This story is pretty self explanatory the only thing I would like to touch on is that this is primarily based more on the movie than the book. Other than that, ENJOY!

Long nights with your hands up in my hair...

The stock boy at this grocery store is a sadist. No matter what I need, whether it's deodorant or Kitty's favorite pop tarts, it's always on the top shelf. My black converse squeak against the scuffed tile floor as I try to expand my 5'1" frame as much as my tip toes will allow. Having a movie night without popcorn is not an option.

I feel a familiar presence behind me and I see a large hand reach above me and grab the box of pop secret with ease. "Didn't I tell you this stock boy lives to make my life hell?" I huff, turning around to see Peter's teasing eyes twinkling in the fluorescent lighting. That's right, Peter Kavinsky's eyes twinkle. I've spent the past 6 weeks for our "relationship" pretending that the golden flecks in his eyes didn't make my stomach flip but, alas, they do.

"You've got a lot of things going for you, Covey." He quips, skillfully tossing the box in the air before catching it behind his back as we walk towards the check out line. "Height is not one of them." I shake my head. Is there anything he isn't good at?

Once we're in line at the self check out Peter's eyes narrow as he looks down at me. I feel insecurity prickle along the back of my neck before he brings a hand up to remove a strand of hair that escaped my messy bun and stuck itself to my eyelashes.

"Better." He rasps lowly, his lips spreading in a closed mouth smile that threatens to turn my knees into jello.

Goosebumps break out along my entire body. "Why is it always so cold in here?" I deflect and pull the sleeves of my hoodie over my chilly hands. When I say "my hoodie" I really mean Peter's Lacrosse hoodie that I adopted a couple of weeks ago. It's huge on me, reaching my mid thigh and almost completely hiding the running shorts I have on.

Who says a girl can't benefit from her fake boyfriend?

"That's what happens when you wear shorts in November." He chuckle with a light shake of his head. His giant hand slides over my shoulder and along my shoulder blade as he pulls me against him. "C'mere" he mumbles as he tucks me underneath his arm.

His scent engulfs me and I can't help but close my eyes and breathe him in. My inherited hoodie still holds faints traces of him but nothing compares to the real thing pressed up against my nostrils.

He doesn't smell like cheap body spray like other teenage boys. No, Peter is subtle. Soap, deodorant, sweat. Uniquely him.

As if they had a mind of their own, my treacherous arms wrap themselves around him and link at the small of his back. His hand cups the back of my head and he presses a kiss to my temple like it is like the most normal thing in the world.

My eyes shoot open.

Why are we doing this? There is no Josh to ward off, there is no Gen to make jealous. We know no one around us and no one knows us. Why keep up the act? If I'm being honest with myself the line that separates our fake relationship and our real one had started to blur more and more recently.

I remove myself from his grasp, avoiding what I know would be his disappointed gaze and turn my attention to the check out machine.

It's official... Kitty can not hang. When Dad told us he was working the overnight shift, she was so hyped up for Peter to come over so she could open his eyes to the beauty of Golden girls.

Three episodes and less than an hour and a half later, she is out like a light. I can't help but snicker at her askew glasses and the way her mouth is hanging open. As I take her glasses off for safe keeping, Peter rises from the couch and wastes no time in scooping her up. He stops in front of me on the couch and chuckled. "Is that genetic?" He asked, nodding towards me.

It takes me a minute to realize that my mouth is hanging open just like Kitty's was.

My hands mindlessly scrubs the buttery film from popcorn bowl as I let my mind wander to Peter. The way his strong arms lifted Kitty like she weighed no more than a rag doll, the way the corner of his lips lifted when she snuggled into his chest.

Get a grip, Lara Jean! He is your fake boyfriend, emphasis on the word fake.

Before I could berate myself for being jealous of my 11 year old sister, Peter appears next to me. He pushes up the sleeves to his long sleeve lacrosse t shirt and takes the wet bowl from my hands.

I watch intently as he dries the bowl, his eyebrows pulling together and his thick forearms flexing as he moves the dish towel of over the glass.

Everyone at school knows Peter for his athleticism and his charm but after all the time we've spent together these past months, I've learned he exceeds all of that. Peter Kavinsky is all heart.

Looking up at me from under his thick lashes, his mouth quirks into a smirk. "If I didn't know any better, I would think you have the hots for me, Lara Jean." He had caught me staring. I should be embarrassed but I'm not.

Bracing my hands against the island, I pull myself up to sit on the counter as Peter watches me with keen eyes. I reach out a hand to his shoulder and pull him to stand in front of me.

He places his hands on the counter on either side of me, so close that I could feel the heat radiating against my thighs. I avoid his concerned gaze and focus on picking the invisible lint on his shoulder.

"What is it?" He rasps.

Peter stands in front of me, his stomach pressing against my knees. I could feel his body heat seep through the thin cotton on his shirt and warm the bare skin of my legs. "I just want you to know that you're not just my fake boyfriend. You're basically my best friend."

As soon as the words leave my mouth, my heart pounds in my chest. The heat of embarrassment flood my cheeks and I hang my head to avoid his reaction.

Time seems to screech to a halt and a silence falls over us. "Look at me, Covey." His voice sounds so loud but in reality it is just above a whisper.

Reluctantly I look up at him and instantly my worries evaporate. His eyes are as warm as I've ever seen them. Even warmer than they are when he looks at Kitty or talks about his mom.

And his lips. They pulled up into a bright smile, causing the little scar beside his mouth to crinkle. I love that scar. "You're my best friend too, Lara Jean." He could've just said it to say it back but I can tell he means it.

Something swells in my chest, an unfamiliar feeling. Yes, I have had crushes before but this is different. Borderline overwhelming.

I feel as if my heart was about to burst so I do the only thing I can in the moment and I pull Peter into a hug. My arms wrap around his upper back, a slight panic rising inside of me when he doesn't react right away.

Just as I am thinking about pulling away, I feel his hands circle my lower back and his chest deflate as he releases a sigh into my neck. Goosebumps break out across my skin and a shiver shakes my body.

He pulls back with the smallest chuckle, his perfect lips lifting in a smirk. He felt that. Peter Kavinsky felt me practically trembling in his arms.

His eyes drop to my neck and despite the large hoodie I'm wearing I feel naked in front of him. I start to feel self conscious under his gaze and yank the collar of my sweatshirt up in an attempt to cover my neck. "My neck is super sensitive." I can feel the heat pulsing in my cheeks.

The look on Peter's face is something I've never seen before. His eyelids are heavy and there is something in his eyes that I can't quite place.

He clears his throat and looks away when he realizes he had been staring. I don't know why he looked at me like that but I wish he would do it again. Is this what Gen felt like every time he looked at her? Explains the bottomless vat of self confidence.

His scratchy voice breaks through my thoughts. "Are you sure you and Kitty are okay by yourselves while your dad is at work? I don't mind staying."

"I think we'll be okay." I say, giving him a sweet, closed lip smile. I hope he can see through me because I do want him to stay.

Peter is standing between my knees, his warm body a contrast to the cool countertop chilling the back of my knees. If I scoot just a couple inches forward our bodies would be completely flush against each other and I find that... intimate. "It's late, I'll get going." He says and he tilts his head to the side and presses his lips against mine.

A couple of weeks into our agreement, we made an amendment to our contract to include chaste kisses in situations where it was necessary. Situations like lacrosse parties and when Josh sees him drop me off.

Being alone in a darkened kitchen was not one of those situations. But here we are, his warm lips against mine. He pulls away with a quick intake of breath. I miss the sweet suction as soon his mouth leaves mine.

"Sorry, habit." He smirks but I can tell he feels bad. He starts to move away but there is a strange building feeling in the pit of my stomach and I reach out and grab his muscular forearm.

My hands move up his strong arms and his large palms cup my elbows. I watch as his face moves close, my eyes practically crossing as his nose brushes mine.

Every kiss we've had up until this point has been professional, quick and chaste. We've never done this and the anticipation between us is electric.

His lips finally find mine and my breath catches in my throat. His fingers whisper up my arms and cup the sides of my neck. His warmth surrounds me and I feel like I can just melt into him.

I've never felt anything like this before. This gravitational pull towards Peter was stronger than anything I've experienced. Suddenly I regret judging Margot when I found out she and Josh had had sex. I consider myself a very rational person but right now, in this moment I would do anything that Peter asked of me.

His lips suck at my bottom one as my fingers thread through the thick hair at the back of his head. I feel his fingertips whisper against the skin of my calves and I have to stop myself from wrapping my legs around his waist. But I do scoot closer to the edge of the counter so our stomachs are pressed together and in the process knocking a spoon off the counter.

The sound of the metal clanging against the floor brings me back reality. We are in my kitchen, out in the open. Kitty can come down at any minute!

Fisting the collar of Peter's t-shirt in both hands, I tear my lips away from his. "Peter", I breathe but I'm interrupted by his mouth slanting open over mine. His tongue slides along mine and whatever thought I had quickly dissipates.

It isn't sloppy and clumsy like the other French kisses I've had. Peter is a pro. My tongue submits to his, wet heat against wet heat. My stomach clenches and suddenly I need to be closer.

A brazen courage washes over me and I lock my arms around his neck. The action causing me to lift off of the counter and against his body. I have to say, I'm impressed at what my scrawny little arms are capable of.

My chest is tight and I'm afraid that I've forgotten how to breathe. My fears are confirmed when his hands slide along the back of my thighs. His hands bear my weight with such ease and I don't think I've ever felt safer.

I'm so focused on his lips against mine that it takes me a moment to realize that Peter's carrying me into the living room. He falls onto the couch and I land in his lap. We're lost in a fit of giggles, our faces only inches apart.

I know I may be biased but Peter Kavinsky is by far the most handsome being I've ever seen. Especially like this. Eyes crinkling when he laughs, his perfect lips stretched into a smile.

My laughter subsides and my fingers find their way into his thick waves. I'm staring at him, I can't help it and he notices. His chuckles come to slow rolling stop, his chest heaving as his breathing regulates.

My fingernails absentmindedly scrape against his scalp and I have to stop myself from chuckling as his eyes droop contently. This might be the most perfect moment of my life. His hands are slowly stroking along my thighs and I wonder if he can feel the goosebumps following in their tracks.

"Every girl at school would do anything to switch places with me right now." I muse, watching the the silky strands of his hair slip through my fingers.

His blearly eyes focus on mine and his eyebrows pull together in the slightest. Are eyebrows an odd choice for a favorite feature? Because his are definitely my favorite. They had some stiff competition but they won out in the end.

"There is no one I would rather be here with." He admits lowly, his voice even more scratchy than normal.

My fingers pause against his scalp. No one? Really? Not even Gen? I'm tempted to ask but something inside me stops me.

I can feel my cheeks warm and by the smirk plastered on Peter's face, I know I must be blushing.

The way he's looking at me warms my entire body. I don't know what to do so I do the only thing I keep thinking about.

I kiss him.

The faint stubble on his cheeks tickles my palms. He may be seventeen but he's definitely more man than boy. Does Peter see me as a girl or a woman? I definitely don't feel like a little girl when I'm with him.

As if to prove my point, I arch my back so my entire torso is pressed along the length of his. A groan escapes his parted mouth as his tongue licks at my bottom lip. I think it's my new favorite sound.

I've read and daydreamed about moments like these but never under these circumstances. It was usually a meadow not my living room and I tended to imagine a prince or a stable boy but now it's Peter.

I am straddling Peter Kavinsky's lap, his hands slipping under the hem of my spacious hoodie. He is consuming me, all of me. I've never felt this before. I feel wanted. Needed.

My hands tangle in his hair and I have to admit I'm addicted to the little sounds he makes when I tug on the thick strands.

His lips are wet and hot and burn a path from my mouth, across my cheek and down my neck as far an my sweatshirt will allow.

I'm in sensory overload. He invades my mouth, my nose, my ears and my mind. I can't get enough of him.

The feeling of his soft mouth sucking and licking my neck is almost enough to make me lose myself. My hips roll against his and his hands that are roaming under my tank top dig into the flesh just above my ass.

Peter holds me against him and I feel all of him. His lips at my neck, his hands at my back and him hard against where my body is aching for him.

I pull back and struggle to catch my breath. He looks up at me with those eyes. Bright yet sedated and twinkling with something that I never want to live without. I can barely plan my next move because the feeling of his hands rubbing soothing circles into my skin is making it hard to think.

Before I know what I'm doing, I raise both arms above my head. At first he looks confused and then he smiles at me. A smile so wide I can practically count all of his perfect teeth.

He lifts the sweatshirt over my head, leaving me in only a tank top and running shorts. I would feel awkward and exposed if it wasn't for the way his eyes are drinking me in.

With one of his arms still secured around my waist, he brings the other hand up to my sternum and his nimble fingers trace along my collarbone. The tenderness that his fingers possess make my insides tremble. I watch him as he watches his fingers and all I want to do is memorize every detail of his perfect face.

Too bad my brain short circuits before that can happen. Because Peter freaking Kavinsky leans forward so his mouth is against my chest. I shiver in his lap as his parted lips trace the path his fingers took.

"Are you mine, Lara Jean?" He breathes, so faintly I don't think I hear him so much as I feel the words against the edge of my tank top.

I feel myself coming undone; heart, body and mind. I hug his head to my chest and whisper "I'm yours" into his thick hair.

Peter pulls down the neckline of my tank down and his mouth is attracted to my chest like a magnet. His lips fasten to my skin, the scruff under his bottom lip brushes my nipple and it puckers in response.

My lungs are burning and it takes me a beat to realize it is because I'm not breathing. I force myself to take a deep breath, heaving my chest against Peter. My body is trembling from the suction of his lips but when I feel the sting of his teeth my hips involuntarily thrust against his.

He groans against my skin then releases it with a pop. He admires his masterpiece as his bright teeth dig into his swollen bottom lip. His fingers seek out the purplish blotch created by his mouth and brush my nipple in the process. The corner of his lips twitches when it stiffens into a hard peak and I know he did it on purpose.

Rational thought has no place in my head right now. I'm about three seconds away from ripping off my pants and telling Peter to put a baby inside of me. I won't do that... well, at least not all of it.

I find the hem of his long sleeve tee between our bodies and he smirks at me. That smirk I love, the smirk I've loved since the seventh grade. A smirk that is equal parts dorky and sexy. He lifts his arms above his head like a little boy who is ready to put on his pajamas.

We both chuckle as I work the material up his body. I'm undressing a boy for the first time. I always thought I would be a nervous wreck, shaking hands and all that. But I'm not. Not with Peter. He makes everything easy.

"You're hair is outta control." I shake my head as my laugh subsides and I attempt to tame his locks with my fingers.

He brings up his hand to tease my messy bun. "Speaking of hair", he rasps, a finger hooking in the hair tie and letting my mane cascade down my shoulders. I know the messy bun caused my hair to be uncharacteristically kinked and Peter's eyes are shining as he takes it in for the first time.

This is so intimate it makes my stomach clench. We are both practically naked. Hot skin against hot skin and only paper thin cotton covering our most eager areas.

My lips twitch and my tongue is begging me to let the words out. To let him know that the feelings that have been simmering for the last couple weeks are not a full on roaring boil. Do I love Peter Kavinsky? I can't... can I?

Nothing could ruin this moment, not even the declaration of love bubbling up my throat so I do the only thing I can think of.

I kiss his neck.

I kiss, suck and lick his neck and Peter makes a sound like some wild animal. Both of his hands tangle in my unruly hair, the feeling of his fingers against my scalp making my lips falter briefly against his skin.

This is something straight out of one of my books. Books that are now ruined because no words on a page can ever compare the slow urgency of Peter's fingers in my hair.

I release his skin with a few gentle pecks, placing my open lips against the faint pink mark as I exhale slowly. My hot breath fanning out against his wet skin.

Goosebumps spread across his neck like cracks in a thawing lake. I straighten in his lap and bring my hands to his cheeks. They're pink and warm against my palms.

Every time my brain tries to wrap around just how attractive he is it tends to short circuit. Like it is now.

So I do the only thing I can think to do. I press my mouth to his parted lips.

When I pull back, he brushes his thumb along my bottom lip as he purses his own. "Those lips are dangerous, Lara Jean."

A rush of confidence swells inside of me and I do something that even shocks myself. I take those lips

and wrap them around his thumb.

Peter's eyes widened before rolling back into his head completely, a deep groan escaped from his throat and I swear I feel him twitch between my legs.That excites me.

I want to have sex with Peter.

Maybe not right now. But it's definitely going to be all I think about until it happens.

In the meantime, I just want Peter. I grab his pinky and drag his hand lower, his wet thumb leaving a glistening trail in its wake.

"I'm not ready to have sex with you yet." I state boldly, my voice rougher than normal.

He blinks a couple times like his brain is misfiring. "O-okay", He rasps. "I wasn't..."

I cut him off with a kiss. "I know you weren't. I'm not ready to have sex but I do need to feel you." I explain slowly, bringing his hands between my legs where I sit in his lap.

I'm seriously considering throwing all this books away because nothing can compare to the way Peter's eyes go bright and my words. And I completely transcend into another dimension when his fingers slip beneath my shorts.

I hope you liked it! I may continue... haven't decided yet.