Low Tide Lovers (Peter x Reader)

𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧

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𝐈 stand by as Peter awkwardly attempts to dig with the oar. I dodge the sand being flung around, stepping from side to side. He takes a deep breath.

A few minutes pass, and I kneel down in the sand, scratching my knees. It didn't do much, but I cupped my hands and scooped sand out. The hole eventually started to get bigger. As I swiped the thin layer of sweat from my forehead, I noticed Alan walking towards us.

"You moved it," he called. Peter reached for my hands and pulled me up off the ground. I brushed the sand from my knees.

"You were gonna spend it all," Peter retorts. I laugh quietly to myself.

"I am my fathers son," Alan comments, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Me too," Peter says, but he was nothing like Alan. I looked over at Peter, and thought to myself how much he differed from his older brother. But only in the best ways possible.

"No, you're more like mom." Peter had told me a little bit about his mother. He sighs.

"Is dad back?" He asks. 

"No. The charges were dropped." Alan takes the oar from Peter and begins to dig on his own. Peter and I stand back, my hands on my hips. My shoes had begun to dry in the late afternoon sun and were feeling uncomfortable.

"How deep is it?" Alan asks. 

"I don't know. I thought I'd hit it by now, but it must've slipped deeper," Peter says. I look out at the bay.

"But we don't have much time until the tide comes back in," he informs. I nod; he was right. We better get this thing soon.

"Here, pull the chain," Alan says. Peter and I pick up our own segments of the chain and hold on tightly. Here goes nothing.

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I had no idea how long we'd been working on this. It seemed as if all the time in the world had gone by, but nothing had been done. My hands were beginning to sting. The cut that Red left on my hand started to bleed again. I hissed in pain.

We pull hard on the chain. It moves, ever so slightly. As I try to regain my footing to get ready to pull again, I slip. I let out a loud gasp as I fell into the water

Peter drops the chain to his feet. It leaves dark splash marks on his jeans. He turns around, holding out his hands.

"You okay?" He asks. I nod, grabbing ahold of the chain again. I brace myself.

"3...2...1!" Alan says. We pull the chain once more. The anchor budges a little more this time. I nearly fall again.

"3...2...1!" He yells again. We pull, a final time. The anchor is firmly yanked out of the water. Alan picks it up, letting the sand and water run out from inside. Tired and breathless, the three of us trudge through the water to the sand. We sit down.

"We should probably start walking before the sun goes down," Peter says, looking around. I agree. I'd hate to be stuck out here again.

"Why don't we just take the boat?" He asks.

"The boat?" Peter questions. I furrow my brows. What could he mean?

"You parked the boat around the bend." I shake my head. We had gotten a ride.

"We didn't take the boat," I tell him. He looks at me funny, opening his mouth to speak. But, I'm sure his question is answered when we turn around.

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