O8 I Feel Myself Falling Further Down

"I FEEL MYSELF FALLING FURTHER DOWN"

Peter followed my directions, taking us to Sound Check. A store that sold CDs, vinyls, cassettes, and merch--most of it preowned. Cherry and I used to go there often when I briefly dated Ivan. He worked there back in tenth grade.

After he dumped me, I couldn't come here. It hurt too much to see him and the girl he left me for, who happened to be his coworker.

Now, two entirely new employees managed the small store.

We stepped in to the smell of incense and a Beatles' song playing overhead. The walls were covered in layers of posters of musicians from every genre of music. The vinyls were organized at the center of the store. In the back were the shirts and the wall opposite the register was full of CDs and cassettes.

"Have you been here before?" I asked Peter as we wandered the aisles.

"I didn't even know this place existed." He looked around the store in awe. His fingers lightly touched the vinyl records as we passed them. Picking up an Olivia Rodrigo record, he said, "Your song kind of reminds me of her."

Hearing that was the highest of compliments. She was one of my top musical inspirations. Heat flooded my cheeks and I turned away so he couldn't see.

Thankfully, something else distracted him. As I suspected, when he saw the shirts, he went straight for them. "This might be my new favorite store," he exclaimed, pulling a Green Day shirt off the rack.

"What is your obsession with band shirts, anyway?" I didn't think I'd ever seen him in a non-music related shirt.

He placed the shirt back, looking at the other options. "I like music."

I thought he was going to leave it at that, but he continued.

"When my mom first left I kinda locked myself in my room and listened to music all day, everyday. My dad and brothers did their best to help me through it. But I couldn't stop blaming myself for her leaving."

He'd been going through the shirts but not really looking at them. When he reached the end, he sighed, pulling a hand through his hair. He must've been lost in some memory.

"Why did you blame yourself?" I asked, carefully. He seemed so fragile at the moment. A huge contrast from his usual self.

He turned his attention to me, his light eyes had a heaviness to them I'd never seen before.

"You don't have to answer that," I said quickly. "It was a dumb question."

He shook his head, washing away whatever sadness was there a second ago. "No. It's fine. I, uh, I caused my parents divorce."

"No, you didn't." The words were automatic. Even if I knew nothing about his parents, I knew he didn't ruin their relationship.

"How could you know that?" There was and edge in his voice as he asked.

"Because that's not how relationships work. You can't make anyone break up." I knew that for a fact because my mom tried to force me to break up with every boyfriend I ever had. Granted, she'd been right about them each time.

His eyes turned an icy blue as he glared at me over the shirt rack. "No offense, but you have no idea what you're talking about."

I took a step back like I'd been burned by his words. "Forget I asked." I turned on my heel, leaving him to sulk among to t-shirts alone.

A lump rose in my throat. If Peter's super power was winning over any adult, mine was pissing people off. Making the most polite boy in the world snap was an achievement. I deserved an award.

I tried to distract myself from crying, by going through the CDs. Maybe Daniel was right. I was too sensitive. Why would Peter not wanting to tell me about his parents divorce upset me?

"I'm sorry." I hadn't heard Peter sneak up behind me.

My back stiffened as I swallowed back the threat of tears. "It's fine. I should've minded my business."

I stepped down the aisle, not taking my eyes off the rows and rows of CDs and cassettes. I couldn't look at him. I didn't know what my face looked like, but I was sure it betrayed my nonchalant act.

"Faye," he tried again, his voice low and cautious. "Can you look at me?"

"I'm not in the mood for eye contact."

He released a sigh. Then, without warning, wedged himself between me and the shelf. I kept my eyes trained in the same spot, like I could see the display of CDs through his collarbone.

When I didn't look up at him, he gently took my chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted my head until I met his eyes. I allowed it because it was so unlike him that my curiosity was piqued.

"My mom's kind of a sore subject," he said. Voice even. Eyes steady as they peered into mine.

"Clearly." I couldn't help myself. My feelings were confused and sass was my coping mechanism.

Peter didn't miss a beat, though. He probably expected I'd say something sarcastic. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"I should've known better than to ask someone about their parents." Especially mothers, considering the relationship I had with my own.

"So we're okay?" His gaze, unwavering, waited for my answer.

"Why wouldn't we be?"

Satisfied with my answer, he released my chin. The tension in his broads shoulders melted away. Still, he didn't move right away.

"You need something else, Conway?"

A slightly panicked, "I just got caught" look took over his face. He cleared his throat. "No. I was--Sorry."

He slid from between me and the shelf, careful to not step on my feet. I watched his back as he returned to the shirts, not sure what to make of that moment.

My phone vibrated in my bag and I fished it out to read the notification. It was an email. I normally ignored those since they were mostly from different shopping websites that I gave my email to for ten percent off my order.

This email was not trying to sale me things, though.

I stared at the email address for a solid five minutes, reading it over and over.

Bea Lopez just sent me an email. Usually, I'd needed Cherry to confirm the email address. But I knew it was legit because after that comment I got on my video last week, I did a deep dive on Bea Lopez. I even drafted a couple emails to her, but didn't have the guts to send them.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked, standing at my side with his brows drawn together.

I realized how weird I must've looked staring at my phone with my hand over my mouth.

"Bea Lopez emailed me," I said. Those were the only words in my head.

His forehead creased. "Who's Bea Lopez?"

My mouth fell open. Was this boy living under a rock? "She used to be a talent scout for a big lable. Now she's in business for herself, trying to start up her own record lable."

A few years ago when I searched for how to become a world famous popstar--I literally typed that into the search bar--I read an article about her. Back then having her own record label was just an idea. Now it'd been realized and she was sending me emails!

"That's awesome," Peter said, grinning. "What does it say?"

"I don't. I didn't read it. I can't read it. It's probably spam, anyway. I think I signed up for her promotional emails."

"Do you want me to read it?"

"Please!"

I all but shoved my phone into his outstretched hand. But instead of the phone, he studied me.

"You just said 'please'," he mused. "This must be serious."

I shook him by the forearm. "Peter!"

"Alright! Alright!" He chuckled, clicking the email. I hid my face in my hands. "Dear Miss Moore."

I was going to die.

"I came across your profile a few months ago and was instantly enraptured with your vocal talents."

I gripped Peter's forearm for stability, my other hand clamped over my mouth to keep from screaming.

"Your latest music video showed me that, not only do you have the vocals and songwriting abilities, but you have a unique and fun personality that's easy to relate to. Please contact me as soon as you can so we can go set up a face-to-face meeting." He meet my eyes. "That's it."

"Bea Lopez wants to meet with me?" I still couldn't believe it.

Peter beamed. "Sounds like it."

I took my phone back from him, reading the email with my own eyes. I was so excited I couldn't stand steal, bouncing from foot to foot. "I cannot believe this."

"I told you that you had a summer hit."

Excitement bubbled in me, spilling over in giggles and squeals. Peter chuckled at my reaction. Needing to do something with myself, I threw myself at him, hugging him tightly around the neck. This time he didn't hesitate to hug me back, lifting me off the ground and spinning me around. It was all so dizzying and not from the spinning.

"I have to tell Cherry!" I said when he set me back down.

I'd sent my best friend a text to meet me at my house before Peter and I made it back to the car. She was outside my house, play tug-of-war with Freckles as my dad and mom watched from the porch when we got there.

Freckles greeted me and Peter as we entered the yard, her tail wagging as I pet her.

"Your parents were out here when I showed up," Cherry told me. "I ran over so when they saw me all out of breath they asked and I told you had big news. I hope that's okay?"

I pulled her into a hug, still buzzing from the email. "It's fine. This is actually perfect because I get to tell you all at once."

Gripping Cherry's hand on one side and having Peter standing on my other, I turned to my parents.

My mom was in rare form wearing jean shorts and one of my dad's old t-shirts. My dad had his arm arm around her shoulders as they sat on the porch.

"Well, come on, kiddo. Don't leave us in suspense." My dad was already grinning like my excitement was infectious.

Cherry gave my hand an encouraging squeeze.

"This lady who works in the music industry, Bea Lopez, heard my songs and wants to meet with me."

"Oh my god! Faye!" Cherry cried, wrapping me in a tight hug.

"Hey, that's sounds pretty cool," my dad said, coming over to bear hug me. "I knew you were going to be singer. You were hitting high notes as soon as your mom popped you out."

"Dad!"

"It's the truth," he said, releasing me from his hold. "We have it on video. Let's watch it."

"Absolutely not!"

Peter, or anyone for that matter, didn't need to witness me being born.

"I don't know about all of this, Faye." I turned to my mother who was now standing, arms crossed over her chest. "What about school?"

"Abby, it's just a meeting," My dad said, moving to stand next to her and rubbing her shoulder. "Nothing is set in stone."

"Thank you, Dad!" My mother, like always, tried to ruin my mood, but my dad had my back.

"Look at her, Henry." She swung her arm out, motioning to me. "She's practically foaming at the mouth. If this Bea woman offers her a record deal, she won't hesitate to throw her future away to chase some silly dream."

I stepped forward, but Cherry held my hand tight to keep me back. "When have I ever said that?"

"I know how you are, Faye." That was a bold statement coming from her. "You jump blindly into situations without any thought about how it may affect your future."

"If that's what you think, then you know nothing about me!"

She planted her hands on her hips. "You are not going to that meeting."

"You don't get to decide that!" She wasn't taking this from me. I'd earned it.

"As long are you're under my roof, what I say goes!"

"UGH!" I groaned. She was unbelievable. The greatest moment of my life, and she found a way to ruin it.

Still holding on to Cherry, I turned to Peter. "Can we go?"

His eyes darted to my parents. My mom fuming, green eyes narrowed at me in a challenging and my dad trying to calm her. Peter gave me a short nod and the three of us walked to his car.

"Where do you think you're going?" My mother shouted, rushing down the driveway. "You're still grounded!"

My dad had to pull her back from the car as I slipped into the passenger seat and Peter drove off. I watched my dad try to calm my mom down in the sideview mirror until I couldn't see them anymore.

***

The roof of Cloud Creamery was bathed in golden late after noon light as the sun set. We set up the table and chairs. Peter got to sit on his own since Cherry was dry this time. Plus she knew I like physical contact when I was upset and wrapped her arms tightly around my middle.

I had time to calm down on the drive over, so I was no longer seething. Instead I felt confused. What horrible thing had I done to my mom to make her want to strip me of any happiness I had?

When Peter offered to get us all ice cream, I asked Cherry that very question as I placed my head on her shoulder. It felt weird talking to Peter about my mom after what happened in the record store earlier.

Cherry rested her head on mine. "Maybe it's nothing you did. Maybe she had all the wrong examples of being a parent growing up."

"Well, she needs to take some pointers from my dad," I sighed.

"I don't know." She giggled. "Didn't your dad hold you upside down once while you were choking on a jawbreaker when you we were five?"

I smiled at the memory. "I'm still alive, aren't I?"

Peter came back up the ladder holding a Cloud Creamery bag with our ice cream. He passed them out and we removed the tops and dug into our single scoops. Cherry and I had our usual, and Peter had rocky road with cookie crumbles and chocolate sauce.

We ate our treats in silence. I couldn't help noticing that Peter hadn't said anything since we fled my house, other than offering to buy ice cream.

"Are you okay?" I asked him. I hoped my fight with my mom didn't send him spiraling about his own mom.

He poked at the marshmallows in his ice cream. "What happened back there was intense."

"Oh, that's my mom on a good day." It was meant to be a joke but it didn't even land with me. "I think your charm is wearing off. She usually hides that side of herself when you're around."

A corner of his mouth lifted. "That's definitely on me. I forgot to smile. That's how I win the parents over."

My lips curved into a small smile. Even our jokes couldn't lighten the mood.

"Getting that email from Bea Lopez is a huge deal," Cherry said, squeezing me with her free arm. "Don't let your mom take that from you. You better set up that meeting, too. If you need a parent present, I'm sure your dad will go with you."

I nodded, taking another bite of my ice cream even though I could barely stomach it. "Maybe. All I know is that I can't stay in the house with her tonight. Can I sleep over?"

"I wish you could," she said. "But we're going to my grandma's for dinner. We might end up staying a few days."

Dread washed over me. I had a feeling if I went home I'd wake up with my door and window bolted shut.

"You can stay over at my house."

My head whipped in Peter's direction. "Really?"

"Yeah," he said. "My dad won't mind. My brother's have their girlfriends over all the time." His cheeks pinked as he realized what he said. "Not that--I mean, my dad's cool with girls in the house."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded, his hair bouncing. "My brothers might make a big deal about it, though. So I could sneak you in if you don't want to deal with them."

I remembered the other night with their group hugs and surprise photos. "Sneaking in might be best."

When we left Cloud Creamery, we dropped Cherry off at home just as the rest of her family were getting into their car.

As promised, Peter snuck me into his house. It was easy. Since his room was on the ground floor, I simply had to climb in through the window. Our homes had similar layouts. At my house, this room was used for storage since it was the smallest. I guessed Peter got the room since he was the youngest.

I took in his room. Everything from the awards and trophies displayed on his bookshelf, to the neatly made bed. Not a single wrinkle in the plaid comforter. There were photos of him and his family on the walls in between the band posters. In the corner, by his closet was record player, vinyls stored in a shelf below it.

"Not what you were expecting?" He asked from behind me. He came in through the front door, making sure his brothers were distracted as I snuck in.

"Nope," I answered truthfully. "I thought there'd be harp music and little cherubs flying around."

"You haven't checked under the bed yet."

We both stood awkwardly in the middle of his room. I nervously picked at my nail polish. He tugged at his curls. Neither of knew what to do next. I ran my randomly sweaty palms on my jeans.

"Do you want change into something more comfortable to sleep in?" He asked, already heading to his drawer.

"I was just going to go commando, but if you insist." I didn't have to see his face to know it was bright red.

"You can change in here." He turned back to me with a shirt and flannel pajama bottoms. "Evan made meatless spaghetti, if you want some?"

"Sounds good."

He ducked out of the room, closing the door behind him, and I stripped out of my clothes. Standing half naked in a boys room without said boy was new to me. I put on the clothes Peter handed me. I instantly recognized the Fallout Boy shirt as the one he wore on the last day of school.

That seemed like so long ago now. It was crazy how much changed between Peter and me in such a short time. If you'd told me I'd be spending my summer with Mr. Perfect, Peter Conway, I would've died laughing.

There was a thump at the door, followed by Peter whispering my name. I rushed over to open it. He came in, holding two plates of spaghetti. Two cans of soda tucked under his arms. He must've kicked the door since his hands were full.

He set the food on his dresser, wincing as he grabbed the two cold soda in his hands. "I microwaved the food," he explained.

"There's this crazy new invention called oven mitts to protect your hands exactly for this purpose."

"Ha ha," he said.

He motioned for me to sit on a recliner next to the record player while he brought over the still steaming plate. He draped a clean shirt over my legs before setting the plate on my lap.

"I feel like I should tip you."

"I accept CashApp, PayPal, and cold, hard, cash," he shot back, taking his own plate to his bed.

He grabbed the tv remote and started up a movie while we ate. Even without the meat, Evan's spaghetti was delicious.

As we ate and laughed at the movie on the screen, things almost felt normal. Until, all at once, the fight I had with my mom came back to the surface. Paired with the fact that I wasn't sleeping in my own familiar bed tonight, my appetite vanished.

Why was it so hard for her to be happy for me? Why did she have to have things her way? She chased Sabrina away and now she was trying to do the same to me. How was the woman who was supposed to love me be so cruel?

"Faye? What's wrong?"

Peter set up on his bed, observing me like an injured animal. I wiped away a single angry tear. "Nothing. Just tired."

I could see the doubt on his face at my obvious lie. He didn't say anything as he took my half empty plate and soda can. He grabbed himself a pair of pajama pants before leaving out.

When he came back I was still in the recliner, looking at the movie on tv, but not really watching.

"You can take the bed, I'll take the chair," he suggested, folding the blankets down for me.

"What, no chocolate on the pillow?" I teased, half heartly, as I climbed into his bed.

His eyes narrowed, voice serious. "If you find any chocolate, it's mine and it has to be returned immediately."

A smile broke across my face as I laughed. He dropped the act, and beamed like my laughter was a reward.

He took a pillow and a blanket and turned out the light.

"Your bed is big enough for us both," I told him. Which was true, but I pointed it out for purely selfish reasons.

"It's fine," he said, over his shoulder as he set up the chair for him to sleep in.

"You've done so much for me already. I can't kick you out of your bed."

"Faye, really, it's fine."

"Please?"

He stopped what he was doing, turning to face me. The glow of the TV lit up both our faces. I blinked back tears, swallowing the lump in my throat to no avail.

"I just--It's dumb," I said, swiping at an annoying tear. "But when I'm like...this...I like having someone next to me."

I held my breath as the boy in front of me remained silent. My mind flashed back to that day in Daniel's room, when I tried to tell him the same thing and he kicked me out. If Peter did the same thing...

He picked up his pillow and blanket and came over to the bed. I moved closer to the wall to give him room.

"Thank you," I said through sniffles.

"Wow," he gasped as he lowered himself  on the bed. "Please and thank you? I might be rubbing off on you."

My laugh was watery. "I have manners. I choose not use them."

Once he was settled in the bed, he turned to me. I knew I looked a mess, crying in his bed. But that's not how he looked at me. He reached up to cup my face between his hands, using the pads of his thumbs, he wiped my tears.

"Sorry," I said, feeling ridiculous.

"You're starting to scare me," he said back, wiping away more tears. "Quick, say something sarcastic."

I stared up at him. His fluffy blond curls and ocean colored eyes. His square jaw, and full, pink lips.

Kissing him would be a mistake. Not just because I'm vulnerable right now, but because he basically told me he couldn't be with me or anyone else.

My eyes fell to my hands. "I can't think of anything. I might be broken."

He held my face, bringing my eyes back to him. His gaze pierced mine."You're not broken, Faye." His voice was soothing, yet firm.

I wanted to believe he was right, but I didn't feel it. Instead, I dissolved into tears.

"Come here," he cooed. He laid back against the pillows, bringing me with him. My cheek rested on his chest. His hand stroked my hair as I sobbed into his shirt.

I didn't know which came first, the end of my sobs or me falling asleep. Either way, Peter held me the entire time.

*******

I wrote this chapter four days ago and still get emo when I reread it. I love these characters so much!

We're getting a little more into Peter's back story.

And that fight with Faye and her mom 😬

And of course I had to pull out the only one bed trope because who doesn't love that?

Thank you all so much for reading this chapter!

If you enjoyed, please let me know by leaving a vote and/or comment 🥰