Chapter 6: Broken Mirrors: One leg out

Peter:

Peter woke up refreshed and full of energy. Despite the lingering unease from the strange man outside the abandoned house, yesterday was etched in his memory for an entirely different reason — Lucky7, his new girlfriend. A smile crept onto his face at the very thought of her.

He slowly kicked off his blanket and hopped down to the floor to start his usual morning push-ups, counting each one with rhythmic determination.

Breaking his own unwritten rule, he reached for his phone immediately afterward. No new messages. A pang of disappointment nudged at his mood — he’d hoped to see a text from Lucky7 lighting up his screen. Then again, maybe it was his turn to make the first move.

Should he text her? Or call? More importantly… where should he take her? Something cool. Something different. Something that’d show her he was not like every other guy.

But she already knew he was different — she had told him so herself. Maybe he didn’t need to try harder than usual.

But then again… was trying harder the same as pretending to be someone else? Or was it just pushing himself to give a full 100% instead of his comfortable 70%? Peter wasn’t sure what to think.

He sighed and flopped back onto the bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

This might be harder than I thought, he murmured inwardly, the smile from earlier now replaced with a thoughtful frown.

A knock at the door pulled him from his haze.

“Come in,” Peter called out to the room.

Clara burst in like a breeze of fresh spring air, beaming like she had just won a prize. She dragged the chair from his desk closer to the bed, flopped down, and leaned in over him with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Birds are singing, Peter,” she said in a sing-song voice. “Word is, you’ve got a girlfriend. And contrary to what Mom still seems to think, it’s not Lex, is it?”

“Shit. Nothing gets past you, huh?” Peter didn’t even look her way, still gazing at the ceiling. “Who told you?”

“Does it matter?” Clara grinned. “Rumors fly fast when Jason’s in the middle of it all.”

"That's true," Peter mumbled.

"Clara, I’ve got a girlfriend—but honestly, one, I don’t know how it even happened; two, I don’t know her name; and three, I have no idea where to take her on a date."

He said it all in one breath, then sat up on the edge of his bed and stretched his legs out in front of him. Finally, he turned to face Clara and added, "Sis, I need help."

"Oh brother," she said with a smirk, dragging the chair from his desk closer to the bed and leaning in. "You're going to have to give me more than that."

And so Peter told her everything. How the night unfolded, in as much detail as his scrambled memory would allow. Clara nodded along, asking questions here and there, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and maybe just a touch of mischief.

When he was done, she hopped off the chair and plopped down beside him on the bed, crossing her legs and nudging his shoulder with hers.

"First of all," Clara began, flicking a strand of hair behind her ear, "Lucky7 is the perfect name, considering how insanely lucky you were to even meet her. Second, she liked you because you were completely yourself. No acting, no pretending, no trying to impress her with flashy lines. Just raw, honest Peter. She clearly appreciates your no-bullshit approach to life—which, by the way, is kind of your entire brand—so I think the best thing you can do is call her and say you’d like to see her again."

She paused dramatically, raising an eyebrow. "Because you do want to see her again, right?"

"Of course I do," Peter said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just don’t know where."

"Exactly!" Clara grinned, triumphant. "So, like I said—call her, tell her you want to meet up, but you’ve got no clue where. Boom. Done."

"Clara, how is that supposed to help me? I was supposed to plan something romantic, something date-worthy, not sound like a clueless idiot on the phone."

"Didn’t bother her when you started the whole thing by asking her to make a fool of you in front of her friends," Clara shot back, nudging him with her elbow. "I really don’t think your honesty is going to scare her off now."

Peter sighed and leaned back on his hands, eyes narrowing in thought.

"Okay… but what if she doesn’t know what to do with me either? What if the whole thing falls apart before it even starts?"

Clara laughed and leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Then maybe it wasn’t meant to last.”

"Okay, so when should I call her?" Peter asked, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice.

Clara let out a groan, throwing her hands in the air. "Peter, you're four years older than me, and I swear, eight years behind in understanding anything I say. Just act when it feels right. Say what you feel and what you think, and it’ll be fine. So? When do you want to call her?"

"I don’t know… now? What time is it? Will I wake her? Is that bad or… maybe good?"

Clara smacked her forehead dramatically and stood up from the bed, planting her hands on her hips. In that moment, Peter could’ve sworn she was the spitting image of their mom—stern, exasperated, and terrifyingly right.

She checked her phone. "It is, dear brother, 8:47 AM. Which just so happens to be the exact time of day reserved for doing what you feel like doing, not tiptoeing around society’s silly little rules. Got it?"

"Alright," Peter muttered, reaching for his phone and dialing Lucky7’s number. "Wish me luck, sis—and please, keep quiet while I make a complete fool of myself."

Clara gave him a solemn nod and reclaimed her spot on the chair next to his bed, lips zipped but eyes wide with curiosity. Peter held the phone to his ear, heart pounding, only to frown moments later as he lowered it again.

"She’s not picking up. That’s… probably bad, right?"

Before Clara could spiral into another storm of frustrated sibling wisdom, the phone suddenly buzzed in his hand—Lucky7 calling. Her name glowed on the screen like a neon sign from the universe that maybe, just maybe, things weren’t doomed after all.

Peter glanced at Clara, whose face said two things with terrifying clarity: Pick. It. Up. And if you hesitate one more second, I will personally throttle you.

He swallowed, pressed the green button, and lifted the phone.

"Hey… did I wake you?"

“Oh? And would you want to wake me up, Mister Peter?” came Lucky7’s voice through the line, catching him completely off guard. Her tone, light and teasing, carried that mesmerizing softness that made Peter wish this call would stretch on forever.

“The truth is… I just really wanted to spend more time with you. I couldn’t wait to hear your voice again.”

“So, you don’t care if I got any sleep or not. Good to know,” she replied, without even a hint of annoyance—just that same amused tone that somehow made him feel like the center of the universe and a complete dork at the same time.

“I’m already losing points,” Peter admitted. “I have absolutely no idea where to take you.”

Lucky7 laughed—a sound so warm and effortless, Peter felt like he could live in that laugh. It wrapped around him, undid him, made his heart skip half a dozen beats.

“Perfect. That’s exactly what I was hoping for,” she said at last. “So when do you want to meet?”

“Whenever it works for you,” he said honestly.

“So… I get to choose the place and the time? Peter, I can already tell this is going to be the best date I’ve ever been on,” she replied, clearly amused. “Just don’t be late,” she added with a playful warning, and then—click. The call ended.

Peter sat frozen, staring at the phone in his hand like it had just burst into flames.

Clara, watching from the side, raised an eyebrow. “Sooo… how’d it go?”

Peter turned his head toward her slowly, eyes wide, soul clearly still rebooting.

“…I have no idea,” he said.

"Peter Stark, you know absolutely nothing!" Clara teased, putting on her best faux-serious voice.

"Oh, stop it. You’re a Stark too. Aren’t you tired of all those references already?" he shot back, clearly irritated.

"Sorry, I just couldn’t help myself," she grinned. "You don’t know anything about this girl—not even if you're actually going on that date. Oh Peter, I can’t wait to meet her."

"I don’t know if you’ll get the chance after that phone call," he muttered, glancing at his screen—just in time to see it light up with a new message from Lucky7.

Lucky7: It was nice hearing your voice. I couldn’t wait either. Let’s meet at the park, by the entrance to the amphitheater, 2 PM. —Zoe.

Clara saw the look on his face and immediately jumped up. "What? What is it? Tell me!"

Peter looked up at her, eyes wide with elation. "You were right, sis! I’ve got a date at two o’clock. And my girlfriend’s name is Zoe!" he shouted, leaping up and punching the air in triumph like he’d just won the lottery.

Clara let out a cheer, clapping her hands. "Let’s go, Zoe! My job is done here brother". She said moving towards the door. “Peter,” she said, pausing, “I really think you need to talk to Zoe about your friendship with Lex—properly, openly. Not just a mention in passing. If you don’t, it might create unnecessary drama down the line when she sees you two together. And from my experience… what you and Lex have? It’s rare. And very easy to misread.”

Peter sighed, nodding slowly. “Yeah… you’re right. Some of the guys actually brought that up to me recently. They thought me and Lex had a thing.” He chuckled, but it didn’t carry much humor.

“Exactly,” she said. “If your friends—people who know you—misunderstand it, imagine how it might look to someone who’s just starting to get close to you.”

Peter looked off to the side, out of the window. “Yes, yes... I need to tell Zoe. Like, really tell her. Before anything gets twisted.”

Peter: I will be there.

He replied to Zoe's message, then quickly called Evan, asking him to meet at the abandoned house in an hour.

When Peter arrived, the sunlight filtered lazily through the trees, casting long, soft shadows across the overgrown yard. The old house stood in front of him—worn, weathered, but strangely quiet.

“During the daylight, it doesn’t look so scary,” Evan said, stepping out from behind a tree with his arms crossed, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

“It still does,” Peter replied, letting out a short laugh. “Come on, let’s head inside while no one’s around.”

They pushed open the old gate, which groaned in protest, and walked in. Dry leaves crunched under their shoes, covering the ground completely, making any search for footprints pointless.

Peter didn’t seem too concerned with that—he strolled slowly toward the front door, his eyes scanning the yard and the porch, taking in every detail. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for exactly, but anything unusual, any sign of someone being there recently, would be something.

The house loomed before them, its crooked silhouette stubbornly resisting the passing of time. Windows like empty eyes stared blankly out at them. Ivy clung to the rotting siding like veins.

“Come,” Peter said, pushing open the weathered door. It gave way with a reluctant moan.

Inside, nothing had changed at first glance.

The air was stale, tinged with mold and something else—faint, but off. The floorboards groaned beneath their weight. Dust blanketed everything in sight. The old tattered rug still lay half-rolled by the door, and white sheets continued to drape the forgotten furniture like sleeping spirits.

They moved slowly through the room, eyes scanning corners and shadows.

“No tracks outside,” Evan muttered. “Too many dry leaves. We wouldn’t have seen any even if someone was here.”

Peter didn’t answer immediately. Something was off. Not overtly, not enough to scream danger—but he could feel it.

He circled the room again, more methodically this time. His gaze swept the fireplace, the chairs, the table. Then he stopped. His heart gave a dull thud.

The shelf beneath the cracked oval portrait was empty.

He stepped closer, eyes narrowing. “Something’s missing.”

Evan turned. “What?”

“There was a music box here,” Peter said quietly. “Small. Metal. Shaped like a tower.”

Evan raised a brow. “You sure?”

“I’m sure. Alexa found it here. I even remember her winding it for a second. It played this weird, broken melody. Gave me the chills.” Peter stared at the spot where it had been. Dust outlined where the base had rested—undisturbed for who knows how long, until now.

But now the outline was broken. The clean square where the music box once sat was jagged at the edges, as though it had been moved recently, but not carefully.

“Someone took it,” Peter said under his breath.

“Why would anyone want a creepy music box from a place like this?” Evan asked.

“I don’t know,” Peter answered, a chill crawling up his spine. “But someone came here. Not just walked in. They knew what they were looking for.”

Peter leaned in closer to the shelf, his fingers brushing the outline left by the missing music box. As he inspected it, something else caught his eye—thin, uneven scratches etched into the wood just along the edge where the box had rested. They weren’t from fingers. They were too sharp. Almost like tiny claws.

“What the hell…” he murmured, running a fingertip over the grooves.

Evan stepped beside him. “Scratches?”

Peter nodded, backing up slightly. “And look.”

The dust below the shelf was disturbed. But not by shoes. A trail of faint impressions patterned the thick grey layer—like something small had been walking there. Four little pads. A clear paw print.

“Is that a… cat?” Evan crouched down, peering at the print.

Peter nodded slowly. “Looks like it.”

Evan stood, eyes darting around the room now with renewed focus. “Hang on.”

He moved toward the center of the parlor, scanning the dusty floor more carefully now. “Peter… they’re everywhere.”

Peter followed his gaze—and sure enough, the same paw prints reappeared over and over, tracing strange, looping paths across the room. Around the covered furniture. Along the rug. Even near the stairwell. In some places they doubled back, circling like the creature had paced in confusion… or anticipation.

“No actual cat could’ve been locked in here this whole time,” Evan said, frowning. “And if it was, how did it even survive?”

Peter didn’t answer. He was staring at a point near the base of the fireplace where the tracks ended—just stopped. No turn. No retreat. Just one final set of paw prints. Like whatever had made them had vanished into thin air.

Peter and Evan stepped back out into the grey light of the day, the abandoned house creaking one last time behind them like it was sighing in relief—or warning.

“I don’t like it,” Evan muttered as they latched the rusted gate behind them. “That box, those paw prints… something’s off.”

Peter nodded, distracted. His eyes scanned the treeline just past the road. “There’s something else I want to check.”

“More ghost houses?”

“No.” Peter turned toward the path leading into the woods behind the neighborhood. “Camping spots. Alexa’s usual ones. They’re not far.”

Evan raised a brow. “You think she lied about the trip?”

Peter didn’t answer at first. He just started walking. “I think she went somewhere. But not where she said.”

Evan hesitated, then followed.

They crossed into the trees, where the buzz of the town faded and the soft hush of wind through leaves took over. The forest was calm, damp from last night’s rain, the smell of wet bark and soil thick in the air. A faint trail wound between the pines, familiar to Peter, who had joined Alexa on a few of her past trips.

“You sure she comes out here?” Evan asked, stepping carefully over a tangle of roots.

Peter nodded. “Yeah. First clearing’s just up ahead.”

A few minutes later, they emerged into a small open space, ringed by trees and carpeted in long grass and wildflowers. The firepit in the center was cold, the stones undisturbed. No ashes. No wood. No footprints.

“Looks untouched,” Evan said, spinning slowly in place.

Peter was already walking the perimeter. “It is. She didn’t come here.”

They pressed on. Another half hour passed. They hit the old meadow with the mossy log where Lex liked to sketch in the mornings. Nothing. No wrappers, not even a stray hair or a scuffed boot print. Just nature. Pure and undisturbed.

Evan blew out a breath as they hiked up a slope to the third and final clearing—this one deeper in, with a view that looked out over the low hills. “Two hours in, and we’ve got jack.”

Peter crouched down near the usual tent spot, his fingers sifting through the pine needles. “That’s the point.”

Evan frowned. “So she lied.”

“She definitely wasn’t camping,” Peter confirmed, standing. “Not here. Not anywhere near here. These spots are her go-tos. There’d be something left behind.”

They stood in silence for a moment, staring out at the empty forest. The sun filtered through the high branches, casting long lines across the ground like slashes of light.

“You think she went back there?” Evan finally asked. “The other world?”

Peter nodded slowly. “I do. And I think she didn’t want me to worry.”

Evan glanced at him. “Are you worried?”

Peter let out a breath. “Terrified.”

They started heading back toward the path. The air felt colder now. The trees a little taller. The spaces between the trunks a little darker.

“But not because she’s in danger,” Peter added. “Because she went alone.”

“Next time she goes, we go too,” Evan said firmly.

Peter gave him a sideways glance and a small smile. “You’re in deep already, huh?”

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

Evan laughed. “Too late to back out now. I want answers too. Especially after that haunted house bullshit.”

Peter checked his phone as they descended a narrow, pine-covered slope, boots crunching over dry needles and roots.

“Shit,” he muttered, eyes widening. “It’s almost eleven.”

Evan, a few paces ahead, glanced back. “What’s the problem?”

“I’ve got a date.” Peter started moving faster, picking his steps with more urgency. “With my new girlfriend - Zoe.”

Evan blinked, then grinned. “Dude. So you know her name now?.”

“Yeah, which means I need to not show up smelling like dirt and conspiracy,” Peter said, practically jogging now.

They cut down through a ravine where a small creek trickled lazily, hopping across on mossy stones and grabbing tree trunks for balance. The undergrowth was thick in places, snagging on Peter’s hoodie as they pushed through a patch of brambles.

“This is the part of the hero’s journey no one talks about,” Evan muttered, breath a little short. “Racing through the woods to make it to the girl on time.”

"What are you talking about? Aren’t most stories about heroes going after their girls?" Peter shot back, laughing between strides.

By the time they reached the edge of the forest and the familiar rooftops of town came into view, Peter was already pulling leaves out of his hair. They jogged the last stretch along the narrow path that led back toward the neighborhood.

At the street corner near Evan’s place, they paused, catching their breath.

“This was weird,” Evan said, wiping sweat from his brow. “The house, the music box, the cat prints…”

Peter nodded, still slightly out of breath. “Yeah. I’ve been living in this strange world ever since my first visit to that place. Now it’s your turn.”

Evan held out a fist. “Alright, Stark. Go impress your girl. I’ll do some thinking. Maybe poke around more tonight.”

Peter bumped his fist and offered a grateful smile. “Thanks, man. I owe you.”

Evan smirked. “You can pay me back in otherworldly revelations.”

With that, Peter turned and broke into a light jog, heading for his street. His house came into view, quiet and still under the brightening sky. As he reached his porch and swung open the door, the weight of the morning began to settle—only to be pushed aside by a new burst of nerves.

He had twenty minutes to shower, change, and pull himself together.

Zoe was waiting.

And for now, the strange world could wait.

Peter stood near the entrance to the amphitheater, one foot tapping softly on the cobblestone path as he double-checked the message on his phone for the third time.

Zoe: It was nice hearing your voice. I couldn’t wait either. Let’s meet at the park, by the entrance to the amphitheater, 2 PM. —Zoe.

The digital clock on his screen blinked 1:59 PM.

Right place, right time, he told himself, pocketing the phone with a breath that tried to steady the nerves in his chest. He glanced around—autumn had painted the park in strokes of amber, rust, and gold. The breeze carried the laughter of children and the smell of fallen leaves.

Then he saw her.

For a heartbeat—or maybe two—the world narrowed to just one figure.

Zoe moved through the crowd like she didn’t notice it—or perhaps like the world subtly adjusted itself around her. Her face was something out of a dream. Soft, warm cheeks with playful dimples, full lips curled into a sly smile, and those eyes—those impossible, icy blue eyes—that seemed capable of freezing time, and possibly restarting it at her whim. Her golden-blonde hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, a few rebellious strands catching the light like threads of sunlight. It gave her a mix of elegance and energy.

She wore a fitted jacket in a soft earth tone that complimented her figure and hinted at the changing season, the hem dancing just above the curve of her hips. Her jeans hugged her slender frame, and a scarf draped loosely around her neck added just enough elegance to make her seem both casual and utterly captivating.

Peter felt the breath leave his lungs for a moment, replaced with a flutter of something far less controllable. As she neared, she tilted her head slightly and offered that unmistakable smile—one that carried confidence, mischief, and something deeper, just waiting to be uncovered.

“Hey,” she said simply, her voice wrapping around him like a secret breeze.

“You are breathtaking in the light of day,” Peter said—though he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. It had simply slipped out, a thought too strong to contain.

Zoe raised an eyebrow, her lips curling with playful intent. “Oh? So the evening light was less kind to me?”

He laughed, caught off guard. “I can’t think of any light that wouldn’t flatter you. And I’m pretty sure you already know that.”

She grinned, a flash of mischief in her eyes. “I like that fierce energy, Peter.”

They stood facing each other for a moment longer, the hum of the park behind them fading beneath the gravity between their words.

“Thank you for inviting me on a date,” she added. “I must admit, you chose the perfect time and place.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, half-smiling. “I have to admit something... again. I really just wanted to see you, but my mind went completely blank when it came to planning. I’m terrible at this sort of thing. Always have been.”

“I appreciate honesty, Peter. I really like that about you,” she said, her tone softening. “And I didn’t mind choosing the place or the time. In fact, I liked that too. It’s a rare thing, being given that kind of space.”

He tilted his head, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

They started walking, following a quiet path shaded by tall trees, their shoes brushing through leaves still wet from morning dew.

“Well,” she began, her hands tucked in the pockets of her jacket, “most guys our age seem to think they always know best. They never ask. They just decide. They plan what they think we should like, instead of letting us show them what we actually want.”

Peter nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah... I think I’m the opposite. I feel best when I can read the moment and adjust to it.”

Zoe looked up at him with a spark in her eye and nudged him gently with her shoulder. “You do that really well. And yet, you still manage to stay completely yourself.”

He smiled at her, a little stunned by how easily she cut through him with kindness. “Thank you,” he said, the words simple but heavy with meaning.

Peter and Zoe strolled slowly through the park, the golden hues of autumn casting long shadows between the trees. The sun filtered gently through the amber leaves, warming their shoulders and making everything feel touched by something tender and unspoken.

"I heard you made some inquiries about me through Jason, is that right?" Zoe asked, her tone casual but laced with mischief.

"Ha!" Peter let out a laugh. "Totally wrong. I told him about you, sure, and a bit about what happened that night at the party, but I never asked him to dig into you. He texted me later, said he found out your name, but I told him I didn’t want to know from him."

As he spoke, he pulled out his phone and scrolled to the chat with Jason, showing it to her like a badge of honor.

Zoe looked at the screen, then back at him. Her face was serious, a quiet strength behind her gaze. “Peter, I believed you when you said it.”

Then her voice softened, but there was a firmness underneath. “For the future, you don’t need to prove to me that what you say is true. If you feel like you do… I’ll start wondering if some things aren’t. Are we clear?”

A subtle smile tugged at her lips.

Peter smiled right back, heart pounding a little harder. “Crystal. And I like that rule. I’ll hold you to it too.”

“Is that so?” she said, raising a brow. “You know, Peter, for someone who claimed to play for points at the party… you feel like the first guy who actually isn’t playing anything. You say what you feel. Please don’t change that. It’s… refreshing.”

“I don’t intend to,” he replied. “And honestly? That’s exactly what drew me to you. I feel like you do the same.”

Zoe glanced at the leaves under their feet as they walked. “I try to be. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t steer things a certain way with you. Sometimes, it was… a defense mechanism. I’m sorry for that.”

“I get it,” Peter said. And he meant it.

They walked in silence for a while, watching the birds dart between fallen leaves, couples going through the winding paths, kids laughing over a game of catch, and the faint notes of a girl singing to her guitar by a bench. The peaceful scene stirred something in Peter—an echo of another bond.

“Zoe,” he began, clearing his throat, “there’s something I feel I should tell you. I want to be open with you from the start. Someone told me it could be a deal-breaker.”

Zoe turned to him, her eyes clear and unreadable.

“I have a female friend, Lex. We’ve known each other since we were kids. Just friends—always have been.”

“I know about her,” Zoe said, her gaze locking onto his.

“You do?” Peter blinked, a little taken aback.

“Yes,” she nodded, calm and composed. “I made my own inquiries about you, Peter. What can I say? I wanted to know more.”

“And how… do you feel about it?” he asked, bracing himself.

Zoe’s expression didn’t waver. “I think I don’t know yet. I’d need to see you two together to really understand. But I won’t be making demands—that’s not my style. Besides, if you two did have feelings for each other, I imagine you’d be a couple already. Or… not friends anymore.”

Peter felt a wave of relief wash over him. “That sounds… about right. I’m glad you see it that way.”

He wanted to say he loved Lex like a sister, but something made him hold back. Not because it wasn’t true, but because the moment didn’t call for it. And for the first time in the entire conversation with Zoe, he felt a small, silent sting—because until now, he’d had nothing to hide.

“I don’t have male friends,” she said suddenly, unprompted. Her voice was calm, but there was a soft ache laced underneath. “It always seemed to me that most boys find me... intimidating. They back off pretty quickly.”

Peter looked at her, surprised by the confession. “Does that include boyfriends too?”

She nodded, eyes fixed ahead. “I’ve tried a few times. It never lasted long. Turns out, most of them were only interested in what I looked like—not in what I had to say. You know what I mean?”

“I like both,” Peter said, almost too quietly.

She turned to look at him, brow raised. “Both?”

He felt a twinge of heat on his neck. “I mean... your looks and what you say. And how you say it.” He managed to glance back at her—and saw the faintest flush rise on her cheeks.

Her smile returned, touched by something playful and sharp. “Now, now Peter, are we playing for points again?”

“You know I meant it,” he replied, voice low but steady.

“Oh, I know,” she whispered, and this time, she didn’t just smile—she drifted a little closer to him as they walked, their shoulders brushing like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Are you curious about those boyfriends?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper, soft enough to be mistaken for wind through the trees.

Peter glanced sideways at her, measuring her expression before replying. “No,” he said with a quiet certainty. “But I am curious about you. Tell me more.”

She gave him a smile—small, but sincere. “I’m really good at school. I don’t just coast through.” That made them both chuckle, the tension breaking for a breath. “I actually enjoy learning. Especially science—biology in particular. But I also love running. I do track at school. That’s where I first met Lex, actually. We never really talked, though.”

Peter raised a brow in pleasant surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “But maybe I’ll change that. Since you like her.” She shot him a look, as if seeking silent permission.

He nodded without hesitation. “I’d like that.”

“I don’t have any siblings,” she continued. “My parents are divorced. I live with my mom—she’s a nurse. And she’s awesome. Tough, sharp, funny. The best.” There was a flicker of pride in her voice. Then, more quietly, “My dad... kind of abandoned us. So, yeah. Not someone I talk about much.”

Peter’s voice was quick but gentle. “Got it.”

“I’ve got one close friend—just one. You met her at the party, actually. The Black girl with the round face, the one who practically ordered me to go easy on you?” Zoe grinned.

“Yeah, I remember,” Peter smiled. “She was... very persuasive.”

“Her name’s Pamela. But most people just call her Peaches. She’s also awesome.” Zoe’s face lit up in a way that made Peter instantly want to meet Peaches again—this time, properly.

“Is she into running too?” he asked, curious.

“Nah,” Zoe shook her head. “She plays some volleyball, but she’s not really into sports. We mostly study together and talk. She just... gets me.”

Peter smiled, feeling the corners of his world expand just a bit more. “I like her already.”

“I know you don’t like movies and you like the color grey,” Peter began, tilting his head slightly with a curious smile. “Anything else you might be willing to share?”

Zoe let out a soft laugh, brushing a golden strand of hair back into place behind her ear. “I might’ve been a little dramatic with the whole ‘I don’t like movies’ thing. I like some—just not the ones drowning in drama or trying too hard to be profound. Sci-fi, action, the occasional offbeat indie thing—I can enjoy those. But books... books are my go-to.”

“You read?” Peter asked, a spark of interest in his eyes.

“Absolutely. I’ve always got something going. Why?”

“Same here,” he said, his voice lighting up. “I’m actually in the middle of Gardens of the Moon right now.”

Zoe’s eyes widened, clearly impressed. “Malazan? Seriously? Peaches is into that series too. I’ve heard it’s brutal but brilliant.”

“You’re, like, the first person I’ve met who even knows what that is,” Peter chuckled. “I have this friend, Tyler—he’s super smart and into books, but more into biographies and history stuff. And Lex, well… she’s all about art. No one ever really knew what I was into.”

“I like your enthusiasm,” Zoe said warmly. “It suits you.”

Peter grinned, heart fluttering a bit more than he’d expected. “What about you? Any guilty pleasures besides science and sprinting?”

Zoe tilted her head thoughtfully. “I love trying new food—like, I’ll eat anything once. But I’m not much of a cook myself, so it’s mostly wishful thinking. I did consider suggesting a restaurant for today, but… I didn’t want to come off as expecting you to pay.”

Peter chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. “Honestly? I would’ve probably suggested we split the bill. I don’t have a job—yet. Just get a monthly allowance from my folks. Most of my time goes into swim practice. But now that we’re… dating, I might look into that job thing.” He ran a hand through his hair and laughed, half-embarrassed.

“I’m cool with splitting the bill,” she said with a smile that warmed him like the afternoon sun. “If we’re sharing the experience, I think it makes sense.”

“I like that,” Peter said simply.

“I do work, by the way,” Zoe added. “Part-time at the library most afternoons during the week. I also tutor occasionally.”

“Well, that officially makes you cooler than me.”

“Obviously,” she teased, bumping her shoulder gently against his as they continued down the tree-lined path. They both stood still for a moment afterward, their foreheads gently leaning together, wrapped in that quiet space that exists only between two people beginning to fall into something neither of them can quite define yet.

„When are your birthday, Peter?” Zoe asked, her voice softer now.

„A question just in time. They’re this Wednesday,” he replied, grinning sheepishly. „I’m not expecting any presents or anything—we’re such a new thing. But… another kiss would be amazing.” He added the last part under his breath, his cheeks blooming with color.

Zoe laughed, that gleaming, disarming laugh that always hit Peter like sunlight. „Oh, that is very soon. As for the kiss… you’ve got to earn it, my boy.” She flashed him a grin, her perfectly white teeth adding to her glow.

„Understood.” He nodded, playfully serious. „So when’s yours?”

„Tenth of May,” she said with a proud little bounce in her step. „I’m a spring girl.”

Peter blinked, then burst out laughing. „No way!”

„Is that so hard to believe?” she asked, raising a suspicious brow.

„It is. That’s also Lex’s birthday. Ha, next year’s gonna be fun.”

Zoe’s smile faltered for a split second. „Don’t you worry. We might not be a thing next year.” She said it lightly, but something about her tone had an edge, like she was half-joking and half-defending herself from disappointment.

Peter shook his head and looked her straight in the eyes. „Nah. We are gonna be a thing forever,” he said without hesitation, the warmth and certainty in his voice cutting through her doubt.

She looked at him for a heartbeat, maybe two—Zoe leaned in, her hand brushed lightly against Peter’s arm, grounding him even as his breath caught in his chest. Their lips met gently, almost cautiously at first, like both were asking a silent question. But in the space between heartbeats, the world around them seemed to fall away. The laughter of children, the wind rustling through golden leaves, even the warmth of the sun—it all faded into a quiet blur. In that kiss, there was no room for doubt, only a kind of stillness that made Peter feel both fragile and unshakably alive. She pulled back slowly, her lips lingering like a secret, Peter looked at her, eyes searching, heart racing. „Did I earn it?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Zoe smirked and shook her head slightly. „I just felt like it,” she said—and this time, it was Peter who closed the space between them. He reached for her with a newfound steadiness, not because he had to, but because he wanted to—because not kissing her again felt impossible. Their lips met once more, warmer now, more certain, like a flame catching after a spark. Zoe responded without hesitation, her fingers gently curling into the fabric of his sleeve. This kiss was deeper, not in passion, but in knowing. It spoke not only of desire, but of comfort, curiosity, and the start of something real. And when they finally parted, just enough to breathe, their foreheads touched—and neither of them said a word. They didn’t need to.

„Oh Peter… I really liked that,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, still carrying the warmth of their kiss.

„You’re something else, Zoe,” he answered, his smile lingering as they slowly started walking again through the tree-lined path.

After a quiet moment, she spoke again—this time with more intention. „Walk me home, Peter,” she said, her tone calm but firm.

„You want to end the date now?” he asked, trying to hide the flicker of disappointment in his voice.

„Yes,” she nodded. „It’s better for me to take it slower. I rushed things quickly enough the first time we met, and now…” She glanced at him, a small, vulnerable smile playing on her lips. „It’s hard for me to restrain myself when I’m with you.”

„I’m okay with that,” he said gently. „I’ll go as slow as you need me to.”

She gave him a grateful look, one that said more than words ever could. The rest of their walk was quieter, filled with soft conversation—school, shared jokes, bits and pieces about their friends. The kind of everyday things that felt richer just because they were shared.

Her building wasn’t far—a tall, older apartment block nestled between rows of trees and sleepy sidewalks. When they reached the entrance, Peter walked her right to the door. They stood there for a moment, just looking at each other.

Then he pulled her into a hug—longer than casual, warmer than polite. She leaned into him, arms around his waist, her cheek resting briefly against his chest.

„Good night, Peter,” she said softly as they parted.

„Good night, Zoe,” he replied.

He watched her step inside, and only turned away when the door quietly closed behind her, already missing her presence.

On his way home, Peter couldn’t help but take out his phone. His fingers hovered over the screen for a second before he finally typed:

Peter: Will I see you tomorrow at school?

He hesitated for a heartbeat before hitting send, then tucked the phone back into his jacket pocket. The city felt quieter now, the evening settling in around him like a soft blanket.

A few moments later, his phone buzzed. It was her.

Zoe: Of course. Lunch together? I’ll have to work the afternoon shift at the library.

Peter smiled at the message, feeling that same warmth from earlier stir again inside him.

Peter: Lunch sounds perfect. I’ll bring something sweet.

Zoe: You already are, Peter.

He read her message three times, each one leaving a bigger grin on his face than the last.

Not long after, just as Peter was nearing his neighborhood and the golden light of the setting sun brushed the tops of the houses, his phone buzzed again in his pocket. With a soft smile still lingering from his date with Zoe, he pulled it out, half-expecting another sweet message from her.

But it wasn’t her.

Lex: Peter, I’m back home. Camping was fantastic. I feel really refreshed. Anything interesting happen while I was gone?

He stopped walking for a moment, staring at the message. His heart skipped. You wouldn’t believe it, he thought, thumb hovering over the screen.

Peter: We better talk. Should I come by?

The reply came quickly, almost too quickly.

Lex: Is it bad? Please come by.

Peter: I don’t know. It might be. I’ll be there in around 15 minutes.

Lex: OMG Peter. Just come quickly.

Peter: OMW.

He slid his phone back into his pocket and picked up his pace, heart beating faster now—but for a different reason. The air had grown cooler, and the quiet streets around him blurred as he made his way to Lex’s house.

As Peter rounded the last corner of the quiet street, the sight of Alexa’s house came into view—familiar and still, nestled in the shade of tall oaks that swayed gently in the morning breeze. There, as if a part of the porch itself, sat Marcus—her father—perched on a creaky wicker chair, an old DSLR camera resting in his lap. His thick fingers moved methodically over the buttons, flipping through photos with the slow reverence of someone reliving more than just moments. He didn’t glance up.

Peter hesitated at the edge of the walkway. His heart gave a little stutter as the memory resurfaced. The misunderstanding. The quiet but pointed tension when Marcus and his wife had assumed too much, too quickly, about him and Alexa.

He swallowed. Stepped forward anyway.

“Hello, Peter,” Marcus said, still absorbed in his pictures, though the timbre of his voice held weight—intentional and focused, like the lens of the camera in his lap.

“Good evening, Marcus,” Peter replied, though his words came out stiffer than intended. The moment was already brittle, cracking at the edges. He forced a smile that faltered before it could take hold. “Everything good?”

That finally made Marcus lift his eyes.

There was no malice in his gaze—but it held depth, the kind that made Peter feel ten years younger and far too transparent. Marcus studied him for a beat too long before exhaling through his nose, the kind of sigh that sounded like it carried an entire paragraph behind it.

“Yes,” Marcus said, but there was an unspoken but heavy in the air. He tapped the corner of the camera with a calloused thumb, then gestured vaguely toward Peter. “Just… be careful, Peter.”

Peter’s stomach dropped, just slightly.

Marcus’s voice was calm, even warm—but there was something measured in it. Intentional. “You and Alexa... you're close. And the closer you are to someone, the easier it is to hurt them—whether you mean to or not.”

Peter nodded slowly, uncertainty written all over his face. He suddenly felt like he was standing in the wrong shoes, playing a role he’d never auditioned for. He didn’t want to lie—he hated lying.

He wanted to explain—about himself, about Alexa, about the blur these past few days had become—but the words jammed in his throat like traffic in a tunnel. His heart thudded too hard for something so delicate.

Marcus watched him struggle for a moment, then offered the smallest of smiles. Not unkind. More like... understanding, but warning too.

“Begone with you,” he said with a flick of his wrist, and the weight of the moment dissipated just slightly, like fog lifting.

Peter laughed—too quickly, too gratefully—and made his way around the side of the house. The old ladder leaned exactly where it always had, its rungs worn smooth from years of midnight talks, secret entries, whispered confessions. The wood groaned under his weight, and with each step up, the knot in his stomach loosened a little. Not gone, but not choking him anymore.

He reached the window, gently rapped his knuckles against the frame, and waited.

The pane slid open.

And there she was.

Alexa.

Not the girl her father worried over—but the real Lex. Windswept from her weekend, cheeks pink from the sun, her hair loosely tied but escaping in soft strands, curling around her face. Her eyes found his with that familiar brightness, the kind that saw more than you said.

“Hey,” she said quietly, almost like she hadn’t dared believe he’d come.

Peter climbed the last rung and swung himself inside, landing in her room with a soft thud. It smelled like paint and citrus shampoo, like late-night laughter and old arguments that never mattered for long. The place hadn’t changed—but everything else had.

Alexa:

Alexa stood by the window, arms crossed loosely, as Peter climbed through into her room. She watched him in quiet anticipation, her heart unsettled. Part of her ached to tell him everything about her weekend—what she’d seen, what she’d learned—but the other part hesitated. She needed to feel out where he stood tonight. Maybe then she’d decide.

Peter landed softly on the floor and straightened, eyes locking with hers. He looked tense, but not anxious—driven.

“Lex, first things first—something happened at the abandoned house.” His voice was low and urgent. “I was at a barbecue at Jason’s, and I had this weird feeling… like the crystal on top of Mirror Tower—the one we saw—shattered. I couldn’t shake it, so I ran straight to the house. When I got there, someone was already leaving in a hurry.”

Her brows drew together. That made no sense. She was the one who shattered the crystal—in Ideworld. So… who had been on this side?

“Did you see who it was?” she asked, eyes narrowing.

“No. Neither did Evan—he was with me. Oh… and by the way, he knows everything now.”

“What?” Alexa blinked. “You didn’t want anyone to know, remember?”

“I know, I know.” Peter held up his hands. “But he was already caught up in it. I used him as an excuse for why we were at the house that first time, and… he saw me acting weird at the party. Kind of invited himself. But here’s the kicker—Lex, I showed him the photos from the other side. The ones that changed when you showed them to your mother. He believed me.”

She tilted her head slightly, curiosity softening her surprise. “Well… you’re not exactly the ‘makes-up-weird-magic-stuff’ type, Pete. People know that.”

He laughed, a short, sheepish sound. “Guess I’m not. But there’s more. A lot more. So… first, I know you weren’t really on a camping trip—you went back to the other world. Second, I want in. Next time you go, I’m coming with you. And with Evan, since I kind of promised him.”

He paused, took a breath, and then added like ripping off a bandage, “And third… I have a girlfriend now.”

Alexa blinked. Her mind ground to a halt, skipping over the magical revelations and latching firmly onto the last part. “You have a girlfriend now?”

Peter smirked faintly. “Yup. I knew that would be the part you’d zero in on.”

She crossed her arms a bit tighter. “Who?”

“Zoe. Zoe Harper. You two have track together.”

Alexa’s jaw dropped just slightly, her mind instantly conjuring the image—Peter in a tux, Zoe in a white dress, the golden sunset behind them like a scene from a teen drama she’d never admit to watching. “I know her,” she said slowly. “We’ve never really talked though. I guess I should fix that.”

Peter burst into laughter, and she gave him a side-eye. “What’s so funny?”

“She said the exact same thing about you.”

Alexa rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched at the corners.

“What about the rest Lex?” Peter’s expression turned serious again, and she took that as her cue. No more half-truths.

“You’re right. I wasn’t camping—I went back. And this time, I learned a lot.” She took a breath, then began. “First off, the world is called Ideworld. Like, world of ideas…” She told him everything—what she’d seen, what she’d done, what she still didn’t understand. And Peter, as always, listened like every word mattered.

When she finally stopped, he sat back, wide-eyed.

“Oh my god, Lex. Elves and faeries? That’s amazing! I can’t wait to go back with you and see you kick ass.”

She grinned, but it faded a little. “Going in and out isn’t the problem for me anymore. But this figure you saw—leaving the house—that’s troubling. We’re not the only ones moving between worlds now. We’ll need to be careful. I’ll explain it all again to Evan, properly.”

Peter nodded in agreement, then smirked. “You still can’t believe I have a girlfriend, can you?”

“I can,” she said, smirking back. “I just can’t believe she’s that beautiful.”

Peter clutched his chest dramatically. “Ouch. Am I that repulsive?”

She laughed. “No! You’re handsome, Peter. You’ve always been. You just… never knew how to charm girls.”

“Well,” he said with a wink, “turns out that was my charm. Zoe kind of likes that about me.”

Alexa couldn’t help it—she laughed again, this time freely. Then she curled up on her bed as he pulled the desk chair closer, and he began recounting the weekend—the park, the conversation, Zoe’s spark, and the kisses that melted the world.

And for a little while, magic took a backseat to the more mysterious force at play: young love.