Peter’s hands were gentle at first, just brushing her jawline, caressing her skin so softly. But as she leaned further into their kiss, his fingertips crept to her neck, to her hair, tangling in her tresses. His lips crashed against hers with a hunger she empathized with completely. His touch was an addicting flame that couldn’t consume her fast enough. The simultaneous satisfaction of finally feeling him and the insatiable impatience of being unable to eliminate the barriers that kept her from touching the rest of his skin battled in her chest, only somewhat fulfilling.

Cat slid off the cushion of her chair, fully intending to join him on his, but a cold breeze and a foreign laugh tore the two apart with confusion.

“Get a room, ya sluts!” called the stranger. A couple of guys in stained gym sweats bounced in through the doors, hooting and calling at them like some sort of guests at a zoo. They left as quickly as they entered, going about their business on the other side of the hallway.

Cat blinked, breathless, and reluctantly followed Peter’s lead. She fell back into her chair just as slowly as his hands lowered from her face, but she stared at the floor with a heavy flush rising to her cheeks.

“Friends of yours?” she asked, looking up at him through her lashes. Peter let out a nervous laugh and shook his head.

“I have no idea who that is,” he said. A timid giggle bubbled at her throat, but she managed to bite it back. Peter was completely unarmed, his eyes bright but the longer they stared at one another, reveling in a brief moment of bliss, the more he seemed to retreat into nerves. For whatever reason, the anxiety that plagued her up until now was nowhere to be found.

“Um,” Cat started, her fingers brushing over her lips to relive the recent memory of his.

“M-maybe we can meet later,” said Peter sheepishly. She nodded just the tiniest bit. “Couple hours?”

“I have work, but I’m off at eleven-thirty.” It was a relief that he seemed to be a little wobbly when he stood, too; he grabbed each of their bags in one motion.

“Okay, I can…. I can meet you there, if you want...walk you back...here.” She nodded again and accepted her bag from him. She couldn’t help but look at his lips again; one of her hands had a mind of its own, reaching toward the collar of his shirt.

“Yeah,” Cat murmured, pulling gently at the fabric. He obeyed without much instruction and bent his head for her, allowing her access to his lips just by standing on her tippy toes. She tried to keep it quick, but savored the sweet moment, the certainty that he gave her by leaning in and kissing her back. Pulling away would have been so much harder if it wasn’t a strain to stand that tall for any length of time. She sighed and released him. “See you then.”

Why she bothered going to the ceramics studio was beyond her. Cat wasn’t normally stupid. But this was just a stupid move. What made her think she could do anything other than sit on a stool and giggle to herself until she had to go to work? Her hands never even touched clay; her tools remained in her cubby, and all she did was relive the moment in the lobby over and over again in her mind until her phone screamed at her to run to Jittery Joe’s. She’d have to make up for that later.

But maybe she deserved a small break, she thought to herself as she went on her way to work. Cat had a habit of making things complicated for herself. And now, now that such a massive worry simplified in one of the weirdest ways, it wouldn’t be a bad thing to enjoy it.

Her coworker, Jeffrey, disagreed. She didn’t say anything to him, but he repeatedly snapped her out of her head, asked her to focus on finishing a drink she made, or to get her to return to the register to do her job. She kept pulling out her phone and looking at her past conversations with Peter on Talkative, despite Jeffrey shouting at her to “actually do her job.” Everything meant so much more, now. Some of the things “Pumpkin” said, the way he was so understanding when she pushed him away. Some of his jokes, too. Days when she wasn’t herself and he sent her funny Internet memes and videos just to make her smile.

Peter was so much better than her at compartmentalizing, she realized the more she read their threads. He tried to be private online; when she knew he was upset in real life, he was more guarded. For him, real life was where she so often found the vulnerable places of his walls…. Whereas for her, Talkative was the place she was able to feel most like herself. She never shared details about whatever upset her at any given time on it, but it never mattered. He just wanted to help. It was a little weird to realize that when she complained about an annoying friend that she was complaining about Peter to Peter. How many times when he was textually giving shade about specific types of people, was he complaining about her? Maybe it should have been irritating, but the only thing that made work go by any faster was rereading his complaints and trying to see if she matched the description, like a game. It was weirdly...fun.

It finally came time to hang up her apron and clock out.

“You seem like you can’t get out of here fast enough,” Jeffrey grumbled. She was probably more than a little frustrating to work with tonight, with how far her head stayed in the clouds.

“Sorry, it’s been...an eventful couple of days.” As she swung her bag onto her shoulder, she gave him a small smile; her bearded coworker sighed.

“Better than mine, I hope.” Considering some of the stuff he let slip when grumpily scolding her for being a bad barista, she had no doubt. Cat opted not to answer, and instead walked beside him all the way out of the store, and left him to set the alarm.

Peter stood under one of the street lamps, looking a lot more prepared for the cold fog that rolled in from the sea than she did. He had a jacket. She forgot hers, and now stood, shivering with her arms crossed over her chest, though still smiling at him. The cold walks back from work didn’t bother her that much to begin with, otherwise she’d probably stop wearing dresses all the time; she’d grown used to it. Though the rush of heat that ran through her when she saw him certainly helped fight off the bite of the breeze. That damn peacoat. Why did men look so good in peacoats? Why did he look so good right now? It was late, her hair was flat and her makeup nearly completely gone, but in full Peter Fashion, he looked immaculate. Asshole.

“Hey,” Peter called, offering a wave to Jeffrey. Jeffrey gave a tired salute in response. “How’s it going? Long time no see.”

Jeffrey let out a long sigh. “Discovering that love and hate are more similar than they are different, my friend.” And just like that, while Cat and Peter stood and watched him in surprise, Jeffrey pulled his keys out of his pocket and started his way down the street toward the parking lot.

“What?” Peter asked when he was out of ear-shot.

“His girlfriend turned out to be married or something,” Cat recalled in passing. “That was last week, though. I’m sure it’s more of that.” The lady was forty-five. The odds of a forty-five year old lady being married were a bit higher than if Jeffrey just dated in his age range. But Cat was certainly in no position to tell Jeffrey who to fall for. It wasn’t like she was very good at telling herself what to do.

“Ouch,” Peter sounded. He gestured to his coat. “Cold?”

“Yes--but I like it right now,” she said before he could take it off. “It’s nice.” Instead, she stepped up beside him and watched, as if asking for his next move. She expected at least a peck of some sort, but instead he led the way to the dorms with a wave of his hand, and walked beside her. She tried not to look disappointed, tried not to let any irrational panic set in.

“I got to video chat with Oscar on Facebook while you were at work,” he said with an edge of excitement to his voice. Well, if he was thinking of his brother, he could be forgiven for not immediately going in for a kiss. He still stood a little straighter than necessary, walked as if he rehearsed it before coming to Jittery’s.

“How’d that go? How’s Oscar holding up without you?” she asked, taking note of his steps. Peter was still nervous to be around her. No one made sure that each and every step taken was the exact same as the one before; or, at least, he did it more than he normally did. He always moved around in public like he was performing for a play; just right now, he was a terrible actor.

The chirping crickets chorused around Peter’s animated retelling of Oscar’s latest adventures. How he had a fight with his dad, how their mom was being really weird, how school was going. The more Cat warmed up from walking, the less Peter seemed to pay attention to his own movements, as if warming up to her. As they stepped off the grass and onto the pavement in front of Casa del Sol, Peter’s updates started to dwindle.

“He wanted me to ask--though I already told him what your answer would be...,” he said through a sigh as he unlocked the door and held it open for her. The warm rush of the heater was almost too much, but she was just about to start to be cold enough to take Peter up on his jacket offer, so she instead hesitated as the doors shut behind them and let the heat wrap around her limbs like a blanket.

“My answer?” Cat echoed, raising a brow.

Peter let out a laugh. “Oscar thinks you should pose as his girlfriend so that he can talk to me without hiding as often. He wants you to video call him during dinner, and call him ‘babe’ or ‘sweetie’ or something.” Cat actually snorted. A couple girls Cat recognized as neighbors were already waiting for the elevator, but she only gave them nods of acknowledgement. She wasn’t interested in small talk with them right now, and they seemed to take the hint and began whispering among themselves.

“If you said anything along the lines of ‘hell no,’ then you were right,” Cat said with a laugh. Peter nodded, pleased with himself.

“I thought so.”

The number on the elevator finally flashed to the number two, indicating its descent. It was coming down too quickly for her liking.

“Plus,” Cat added, her heart now in her throat, “I’d rather...you know--” She shrugged-- “go for someone older.” Was that too much? She bit her lips together and looked up at him, waiting for his response. The smile reached his eyes before his dimples lifted the corners of his lips, temporarily easing some of the nerves that began to creep up her stomach. She was so focused on watching his face, the tiniest brush of his fingers against hers almost made her jump in surprise. Finally, some contact!

She giggled when the elevator dinged for them to board, and fully entwined her fingers with his. His hands were so much warmer than hers, and the way his thumb rubbed the back of hers just made her blush.

“So how was your day?” Peter asked as the doors shut. Cat’s neighbors definitely noticed this hand-holding-thing, and faced the doors immediately to make it look like they didn’t just start staring at them. It would be a miracle if Hannah didn’t know about this by daybreak, with how everyone knew her. Cat shrugged.

“Good,” she started with a grin as the elevator made its way up. “Heard Cam went on a date. How’d that go?” Maybe if he was still on it, they could keep talking for a little while...or something. Maybe revisit some of what they were doing in the lobby earlier. Not that she was eager or anything.

Peter laughed and dug his phone out of his pocket, then flipped to something to show to her, leaning in against her arm as he showed her. “You tell me.” It was a text from Cam, two hours ago, that read, Not coming back tonight, punctuated with a winking smiley face. Cat let out a single laugh--though, really, it should have been expected. Everyone but Cam seemed to know he was into Brad. She tried not to let it bother that it took her this long to realize how similar Cam’s situation was to hers.

“Well, then,” was all she could say, shaking her head. Ding. Second floor. The neighbors stepped off quickly; right as Peter took a step, Cat made a point to keep her feet planted, and watched for his reaction. The whispers of the neighbors died away, and some of Cat’s nerves returned. She bit her lip, and he just stared at her. She swallowed a little, shrugging. “In that case, maybe we could….” She reached her free hand forward a little and gently pressed the button to the third floor. Peter glanced at the button panel, taking stock of the moment, freezing her heart into place. Did he not want to? They didn’t have to do anything, really, but she wasn’t ready for the night to end quite--

“You--” Peter started as the elevator doors closed. His fingers loosened from hers. The blood drained from her face. “You’re okay with this?” What? What was this? Cat’s breath refused to leave from her throat. All she could do is nod, but he waited for her to speak, his brows knitted together.

“A-are you not?” she managed to squeak out. The elevator stopped, the doors opened to the third floor hallway. But now that her hand felt so empty, hardly touching him, a feeling similar to horror grabbed at her chest.

“What? Of course I am!” Peter said, seemingly surprised. “I’m--I’m just checking in, because….” The human body wasn’t meant to experience the amount of emotions hers did in a day. Now she froze, confused, and her stomach just waited, as if it was asking, Should I be relieved, or should I just wait just in case?

“Is this...too much?” She let her hand fall away from his, numb. The light above the elevator doors blinked, indicating they were ready to close. He pressed the “door open” button to get the light to flick off. “Am I moving too fast?” Peter shook his head and turned to face her straight on, taking a step toward her as he sighed.

“Too fast, are you insane?” They laughed, but hers was more nervous, although the way he looked at her, the warmth in his eyes, made her stomach settle. Peter reached for her hand again, holding it with two of his, and held it up to his chest, against the peacoat where he radiated with such warmth it rivaled the heater system. His heart beat against the prickly skin on his neck, just above the little scar, steady but a little quicker than usual. “I’m just checking,” he said with a warm smile.

She shrugged. “Well, you didn’t kiss me when I saw you, so….” Peter didn’t need telling twice, thankfully, and stepped up to her to lay his lips upon hers. Just for a moment, though, enough to give her one jolt to the chest. He barely pulled away, his breath warm on her face.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to keep talking about it….”

Cat let out a dry laugh and squeezed one of his hands. “We’ve done enough talking. No more talking.” On her tippy toes, she tried to kiss him again, but he stepped away, pulling her out of the blinking light of the elevator and into the hallway with a devious smile. Now that’s what she was talking about.