Low Tide Lovers (Peter x Reader)

𝐭𝐰𝐨

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𝐈 flipped the comforter away from my legs, lifting my arms in an intense stretch. I could hear dishes clinking downstairs. The clock read 9:14. The old mattress creaked as I stepped off, my feet coming into contact with my carpet.

Downstairs, Mom was scrubbing away at dirty dishes. Our dishwasher was broken and in need of service, but her pawn shop job didn't get her enough to pay for it.

"Really?" she said, her brows furrowed sarcastically, her lips pressed in a thin line as I grabbed a small frying pan from the cabinet. She was not only up incredibly early despite the manner she arrived home last night, but she was up far too early to be this annoyed.

"I'll wash it," I said, turning on the stove. It clicked on, fire flickering on under the pan. I grabbed the butter dish and a knife and plopped a square in. I popped a slice of bread into the toaster.

"I have to go to work in a few. My shift starts at ten," she told me. I opened the fridge and scanned the shelves for eggs. She continued rinsing the dishes. If it weren't for the running water, the atmosphere would be incredibly tense.

As I was frying my egg, she went upstairs to wash her hair and change. I shook salt and pepper into the pan, listening to her radio play loudly. I lightly jabbed my egg with the corner of the spatula; it was done. I slid the egg onto the plate along with the toast I had popped in.

Mom hurried down the stairs into the foyer. Her hair was still visibly damp, but she looked so awake. I took a bite of my breakfast as she tore a slip of paper from her notepad. The paper fluttered onto the table. A shopping list.

"I'll see you later," she said, digging in her purse. I swallowed. She slapped thirty bucks on top of the list and leaned down to kiss me on the top of the head. I didn't exactly know when later was. I often went to bed well before she got home. She slammed the door on her way out. I stood up, pushing my chair back, and watched her go from the window above the sink. The old car sputtered to life and she was off.

Milo meowed at his dish. I poured some food into the glass by the stove. He purred as he ate, little bits of food dropping from his mouth. I put my plate in the sink and turned to go back up to my room.

I pulled a pair of jeans and a grey T-shirt from my dresser and slipped off my pyjamas. As I folded them neatly to sit on the foot of my bed, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair was frizzy and unkempt. I could see split ends. I let out a long sigh, shrugging into my day clothes and stepping foot downstairs once again.

Milo meowed at the front door. Normally, he was an inside cat, but every time he'd gotten out before, he came back soon after. I wasn't worried. I opened the door a crack and he slipped through, casually trotting down the sidewalk. I'd be back soon enough to let him back in.

I walked over to the dining table and picked up the cash and list that Mom left for me. It was the days she asked me to go grocery shopping that I wished I hadn't been so irresponsible with my bike. It had a large carrying basket, and all the groceries would fit. I sighed, slipping on my tennis shoes and exiting the house. I decided, that before I went shopping, I'd stop by the pier. It wouldn't hurt, would it?

He was taking cash from the hand of a customer when I approached. It was a woman that I'd seen talking to my mom. She smiled at me; I'd been recognized. I smiled back. She turned and began to walk away.

"Hey," I said to Peter. He adjusted the sign on the little plastic box that the fish were in. His cheeks were red from standing in the sun all morning. I noticed his eyes squint as he peered in the direction of the sun.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing at the paper in my hand. I shrugged.

"Shopping list. Not a lot, but I have to walk all of it home," I said. The summer heat around here was terrible. Another customer came up. I stood by awkwardly, reviewing the list.

Butter
Bread
Ham
Cheese
Coffee
Milk

This was the normal list. We didn't eat much else. I notice a small note on the bottom.

You can pick some extra stuff out with the leftover money

I smiled to myself. She rarely did this. The customer left, and once again Peter and I were left alone.

"If you feel like waiting for about ten minutes, I can help," Peter suggested. I folded the paper and put it in my pocket with the cash. A cloud covered the sun, leaving us in the shade.

"Please," I replied. He nodded. This would be the second time he helped me with groceries. Last time he saw me walking down the street in the rain. He carried a few bags to help pick up the pace.

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"Okay, that will be $28.50," the cashier told me, pressing a button on the register. I handed him the cash, watching his fingers intensely as they flipped through each bill. He pulled out a dollar fifty in change and dropped it into my hand. Peter grabbed two bags and I took the remaining one. And now begins the long walk home.

"Thanks, Peter," I said, pushing open the front door. We started to unload the groceries, putting them in their respective places. I handed him the Milky Way I bought him, and he smiled.

"I should get going," he said, taking a step towards the door.

"Wait," I whispered. He stopped, swiveling back around to face me. We made an uneasy eye contact. A moment passed before I shook my head.

"Never mind," I said. He turned again and headed out the door.

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