Dear Peter,

At this point in our story, I knew I had feelings for you. I don't know if I can ever pinpoint the exact moment during which you captured my heart, but I was drawn to you more and more each day. I wanted to learn every inch of your mind and soul and get lost in your heartbeats.

Just the way I had on this exquisite night:

"Do you know it's been seven weeks?" I questioned, turning towards you, eyebrows raised in humor. 

You'd just won another match. Day by day, you were getting closer to the championship. I always supported you in your matches, you knew that, but I hated seeing you fight. It was something I wish I could tell you to stop doing. I knew that it wasn't your dream and that you were capable of bigger and better things. It was just difficult to find a way to explain it to you.

Confused, you ran a hand through your hair, which was growing back rapidly fast. We were sitting on the roof again for another "session." At this point, we both knew that those were just excuses for us to meet.

"Seven weeks since what?" You asked, walking over to the edge of the roof. You placed your hands on the cold concrete of the ledge, peering down at the restless traffic. A cool breeze danced around you, making you shiver the slightest bit.

I felt like you knew exactly what I was talking about.

I sat my journal down and stood by you, crossing my arms on the ledge. 

"You told me I would only have seven weeks with you, remember? I guess today's our last day."

I kept my gaze on the city below us, allowing the sounds of horns blaring, shoes splashing in puddles, and music playing somewhere in the distance to fill my ears. These were the sounds of home.

You laughed, another sound that I never grew tired of. 

"It's okay to break a rule once in a while, no?" 

Your crooked smile told me that you'd intentionally stolen my words from one of my first official encounters with you. It made my heart flutter and uninvited butterflies dance in my stomach. The fact that you remembered our moments meant more to me than you could have ever imagined.

I decided to challenge you.

"You also said that you wouldn't let me into your life."

A cunning smile graced my lips, and I could feel you looking at me, but I didn't dare look away from the view.

"Did I?"

Finally, I turned to face you, recognizing amusement in your features. Your eyes--they glistened in the night sky. Do you know how some people's eyes are home to specks or goldens or greens or blues? Yours weren't. It was like I could see the stars in your eyes sometimes. And as I stood there, this absurd thought running through my mind, I realized something.

I'd fallen in love with the stars in your eyes--the ones you'd stolen from the night skies.

I backed away from the ledge, tearing my gaze from yours.

"Yes, you did. You've made a number of promises to me that you haven't kept, Peter Grayson. I'm beginning to think that I shouldn't trust you."

I sat back down on the bench, ignoring the way that my heart raced with my thoughts.

"How do I regain your trust then, Lucy?" You were humored by my words, playing along with a game that you didn't know you'd lose. The faint music that was likely playing from a bar nearby was now the only sound I could hear. Smooth jazz mingling with the breeze.

"Make me a promise you can keep," I finally stated, my hand on my chin in thought. You paced in front of me, your face contorted in contemplation. 

The music grew louder, and that's when you stopped to face me.

"I'll promise you a dance," You said, closing the distance between us so that we were now only a few feet away. You held out a hand, your eyes beckoning me to take it.

I did.

I slipped my cold hand into yours, allowing you to pull me up. 

"Our first dance wasn't exactly, um..," you smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck with your other hand, "It wasn't ideal."

I laughed at the memory. It was at Daisy's wedding. Charlie had sent me spinning into your arms, and you were beyond annoyed that I was even there. It was tense and I'm not even sure we could call it a dance.

I placed my other hand around your shoulder as yours snaked around my waist. The music was perfect: slow yet melodic and our feet fell into its rhythm flawlessly.

"We'll just say that this is our first dance," I said, earning a nod from you. 

It was our first and only. 

"You know," My eyes met yours, "You can learn a lot from someone by the way that they dance."

I tried to ignore the way that you so gently held on to me and how it was just the two of us on the rooftop, falling in love without knowing it.

"Really?" Your eyebrows arched, "What does my dancing tell you?"

We swayed back and forth to the sweet melody, our faces just inches apart. 

That was the moment in which I realized that I'd done it. I had gotten through to you, Peter Grayson. I made you human; I made you vulnerable.

"It tells me that you're gentle. Your hands are rugged from your matches, but your touch is as soft as a cloud." 

You chuckled, your shoulders vibrating, and shook your head.

"You know, I'm learning a lot, too."

I tried to hide the shock from my features, but nodded, urging you to continue. 

"For one: you're like a smaller, prettier, modern-day Shakespeare," you pointed out, earning a laugh from me, "Two: I like the way that your hand feels in mine."

Now, your expression was serious. You seemed to be lost in your thoughts. It almost looked like you were afraid of the words that had just escaped your lips, betraying your mind.

I know I was. 

We swayed a bit more, lost in each other's embrace, unaware that the music had gradually halted long ago My head was on your chest, my thoughts swimming in the melody created by your steady heartbeats.

"Peter?" I lifted my head to see you already looking down at me, "Why are you still fighting?"

I meant it in more ways than one. Why did it always seem like you held back when we were together? You never said to me the words that riddled your thoughts. Why did you keep fighting these matches, literally and figuratively?

You face hardened and you averted your gaze.

"Lucy," You sighed, giving me a look of warning, "Don't ruin this."

For the first time, I listened. I placed my head back onto where it belonged on your chest, letting the faint thumping of your heart capture me and keep me as its permissive victim.

***

(A/N) So those of you who have been reading this story already, you've probably noticed that I'm no longer using italics. I was getting complaints that it was annoying for the reader, so I went back and read the first few chapters and realized that it did get old pretty quickly.

So I think that if I just write the letters in regular font, I'm still able to distinguish between past/present just through tone and vocabulary. What do you guys think?

If you liked this sweeet chapter, please VOTE and let me know!

9 more left. Lots of surprises ahead ;)

Thanks for reading. Love you all xxx