Dear Peter,

It's funny.

You two were always day and night.

A perfect balance.

Charlie spoke a mile a minute, with so much energy that it was intoxicating. In a good way.

You were serious most of the time, but even your stubborn nature couldn't resist some of his jokes.

I learned a lot about Charlie that day. Granted, that hadn't been my goal, but I didn't mind it. I didn't have many friends in the city, despite the years I'd lived there. And Charlie seemed like a great candidate. I was surprised to learn that he was an artist. Not because of his demeanor or his personality, but because he was a friend of yours.

You were different.

Your walls refused to crumble. I don't know, Peter, but I had a feeling you just didn't like me. That's something I've never admitted to you. And at that time, it hurt. It made me wonder, the slightest bit, was there something wrong with me? Was I annoying, or just not good enough for you? Luckily, this feeling didn't last long. But I'll save that for later.

"So," said Charlie after downing what was left of his coffee, "What do you do here in the city that never sleeps?"

After fidgeting with my hands a bit, I finally answered.

"I'm a writer."

I saw a smile tugging at his lips, and that was enough to make me happy. A lot of times, people didn't take my profession seriously. They doubted that I would ever make a living for myself. It was impractical, they'd warn. Luckily, I always had my parents by my side. And Zoya. And that's all I needed.

Charlie's green eyes were full of not only understanding, but respect. He was an artist. Of course he understood what it was like to not have people believe in you.

You leaned back in your seat. You hadn't said a word yet, but I could tell that you were going to say something, until Charlie beat you to it.

"Do you live around here?"

A little disappointed that I didn't get to hear what you were going to say, I nodded.

"Just a few blocks North. I live with my best friend."

Charlie threw his hands in the air.

"No way," he threw an arm around your shoulder, "I live with my best friend, too!"

It came as a surprise. I'd assumed that you liked being alone so maybe you lived alone.

"Peter," I turned towards you, ignoring the way my stomach churned when you met my eyes, "Do you have another match coming up?"

You shifted in the seat, folding your arms into the table. Leaning forward, you licked your lips before speaking.

"Next weekend," you stated, shrugging, "Why?"

I picked at the pasta in front of me with a fork, pushing my hair behind my ear.

"I'd love to come."

Charlie smiled at the idea, his eyes lighting up. You laughed a bit darkly, and leaned forward on your elbows. Charlie watched the exchange, quietly and slowly chewing on his food.

"The arena isn't a good place for someone like you," you said before relaxing, your shoulders falling back.

"Someone like me?"

I pushed my plate aside, feeling my heart pounding. This was the most you'd ever spoken to me, and I didn't want it to end.

"Don't take it personally. It's not a good place for anybody."

I looked to Charlie, who simply shrugged. Apparently, cryptic words were a commonality when it came to you.

"Then why do you go there?" I challenged, feeling nerves rise. I didn't want to offend you, but I was curious. I bit my tongue to refrain from pointing out that you were being hypocritical.

Your eyes narrowed and you glared at me, trying to read my expression and my innocent smile.

"Anyway," Charlie slapped his hand on the table, desperately trying to ease the tension that had formed in a matter of seconds, "This food is great. It'd be a shame if it got cold."

I smiled graciously at him and continued eating. Him and I fell back into conversation between bites, while you sat back in your chair and either stared at your food or looked up to study me. I pretended not to notice.

Twenty minutes into lunch, Charlie sulked back in his seat. It was time to go soon, and I could tell he really didn't want to.

"Pete, you sure we can't stay longer? Lucy's so great and I think I might be in love."

He winked towards me and turned back to you, obviously joking. But something about the way your eyebrows furrowed and you tore your gaze from mine was unsettling.

"Then you can stay. I'll be outside in the car."

You pushed your chair back with a little too much force, drawing attention from those sitting around us. I watched as you spun around and left the cafe, not without meeting my eyes for a second. I saw a hint of regret flash across your face, but it was gone too soon.

My heart dropped a little. I didn't realize that I'd been staring at the door until I felt Charlie's hand on my arm.

"Hey," his voice was soft, "it's not you, trust me."

Within seconds, he went from being jovial and childish to serious. He ran his hands down his face in frustration.

"Peter..." he paused, gathering his words, "Peter isn't a bad guy. He's the opposite, actually. Right now is just a tough time for him, and it takes him a while to open up to people."

I nodded, trying to understand, but I couldn't.

"I promise," Charlie spoke again, noticing my doubt, "He enjoyed this. I've known him for almost a decade."

I couldn't bring myself to believe him. You had enjoyed that lunch? It seemed anything but.

"I'm glad I met you, Lucy," Charlie's smile returned, "I think that Peter could use someone like you in his life."

I wasn't quite sure what he'd meant. It seemed almost cryptic, but I nodded, assuring him that I appreciated his words with a weak smile.

Suddenly, a thought crossed my mind. The wedding dress! I couldn't believe I almost forgot to ask.

"Is he getting married?"

Upon hearing my question, Charlie blinked. And then again.

Then, he erupted in laughter. After laughing so hard that I could see tears brimming his eyes, Charlie finally took a deep breath.

"Nah, that dress is for his sister. She's getting married in a week."

A feeling of relief washed over me. And maybe it was visible, because Charlie's eyebrows raised in amusement. I tried to hide the blush that arose to my cheeks, but to no avail.

I didn't know why I was so relieved.

Charlie's face lit up, as if he'd had a great idea, and he eagerly took my hand.

"Would you like to come? I get to bring a plus one, and, uh," he blushed the slightest bit, "You can come as my date! You can even bring your friend if you want."

It was perfect. I wanted to get to know you, Peter Grayson, and this opportunity was too great to pass up. Plus, Charlie's excitement was infectious. It took all that was in me to not to embrace him and thank him for making my mission so much easier.

I was going to break down your walls, Peter. And at first, it was for a project. I wanted inspiration. Don't get me wrong, that was still a motive. But now, I wanted to more than anything to figure you out.