Fat Girls Return

23. Forgive

~ A/N: Dedicated to georgeweasley24
Thanks for caring about my story. :) Your comments make me excited to write more, knowing there's someone looking forward to the next chapter. So, this one's for you. ♥️
——
Elle's P.O.V

Peter's waiting for me by his truck after school, looking unsure of himself as I approach. I smile softly at him, feeling bad about this morning.

"Hey," I stand on my tip toes to give Peter a quick kiss, earning a relieved grin from him. "I'm sorry about this morning," I sigh, looking at the ground. "I'm just not in a good mood today."

Peter smiles sympathetically, "I understand, Elle. I'm always here if you need to talk."

He starts to hug me but I push him away before he can touch my back, blushing. "Sorry."

Peter looks confused but hurries to reassure me with another sympathetic-but-clearly-concerned smile, "It's okay. You don't have to hug me."

He grins, trying to lighten the mood. "But you do have to kiss me."

I roll my eyes, letting a smile curl my lips upward, "I suppose." I point a finger at him, raising an eyebrow, "Just one though."

Peter sighs dramatically, "Fine."

I crane my neck to meet his lips, making this moment last a little longer than the first one. Just as I'm about to pull away, Peter cups the sides of my face with his hands gently, deepening the kiss. A chuckle rises in my throat as I let myself melt into him. When he finally decides to take a breath, I crook an eyebrow.

"What?" Peter grins cheekily. "It was still one kiss!" He shrugs, "I just made it longer."

I roll my eyes and laugh. "Okay then, I'll let it slide based on a technicality."

Peter pumps his fist and I shake my head, amused.

We climb in the truck and start the drive home. I stare out the window like I did this morning, getting lost in my thoughts. What seems like two seconds later, we're in my driveway. Peter says my name to get my attention, effectively jarring me out of my mind.

"What?" I say, turning to face him absentmindedly. I look around, blushing when I notice where we are. "Oh, sorry."

Peter chuckles as I slide out of the truck. I shut the door and carry my backpack in my hand - no way I'm letting that thing touch my shoulder right now - walking up to the front steps after I wave goodbye to Peter and watch him drive away.

My heart quickens automatically at the front door as I wonder if dad's awake or not. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly and take a deep breath before I turn the handle. The usual scent of stale beer stings my nostrils as I walk in, tiptoeing quietly past the living room. I notice dad's limp form splayed across the couch and sigh lightly, relieved.

Just as I reach the door to my bedroom, a loud snore sounds, making me jump as every muscle in my body tenses. I shake my head, willing my anxiety to go away as I try to calm my pulse back down to a normal rate. I hurry into my room, closing the door behind me as quietly as I can. I let out a breath, sinking to the floor when I notice my whole body is shaking.

My heart races for another hour as every little noise sets my brain on high alert. I try to focus on my homework but give up once my hands start to crumple the sides of the worksheet from gripping it so tightly. I go to my closet to retrieve a journal, remembering the comfort that writing always gives me. My hand touches the closet door before I remember there are no journals to write in. If I open this closet, the only thing I'll find is a mountain of paper scraps and broken belongings.