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chapter fourteen
pick me, choose me, love me.
december 10th

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I'M NOT A GOOD ROLLER SKATER by any means, but I'll put my all into it.

Peter's family and mine went out for dinner on the town instead of coming over for one. We also visited my dad in the rehab center, and to our surprise he remembered them. For a while after the stroke, he had no memory of past events or people, so it was relieving to see him regaining some of it back.

As sad as it was to leave my father there, we promised to show pictures, and Peter's family promised to visit him again. He was very happy to hear that, especially after Mr. S offered to visit him every day before he went off to work, which naturally, Dad obliged.

I was happy that we all came together today. The smiles on everyone's faces lit up the room, and the joy that filled my heart was so much to hold. But the smile on my dad's face was all I wanted to see, and I knew today things would be well for us.

Currently, Peter is teaching me how to roller skate backward. Our hands were locked firmly together, and our eyes were fixed on our feet. With smiles on our faces, we laughed as my attempts to skate backward progressively got worse and worse.

At some point, he realized his attempts to teach me were futile as neither of us could pay attention to the amount of laughing we had done.

I had fallen several times, but it was all fun. I'm good at skating normally, but this backward stuff is quite difficult.

"So I have a confession," Peter says as we return to normal skating. Our hands were still locked together, causing my hands to get a little sweaty and my face to flush.

"A confession? Did you murder someone?" I jokingly say, gripping his hand as we moved around a toddler and their parent, teaching them how to skate.

He chuckles at my joke before guiding us off the rink to a slightly secluded table in the corner of the rink. Our families were at the arcade and bowling side, waiting for a bowling alley to open up for us to go play, so we figured to skate in the meantime and get snacks.

My brother also went off on his own and mumbled about some friends possibly being here as well.

"If I did, would you help me get rid of the body?" he says with a half-serious tone.

For a second, I wondered if he meant it, until I saw the glint in his eye and started cackling, telling him I'd help him as long as he took care of me and hired a personal chef, which is essentially a sugar daddy, but I didn't mention that.

We took off our skates and turned them back into the lobby desk, picking up some food from the concession stand before settling back into our cozy corner. We talked for a while before I remembered what we originally stopped to talk about.

"Anyhow, what's the confession?" I eagerly ask while leaning forward on the table with my elbows.

I had a slushy in hand and one more slice of pizza in front of me. With a potentially juicy confession being told, I couldn't help but indulge myself in its mystery. I had a few ideas of what it could've been, though deep down I wanted him to confess his undying love to me.

Like Meredith said to McDreamy, "Pick me, choose me, love me," but the likelihood of that happening is quite slim.

"Well, I've got a crush..." he mutters out. His ears started turning red, and a nervous look formed on his face.

I've never seen him this nervous, even during the intramural games. I began feeling a bit of jealousy course through me but quickly masked it with curiosity. People have always confessed their feelings for someone to me before doing it, so I assumed this would be another of those moments.

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