Debbie Siro

“Hey, Large,” Gabe says, flicking me with his towel. “Where you been all day?”
“I’ve been around.” I look over at Peter, but he won’t meet my eyes. “I saw you guys on the slopes.”
Darrell says, “Then why didn’t you holler at us? I wanted to show off my ollies for you.”
Teasingly I say, “Well, I called Peter’s name, but I guess he didn’t hear me.”
Peter finally looks me in the eyes. “Nope. I didn’t hear you.” His voice is cold and indifferent and so un-Peterlike, the smile fades from my face.
Gabe and Darrell exchange looks like oooh and Gabe says to Peter, “We’re gonna head out to the hot tub,” and they trot off.
Peter and I are left standing in the lobby, neither of us saying anything. I finally ask, “Are you mad at me or something?”
“Why would I be mad?”
And then it’s back to quiet again.
I say, “You know, you’re the one who talked me into coming on this trip. The least you could do is talk to me.”
“The least you could do was sit next to me on the bus!” he bursts out.
My mouth hangs open. “Are you really that mad that I didn’t sit next to you on the bus?”
Peter lets out an impatient breath of air. “Lara Jean, when you’re dating someone, there are just…certain things you do, okay? Like sit next to each other on a school trip. That’s pretty much expected.”
“I just don’t see what the big deal is,” I say. How can he be this mad over such a tiny thing?
“Forget it.” He turns like he’s going to leave, and I grab his sweatshirt sleeve. I don’t want to be in a fight with him; I just want it to be fun and light the way it always is with us. I want him to at least still be my friend. Especially now that we’re at the end.
I say, “Come on, don’t be mad. I didn’t realize it was that big of a deal. I swear I’ll sit next to you on the way home, okay?”
He purses his lips. “But do you get why I was pissed?”
I nod back. “Mm-hmm.”
“All right then, you should know that you missed out on mocha sugar donuts.”
My mouth falls open. “How’d you get those? I thought the shop didn’t open that early!”
“I went out and got them last night specifically for the bus ride,” Peter says. “For you and me.”
― Jenny Han, To All the Boys I've Loved Before

“The weight room is empty except for Peter. He’s at the bench press, lifting weights. When he sees me, he smiles. “Are you here to spot me?” He sits up and wipes sweat off his face with the collar of his T-shirt.
My heart squeezes painfully. “I’m here to break up. To fake break up, I mean.”
Peter does a double take. “Wait. What?”
“There’s no need to keep it going. You got what you wanted, right? You saved face, and so did I. I talked to Josh, and everything’s back to normal with us again. And my sister will be home soon. So…mission accomplished.”
Slowly he nods. “Yeah, I guess.”
My heart is breaking even as I smile. “So okay, then.” With a flourish I whip our contract out of my bag. “Null and void. Both parties have hereby fulfilled their obligations to each other in perpetuity.” I’m just rattling off lawyer words.
“You carry that around with you?”
“Of course! Kitty’s such a snoop. She’d find it in two seconds.”
I hold up the piece of paper, poised to rip it in half, but Peter grabs it from me. “Wait! What about the ski trip?”
“What about it?”
“You’re still coming, right?”
I hadn’t thought of that. The only reason I was going to go was for Peter. I can’t go now. I can’t be a witness to Peter and Genevieve’s reunion, I just can’t. I want them to come back from the trip magically together again, and it will be like this whole thing was just something I dreamed up. “I’m not going to go.”
His eyes widen. “Come on, Covey! Don’t bail on me now. We already signed up and gave the deposits and everything. Let’s just go, and have that be our final hurrah.” When I start to protest, Peter shakes his head. “You’re going, so take this contract back.” Peter refolds it and carefully puts it back in my bag.
Why is it so hard to say no to him? Is this what it’s like to be in love with somebody?”
― Jenny Han, To All the Boys I've Loved Before

“I hope Peter’s still out there. I don’t want to lose my nerve. So I quicken my pace and that’s when I spot him, alone in the hot tub, his head tipped back with his eyes closed.
“Hi,” I say, and my voice echoes into the woods.
His eyes fly open. Nervously, he looks over my shoulder. “Lara Jean! What are you doing out here?”
“I came to see you,” I say, and my breath comes out in white puffs. I start taking off my boots and socks. My hands are shaking, and not because I’m cold. I’m nervous.
“Uh…what are you doing?” Peter’s looking at me like I’m crazy.
“I’m getting in!” Shivering, I unzip my puffy coat and set it on the bench. Steam is rising out of the water. I dip my feet in and sit down on the ledge of the hot tub. It’s hotter than a bath, but it feels nice. Peter’s still watching me warily. My heart is racing out of control and it’s difficult to look him in the eyes. I’ve never been so scared in my life. “That thing you brought up earlier…you caught me off guard, so I didn’t know what to say. But…well, I like you too.” It comes out so fumbly and uncertain, and I wish I could start over and say it smoothly and confidently. I try again, louder. “I like you, Peter.”
Peter blinks, and he looks so young all of a sudden. “I don’t understand you girls. I think I have you figured out, and then…and then…”
“And then?” I hold my breath as I wait for him to speak. I’m so nervous; I keep swallowing, and it sounds loud to my ears. Even my breathing sounds loud, even my heartbeat.
His pupils are dilated he’s looking at me so hard. He’s staring at me like he’s never seen me before. “And then I don’t know.”
I think I stop breathing when I hear him say “I don’t know.” Did I screw things up that badly that now he doesn’t know? It can’t be over, not when I finally found my courage. I can’t let it be. My heart is pounding like a million trillion beats a minute as I scoot closer to him. I bend my head down and press my lips against his, and I feel his jolt of surprise. And then he’s kissing me back, open-mouthed, soft-lipped kissing-me-back, and at first I’m nervous, but then he puts his hand on the back of my head, and he strokes my hair in a reassuring way, and I’m not so nervous anymore. It’s a good thing I’m sitting down on this ledge, because I am weak in the knees.
He pulls me into the water so I’m sitting in the hot tub too, and my nightgown is soaked now but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything. I never knew kissing could be this good.”
― Jenny Han, To All the Boys I've Loved Before

“When I write, I hold nothing back. I write like he'll never read it. Because he never will.”
― Jenny Han, To All the Boys I've Loved Before