chauffeur. 

"The Stensons are our friends and have been for a long time, I don't want Beatrice to feel like we don't care" she replied.

"What?" I said raising my eyebrows, clearly confused.

"Beatrice? The Stensons' daughter?" she urged.

"Doesn't ring a bell." I said, stuffing toast in my mouth. 

"Well, she'll be interning for your father this summer and she's staying with us. Pick her up from the airport and she can get settled in the guest bedroom before you both head over to your dad's office." she said, her voice full of authority. Clearly, I didn't have a choice.

"Can't Austin do it?" I said my voice on the verge of sounding whiny.

"Your brother is busy with Ashley, they're engaged and your father needed-"

"Alright, alright," I said, interrupting her. I knew what she meant. My perfect older brother was engaged to an equally perfect girl and my dad needed them around for the whole 'family values' thing. They sold the picture. Got it. 

"I'll go" I said grudgingly. Even though the last thing I wanted was to pick up a whiny high school girl and babysit her all summer. I decided I would keep minimum contact and all our conversations monosyllabic. 

The last time I saw Beatrice she was six and I was nine. She had no front teeth, strong opinions, and an arrogant attitude when she tried to tell me how she already knew what 12 times 12 was and I didn't.

Math is hard, okay.

I solemnly got into my car and drove to the airport. 

'Keep your distance and she'll get bored and keep hers' I told myself.

I had no idea just how awfully I was going to fail at that. 

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I stood outside gate number 11, where mom told me she would come through. Bored, tired, and fairly agitated I looked around distracted, watching families and friends reunite in the summer heat. I could almost play the whole thing out in my head, she would say 'hi' before proceeding to drool over me, I would politely take her bags and put them in the car, ask her about school, the internship and then zone out as she continued droning on about a guy in class who asked her for a pencil and now they're getting married. 

Kill me already.

I was so busy imagining it, I didn't hear her voice.

"Peter?" a melodious voice spoke.

I turned around to face the single most gorgeous girl I had ever seen. Her beautiful brown tresses framed her face perfectly, her chocolate eyes in a quizzical expression as she tucked her hair behind her ears. Her flawless tan on display in a sleeveless top and jean shorts. 

As soon as I realized I was shamelessly checking her out, I coughed.

"Uh...Beatrice, right..where's your stuff?" I asked, grateful my eyes were masked by sunglasses.

"I can take care of it myself" she smiled a magnificent yet impersonal smile. I guess I didn't have an effect on her.

"That's okay." I swiftly replied before we both reached down to grab her bags and our hands touched as she pulled away flinching at the contact. All I wanted was to feel that tingling sensation all over again. 

What the hell is wrong with me? 

Her bags were in the car and I was about to open the door for her, but she placed her arms over the side of the convertible, gracefully lifting and placing herself in the driver's seat. 

Hot.

"Can I drive?" she demanded, her eyes challenging me to say no to her.

"Sure" the word flew out of my mouth before I had a chance to mentally slap myself.

"Great" she grinned. 

This was going to be a long summer. 





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