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Peter Peter

Novel By: saoirse989

All Freya wants is a nice boyfriend. And what teenager could want anything less? With boys literally throwing themselves at her feet, Freya thinks grabbing one won't be a problem ... The thing is, Peter always seems to get in the way and she's exhausted many relationships with Peter as the main problem. Now Peter wants a relationship and wants Freya's help. What should she do? View table of contents...


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Submitted:Jul 19, 2011    Reads: 66    Comments: 7    Likes: 0   

Chapter 1

The club was hot and sticky with a party vibe clear in the air. It was a good night. I was enjoying myself. I'd bagged a very gorgeous-looking boy called Tommy. He had brown hair and baby-blue eyes. His strong hands around my waist were secure and I could feel his hot breath down my neck. After a few minutes I could feel him trying to turn me around, trying to make me face him. I complied. His chest was hard and muscled as I leaned in towards him. The heavy club beat was rippling through both of us. I could feel it pulse through his fingertips. His lips were soft and eager as I kissed him. His hands roamed free around my waist, my bum, my back. My hands tangled in his soft, curly brown hair, pulling him closer towards me. My blood started rushing. When we pulled away for air I saw him smiling at me, teeth slightly crooked and a dimple on one cheek. God he was gorgeous.

"Do you want a drink, Freya?" he asked me, leaning his forehead against mine. His voice was deep and rumbled from his chest. It made my knees weak. I nodded.

"Yes thanks," I returned, having to shout over the music.

He gave me one last heart-stopping smile and disappeared into the crowds. I made my way over to the seats and sat down, my feet starting to ache from the heels I was wearing. I checked my phone. 3 missed calls. Frowning, I checked who they were from. Aunt Macy. Uh-oh. The first thought that popped into my head was Peter. But I pushed it away quickly. It couldn't be him. No. Of course not. Maybe she'd just misplaced something and needed me to tell her where it was. Yes. That's what she must be calling for.

I looked around for Tommy, to tell him I was just going to take a call. He was nowhere in sight. My veins burned with anger. Why did I have to be interrupted? I tossed my hair over my shoulder, highly irritated. He'd seemed like a nice, genuine boy and after tonight I'd bet I wouldn't see him again in my life. Scowling, I put my shoes back on and made my way out of the club. I had come with my best friend Ally, but I'd seen her leave with a tall, dark, handsome boy half an hour ago and I knew I wouldn't see her again tonight. So I left by myself. When I got out I called Macy back.


"It's me."

"Oh thank goodness, Freya. I'm so sorry to call you, especially tonight. I knew you wanted to have a good night with Ally but I just had to call you I'm so sorry..."

"What is it, Macy?" I interrupted her. I couldn't stand her feeble excuses. I knew she was being apologetic and polite, and that I was being snappy and rude, but I was in no mood to beat around the bush. I was still looking over my shoulder for Tommy in case, by some miracle, he would be looking for me.

"Freya ... It's Peter - he's missing."

The blood in my veins suddenly became cold. My heart gave a small hiccup. My palms started to sweat. All thoughts of Tommy vanished from my head.

"Whe - when?" I stuttered.

"I only noticed ten minutes ago, but he could've been gone hours."

"Christ, Macy."

"I know I should have checked on him, I know I should have ... but he was just being so quiet and I thought he was asleep."

"And you're sure he's nowhere in the house?"

"He's not here, Freya."

I took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of my nose. My dangly earrings tickled the sides of my neck. I brushed them away.

"I'll go and look for him, Macy."

"Thank you, Freya. Thank you thank you, call me if you find him. I'll ring around his friends' houses, just to make sure. Oh thank you, Freya," Aunt Macy gushed on the other end.

"Okay. Bye." I disconnected.

Oh God. Peter was missing. Again.

"Have you seen him? He's around yea tall," I told the cashier, holding my hand up a little shorter than me. "He's got silvery-blonde hair and grey eyes..."

"No, sorry love, haven't seen him."

My heart sunk even further to the floor.

"I'll keep a look out for him though?" she offered, spreading her hands like she was showing me everything she had. He wasn't here. I nodded and forced a smile.

"Thank you. That'd be very helpful."

I left the shop and stood outside, not knowing where to go next. I'd tried the whole street - and this was a flipping long street. My feet were aching in my heels and I felt like giving up hope. This was London. Peter could be anywhere. I slid to the floor and held my head in my hands. Peter where are you? I tried to call to him through my thoughts. Sometimes he said he could hear me, like - actually hear what I was thinking, no matter how far away he was. Maybe he would be listening now. Please, Peter. I heard nothing back.

I sighed, got up, and pulled myself together. Sitting on the floor wasn't going to make him any easier to find. I went up to the first person I saw and asked him if he'd seen Peter.

"No I ain't seen him, sorry doll," he replied, shuffling along. I asked everyone in the street. Literally. People must've thought I was crazy. Maybe I was - maybe I was crazy to find Peter. It was well into the early morning of the hours when I finally gave up. I phoned Macy back finally, to tell her that I couldn't find Peter, with a heavy heart. I could tell she was almost in tears at the other end.

"Alright, Freya, thanks so much for looking. I'll see you at home. Bye."

I rubbed my eyes with exhaustion. I caught the bus back home and got to the front door. I felt in my bag for my keys in the dark. My spirits were low and I was so tired I could have fallen asleep right then. Peter hadn't been found and that was sure to make Macy super stressed and snappy tomorrow morning. It was sure to make me depressed, worried and sulky and I really couldn't handle that right now. What if Peter had been stolen? What if he'd had an accident somewhere no one knew about? Would he ever be found? I shook myself out. I was giving myself a headache just thinking about it. I unlocked the door and stepped into the hallway. All the lights were off. Macy must've gone to bed already. I traipsed upstairs, letting my feet drag. My body was tired and so was my mind, but the constant worrying voice at the back of my head refused to let me fall asleep right away. I just couldn't stop thinking about Peter. When I finally slept, he was even in my dreams. I could hear his footsteps echoing around me, elusive. Whenever I started after them, they just disappeared. "Peter!" I called out. There was absolutely no answer - not even the footsteps. He was gone. Would Peter really disappear in real life? I honestly couldn't say.


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