Scenario: Peter meeting his girlfriend's parents soon after they start dating?
OK, so he would be the cutest, most awkward gentleman. He would spend all day at school that Friday talking about it, asking questions that are kind of ridiculous; you answer patiently anyways, gentle smile on your face because you know he’s just super anxious.
“What if your mom wants a hug and I go in the wrong way and we bump heads?” He was holding his head in his hands, fingers woven through his curls in tight clumps, leg bouncing a million miles an hour, bumping into your knee as he fidgeted in his seat.
“Oh, she’ll definitely want a hug. She’s a hugger,” you said between mouthfuls.
“Well does she go to the right or the left when she hugs? I need to know. I want to be prepared.” You did your best to hide your smile.
“Peter, you give the best hugs, you’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re probably right,” bottoms of white teeth peeking out from beneath his lip as he worries at a chapped and slightly plumped lower one, funny brows pinching together as his mind raced. His thoughts were everywhere but on the tray of untouched food in front of him, sounds of the busy cafeteria lost on deafened ears; ears that were already running conversations across drums.
You forked at wrinkly peas and soggy carrots, vegetables almost making it to your mouth before bouncing waves whipped and crashed against his forehead as he turned to you abruptly, “Your dad, when I shake his hand, do I use both hands or just the one?”
Setting your fork back down on your tray, tender smile on your face and a twinkle in your eye; your hand reached for a set of sweaty fingers, “Peter, they’re going to love you. I do, so they will, too.”
His tense eyes softened and a smile finally found its way to his face as he released the last of his anxiety in a quiet puff of air, “You love me because I’m so handsome and charming, right?”
“More like awkwardly endearing, but sure, Peter.”
“Oh come on,” and he was pointing at his face, head tilted, angling his jaw at you in just the way he knew you liked, his messy brows raised and a goofy smirk on his lips, “I’m totally charming,” toffee waves falling over his pale forehead in that way that made your heart skip and that accentuated the amber honey of his bright eyes, the stupid, slightly wrinkled t-shirt, with the stupid, completely ironic phrase: “Forget lab safety, I want superpowers,” scrolled over his chest, and you had to smile because he was right.
Peter was charming in his own Peter sort of way.
“Ok, fine, you’re maybe a little bit charming,” golden knuckles pumping the air in victory.
“I’ll take what I can get.”