5

PETER AND I ARE STANDING in line for popcorn at the movies. Even just this mundane thing feels
like the best mundane thing that’s ever happened to me. I check my pocket to make sure I’ve still got
my ticket stub. This I’ll want to save.
Gazing up at Peter, I whisper, “This is my first date.” I feel like the nerdy girl in the movie who
lands the coolest guy in school, and I don’t mind one bit. Not one bit.
“How can this be your first date when we’ve gone out plenty of times?”
“It’s my first real date. Those other times were just pretend; this is the real thing.”
He frowns. “Oh, wait, is this real? I didn’t realize that.”
I move to slug him in the shoulder, and he laughs and grabs my hand and links my fingers with his.
It feels like my heart is beating right through my hand. It’s the first time we’ve held hands for real, and
it feels different from those fake times. Like electric currents, in a good way. The best way.
We’re moving up in the line, and I realize I’m nervous, which is strange, because this is Peter. But
he’s also a different Peter, and I’m a different Lara Jean, because this is a date, an actual date. Just to
make conversation, I ask, “So, when you go to the movies are you more of a chocolate kind of candy
or a gummy kind of candy?”
“Neither. All I want is popcorn.”
“Then we’re doomed! You’re neither, and I’m either or all of the above.” We get to the cashier
and I start fishing around for my wallet.
Peter laughs. “You think I’m going to make a girl pay on her first date?” He puffs out his chest and
says to the cashier, “Can we have one medium popcorn with butter, and can you layer the butter? And
a Sour Patch Kids and a box of Milk Duds. And one small Cherry Coke.”
“How did you know that was what I wanted?”
“I pay a lot better attention than you think, Covey.” Peter slings his arm around my shoulders with
a self-satisfied smirk, and he accidentally hits my right boob.
“Ow!”
He laughs an embarrassed laugh. “Whoops. Sorry. Are you okay?”
I give him a hard elbow to the side, and he’s still laughing as we walk into the theater—which is
when we see Genevieve and Emily coming out of the ladies’ room. The last time I saw Genevieve,
she was telling everyone on the ski trip bus how Peter and I had sex in the hot tub. I feel a strong
surge of panic, of fight or flight.
Peter slows down for a second, and I’m not sure what’s going to happen. Do we have to go over
and say hi? Do we keep walking? His arm tightens around me, and I can feel Peter’s hesitance too.
He’s torn.
Genevieve solves it for everyone. She walks into the theater like she didn’t see us. The same
theater we’re going into. I don’t look at Peter, and he doesn’t say anything either. I guess we’re just
going to pretend like she isn’t here? He steers me through the same set of doors and picks our seats,
far left toward the back. Genevieve and Emily are sitting in the middle. I see her blond head, the back
of her dove gray dress coat. I make myself look away. If Gen turns around, I don’t want to be caught
staring.