Was it, perhaps, a little naive and idealistic of Cat to think she’d only be sitting on Peter’s dorm room floor for about an hour? Perhaps.

Did she have a right to be annoyed when the second hour of him using her phone to talk to his brother came and went? Maybe.

Cat leaned against the dresser that served as end tables between the beds, letting one of the knobs dig right next to her spine where a muscle knot bothered her. Cameron had finished writing whatever essay he needed to write and moved to get into his bed. She could feel his stares when he hesitated, and she opened her eyes to look at him.

“Did you fall asleep?” he whispered to her under the excited chatter of his roommate.

“No,” Cat sighed. “I was memorizing.” She wasn’t, though. She was resting her eyes, just a little. Staring at her own handwriting and the tiny text of the book in front of her was making her head hurt. “What time is it?”

“Eleven thirty,” Cam muttered. “I can say something….” He gestured to Peter, who sat in his chair and nodded vigorously to whatever his brother said on the other side of the phone.

“No, go to sleep. I’m still studying,” she lied. She gave him a small smile, and he only shrugged. In the shameless Cam fashion, he stripped down to his boxers right in front of her, and crawled under the covers. He must have found it easy to drown out Peter’s conversation. For the last hour or so, Peter and Oscar had switched to speaking in Spanish; though, from what Cat could tell, it wasn’t because they spoke about anything intimate or secretive. It was a natural switch for them. And Peter was well aware that if he wanted any secrecy with his brother, he sat in front of the wrong audience. Though he kept typing into his phone at the same time as he spoke to Oscar, saying things like, “I sent you a picture on Facebook. Did you get it?” Watching Peter type on his phone just made her want to use hers that much more. Maybe Pumpkin had sent her something while Peter hogged all her data.

Cat did a pretty good job at not eavesdropping. It wasn’t until she rewrote her cheat sheet for the third time that she could catch herself drifting from concentration. But even then, the boys spoke about memories, about Oscar’s plans for college. Peter gave some solid advice, instructing his brother to sign up for mostly general classes and one major class for his first freshman semester. From the other bits she’d accidentally listened to, she gathered that Peter had lived at home with them, attending community college, until he transferred here, primarily as a way to have a place to live.

And she could piece together a few details that, despite the edge of guilt, made her feel quite vindicated. Between forcing herself to focus on these stupid theories in her lap to drown out Peter’s voice and his gentle tones seeping into her brain anyway, she confirmed that Peter’s first job was repairing cell phones, something he picked up in August to pay for textbooks and food while he lived on his scholarship at BAU. Her assumptions about him at the beginning weren’t all completely baseless, just maybe a bit too exaggerated. Or perhaps she just didn’t have the full story.

He still was everything he was in September: snobby, privileged, holier-than-thou, argumentative, petty, stuck-up. But existing at the same time was a tender side he liked to keep locked away behind his sarcasm, a sweetness behind his prickish attitude. And all the pride she poked at, no matter how harsh, he kept up and jabbed right back, challenging the way she saw herself just as much.

Perhaps a lesson learned from her whole experience with Peter was the simple realization that people could be more than one thing at once. He could drive her up the wall with just a single look, or disable her strongest defenses just by saying her name.

“Cat….” Like that, with that exact tone. Like he had something important to tell her, but soft as if it was a secret. “Cat.”

“I heard you the first time,” she muttered to herself. Did her brain think she needed a reminder?

“Well, you didn’t answer.” Or, wait. Maybe that wasn’t her brain. Was she dreaming?

Her eyelids must have been ten pounds, they took so long to open. She breathed in the muffled mix of chlorine and detergent, and fought the urge to lean into the waves of relaxation and comfort that crashed over her.

“Five minutes.” Peter’s laughter forced her to open her eyes. “Oh, this is real?” It took a few blinks, but eventually the light from the ceiling lamp sharpened the edges around Peter’s giant head right in front of her face.

“You fell asleep against my bed. Not even on it," he whispered with a dimpled smile. Her body took forever to get the memo. Partially propped up by the dresser, her head resting on his mattress with her arm added for support. In her other hand was her fifth copy of her cheat sheet, perfectly outlined and colorcoded, with added text stylization for different sections made strictly out of boredom. When she sat up and stretched her back out, it seemed like the knob of the dresser had successfully worked out the knot in her back--or, rather, moved it, because now it appeared on the other side of her spine.

“I was...memorizing.” Cat hid a yawn with the back of her hand, and slowly took inventory of the room. Cam fell asleep sprawled out like a starfish on his back, pillow over his head and one of his arms hanging out to the middle of the room. In her lap was only her cheat sheet; her notebook slipped off of her legs and splayed out beside her book, and her colored pens rolled around the room in a similarly messy way.

“Take your time,” Peter teased while she slowly reached for her belongings. He crouched in front of her, and scooted a few of her pens to her open hand.

“What time is it?” As she shoved her stuff into her bag, Peter handed her her phone. One in the morning? “What the hell?” Five percent battery left, too?

“Shh.” Peter jabbed his thumb to Cam, but the guy didn’t look distrubed at all. She shook her head.

“I don’t see how he could sleep like that,” she whispered as she rose from the floor. Peter gave her a quizzical look. “With his arm out like that. When I was a kid, I always thought about monsters.” She hesitated, then cracked a smile. “And then when my brother was a kid, I’d pull whatever limb he had hanging out so he was afraid of monsters.” Peter covered his mouth with his hand to stifle his laugh.

“My older brother used to do that to me, too.” Cat giggled as she bent down for her bag, and swung it with an “oof” over her shoulder.

“And your little brother? How’d that go?” Watching his eyes light up let her relive the moment he first heard Oscar’s voice. Like his whole world just lit up, and God, Himself, descended from the sky to tell him everything was going to be alright.

“I’m sure you could tell it was….” Peter seemed only satisfied to answer with a smile.

“I wasn’t listening, actually. I was studying.” But it was really late, now. A lot later than she planned her bed time to be when she had to work right before her midterm. She wanted to do another quick review before work, but now...she probably wouldn’t be able to get out of bed as early as she wanted.

“I saw you re-did your cheat sheet, like, fifty times.” She awarded him a quick laugh as she made her way to his door.

“I wanted it to be neater.” She knew the trick was to study whatever she didn’t put on the cheat sheet, to be the most efficient with her time. But after the third hour straight of studying, things got very boring.

Cat reached for the door knob, but something in her hesitated. It was as if Peter said her name, but she knew he was silent. Something about the way he froze a little, the way he paused, made her turn to look at him. His smile was gone, his eyes a hundred years away.

“What?” she whispered. Upon biting his lip, only one of his dimples showed. He looked like he was going to say something, but gave a quick glance back to Cameron. His arm wasn’t out in the open for monsters to grab anymore. Maybe Peter took that as a sign that Cam was awake, now, because he suddenly switched to Spanish when he looked back to Cat.

"Discúlpame.” Forgive me. The gasp escaped her lips before she could even register his words. ”Por favor. Lo que dije el domingo…." Cat shook her head, searching for his eyes. But he stared at the floor.

"What you said on Sunday…," she repeated in kind. He wouldn’t look at her. How could he grab her heart like that with just his voice? How did he do it every time? ”I told you it’s fine."

"It wasn’t."

“Peter.” For a brief moment, she wondered if she somehow borrowed his superpower, the one that constantly commanded her attention, because even though he looked like he’d rather fall through the floor than be in front of her at that moment, she finally caught his gaze, soft. Pained.

And before she could say anything more, he continued, ”I saw that what I said...hurt you. But I doubled down. I took it too far." Cat sighed.

"I know that what you said came from….” There weren’t words for it. Not ones she knew in either of the languages she could speak. Or, rather, not words she was willing to say. ”I know what you were trying to say." She added, ”and anyway, it’s not like I haven’t said something twice as bad to you a hundred times over."

"No,” he corrected firmly, nearly forgetting to whisper. ”You’ve made me angry. But you’ve never hurt me." Now she was the one to shrink in on herself, to drop her gaze. This was too much--this was too private to be displayed in front of Cam, even if he was actually asleep, even if he couldn’t speak Spanish. Now, she couldn’t help but hear Hannah echo in the back of her mind, You guys act all different when no one else is around. Fine. Maybe they did. Maybe it was because whenever someone else was around, it felt like they were just tainting the tight bubble that Peter had a way of wrapping around them with just his words.

Cat swallowed thickly, then glanced up at him, just a little. ”And I know you regret it, and that you...don’t want to…." Her throat ran dry, and he wasn’t so focused on keeping eye contact anymore, exploring her face, finally resting on her lips. But this couldn’t happen. Not a repeat of that tutoring session, with so many fewer barriers, with no phone alarm to interrupt them, no crowds of people to keep her rooted to where they were. It couldn’t happen. Not now, not with Cam right over there--not with her date with Pumpkin coming up. Why was that so hard to remember all of a sudden?

From the very depths of her gut, she was able to summon the strength to look away from him, to reach behind herself with a shaky hand for the door knob.

"Anyway, I know you were--saying it as a friend, so…." Peter let out a single, quiet laugh.

"If that’s what it takes for you to admit we’re friends, then I’d hate to see what it would take to…." He trailed off, and shook his head when she gestured for him to keep going. His words didn’t sound honest. ”I was trying to come up with something funny and I couldn’t.”

She chuckled anyway. ”That’s because you’re not funny."

With another laugh, more bubbly this time, he said, ”Funnier than you." She wanted to say something back, but she just giggled, instead. “Good luck on your midterm, Cat. You’ll do great.” Back to English this time. She sobered, then pulled the door open to leave.

“Th-thanks. G’night.”