Peter does a full-body groan. “We hooked up that first weekend.” #51 | | |
“But . . . you guys were broken up already.” #52 | | |
“Yeah, well.” Peter shrugs. “Whatever. What’s done is done.” #53 | | |
Relieved, I click on my seat belt and kick my shoes off. “What were you two fighting about tonight, anyway?” #54 | | |
“Don’t worry about it. You did a good job, by the way. She’s so jealous it’s killing her.” #55 | | |
“Yay,” I say. Just as long as she doesn’t kill me. #56 | | |
We drive through the night in silence. Then I ask, “Peter . . . how did you know you loved Genevieve?” #57 | | |
“God, Lara Jean. Why do you have to ask those kind of questions?” #58 | | |
“Because I’m a naturally curious person.” I flip down his mirror and start braiding the top of my hair. “And maybe the question you should be asking yourself is, why are you so afraid to answer those kinds of questions?” #59 | | |
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“Then why won’t you answer the question?” #61 | | |
Peter goes silent, and I’m pretty sure he’s not going to answer, but then, after a long pause where my question just hangs in the air, he says, “I don’t know if I ever loved Genevieve. How would I even know what that felt like? I’m seventeen, for God’s sake.” #62 | | |
“Seventeen’s not so young. A hundred years ago people got married when they were practically our age.” #63 | | |
“Yeah, that was before electricity and the Internet. A hundred years ago eighteen-year-old guys were out there fighting wars with bayonets and holding a man’s life in their hands! They lived a lot of life by the time they were our age. What do kids our age know about love and life?” I’ve never heard him talk like this before—like he actually cares about something. I think he’s still all worked up from his fight with Genevieve. #64 | | |
I wind my hair into a honey bun and secure it with a ponytail holder. “You know who you sound like? You sound like my grandpa,” I say. “Also I think you’re stalling because you don’t want to answer the question.” #65 | | |
“I answered it, you just didn’t like my answer.” #66 | | |
We pull up in front of my house. Peter turns off the engine, which is what he does when he wants to talk a little while longer. So I don’t jump out right away, I put my bag in my lap and search for my keys even though the lights are on upstairs. Gosh. To be sitting in the passenger seat of Peter Kavinsky’s black Audi. Isn’t that what every girl has ever wanted, in the history of boys and girls? Not Peter Kavinsky specifically, or yes, maybe Peter Kavinsky specifically. #67 | | |
Peter leans his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes. #68 | | |
I say, “Did you know that when people fight with each other, that means they still really care about each other?” When Peter doesn’t answer, I say, “Genevieve must really have a hold on you.” #69 | | |
I expect him to deny it, but he doesn’t. Instead he says, “She does, but I wish she didn’t. I don’t want to be owned by anyone. Or belong to anyone.” #70 | | |
Margot would say she belongs to herself. Kitty would say she belongs to no one. And I guess I would say I belong to my sisters and my dad, but that won’t always be true. To belong to someone—I didn’t know it, but now that I think about, it seems like that’s all I’ve ever wanted. To really be somebody’s, and to have them be mine. #71 | | |
“So that’s why you’re doing this,” I tell him—I’m partly asking but I’m mostly telling. “To prove you don’t belong to her. Or with her.” I stop. “Do you think there’s a difference? Between belonging with and belonging to, I mean?” #72 | | |
“Sure. One implies choice; the other doesn’t.” #73 | | |
“You must really love her to go to all this trouble.” #74 | | |
Peter makes a dismissive sound. “You’re too dreamy-eyed.” #75 | | |
“Thank you,” I say, even though I know he doesn’t mean it as a compliment. I say it just to bug him. #76 | | |
I know I’ve succeeded when he says, his face sour, “What would you know about love, Lara Jean? You’ve never even had a boyfriend before.” #77 | | |
I’m tempted to make up someone, a boy from camp, from another town, from anywhere. His name is Clint is on the tip of my tongue. But it would be too humiliating, because he’d know I was lying; I already told him I never dated anybody before. And even if I hadn’t, it is far more pathetic to make up a boyfriend than to just admit the truth. “No, I’ve never had a boyfriend. But plenty of people I know have had boyfriends but they’ve never once been in love. I’ve been in love.” That’s why I’m doing this. #78 | | |
Peter snorts. “With who? Josh Sanderson? That tool?” #79 | | |
“He’s not a tool,” I say, frowning at him. “You don’t even know him to say that.” #80 | | |
“Anybody with one eye and half a brain could tell what a tool that guy is.” #81 | | |
“Are you saying my sister’s blind and brainless?” I demand. If he says one bad word about my sister, that’s it. This whole thing is off. I don’t need him that badly. #82 | | |
Peter laughs. “No. I’m saying you are!” #83 | | |
“You know what? I changed my mind. You’ve obviously never loved anyone but yourself.” I try to jerk the passenger door open, but it’s locked. #84 | | |
“Lara Jean, I was just kidding. Come on.” #85 | | |
| | |
“Wait, wait. First tell me something.” Peter leans back in his seat. “How come you never dated anybody?” #87 | | |
I shrug. “I don’t know . . . because nobody ever asked?” #88 | | |
“Bullshit. I know for a fact that Martinez asked you to homecoming and you said no.” #89 | | |
I’m surprised he knows about that. “What is it with you guys all calling each other by your last name?” I ask him. “It’s so—” I struggle to find the right word. “Effected? Affected?” #90 | | |
“Don’t change the subject.” #91 | | |
“I guess I said no because I was scared.” I stare out the window and run my finger along the glass, making an M for Martinez. #92 | | |
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“No. I like Tommy. It’s not that. It’s scary when it’s real. When it’s not just thinking about a person, but, like, having a real live person in front of you, with, like, expectations. And wants.” I finally look at Peter, and I’m surprised by how hard he’s paying attention; his eyes are intent and focused on me like he’s actually interested in what I’m saying. “Even when I liked a boy so much, loved him even, I would always rather be with my sisters, because that’s where I belong.” #94 | | |
“Wait. What about right now?” #95 | | |
“Right now? Well, I don’t like you that way so . . .” #96 | | |
“Good,” Peter says. “Don’t go falling for me again, okay? I can’t have any more girls in love with me. It’s exhausting.” #97 | | |
I laugh out loud. “You’re so full of yourself.” #98 | | |
“I’m kidding,” he protests, but he’s not. “What did you ever see in me anyway?” He grins at me then, cocky again and so sure of his charm. #99 | | |
“Honestly? I really couldn’t tell you.” #100 | | |
