words fall through me—

it’s basically a coveted covey tradition—

the christmas cookie bonanza. something he’s watched the song covey girls do since they were children. and after far too long of being on the outside, wanting to join in (for VARIOUS reasons, changing over the years), this year he’s INVITED.

prints out his own recipe to try and everything.

maybe there’s nerves coiling in the pit of his stomach; but it seems insignificant the moment lara jean opens her front door and smiles brightly at him. his l a r a j e a n.

@tealhatboxed / / / starter call

she hadn’t been PLANNING on inviting peter ; not until kitty had brought it up on their drive home last week.  it wasn’t like lara jean had deemed peter’s presence at the christmas cookie bonanza necessary - they were only fake-dating, after all. it was simply a game of charades ( an overly well-thought-out game that involved way too many people, in lara jean’s mind ). it’d started out with just kitty knowing , and then eventually, the rest of their families had caught on, and now here they were.

the christmas cookie bonanza is tradition. it’s sacred & one of lara jean’s favourite days of the year. the festivity of it all, surrounded by those she loved most - which, this year, included peter. they’d started out as a way to make genevieve jealous & for lara jean to avoid an awkward conversation with josh, but with time, she’d gotten to relearn and know peter. to fill in the blanks of bits and pieces she’d heard from conversations, and connect the dots between their shared childhood till now. chris & her dad had both made passing comments about how peter made her HAPPY. comments that kept her awake for longer than she’d ever admit. was purely platonic, that’s all. they were helping each other out, and she’d have today to prove it. there were no romantic feelings on her end. 

the doorbell rings, jolting her from her thoughts. ( I’LL GET IT. ) she yells, beating kitty and running straight towards the door - PETER, holding a piece of paper in his hands. he’s already written her a note for the day ( a note that has been left unread, currently stuck between the pages of her latest read ).  

suddenly feels sheepish, embarrassed.

maybe the coveys have a predetermined list that they use every year. maybe he’s overstepped, maybe he’ll show them his recipe and they’ll laugh because it’s not good enough—

shakes his head. peter kavinsky is not the kind of guy who second guesses himself. (regardless of the way lara jean makes him feel, or the way that he loses grip of his words when she catches his gaze, or anything else.)

❛  thank you, i promise i’ve outgrown most of my clumsin- peter?  ❜ 

that was the thing — the fucking kicker, the cherry on top of a shitty, melted ice cream sundae. he didn’t want to be here. the truth is, it’s only been a few years and he’s—

yeah. he’s not over her.

that much becomes abundantly clear the second she walks through those gym doors; the balloon arch and the fairy lights and the old speaker playing top hits from their graduation year all fade away.

lara jean.

he’s drawn to her, inexplicably so. even after all this time. pretty sure there will always be a part of him that can’t give up lara jean. he watches her for a while, in between stilted conversations and forced laughs and the same faces saying the same things over and over again. he finds himself at the dessert table when she wanders over himself.

and fuck, fuck, he doesn’t think he can do this, he can’t be this close to her, he can’t talk to her—

lara jean trips. she’s still so clumsy, even after all this time. he catches her, out of habit, out of instinct, out of some undeniable need to still be near her.