The first-to-second period rush flooded the hall outside history with its usual adolescent bluster. Peter couldn’t help but shoot a final habitual glance through the strands of Lisa’s red hair, past her shoulder, and back into Mr. Browning’s classroom. He could just make out Kimmy puffing up her lower lip in her usual protest of still not joining the exclusive list of people in the school allowed to carry Peter by hand. Aside from this, though, neither Sharon nor Amy even seemed the least bit preoccupied with firing their usual feminine death-glares after him.

                It was a pretty welcome change of pace that had developed over these past two months, really. Peter decided his ultimate and probably unattainable goal was to be virtually ignored by everyone except his friends by year’s end. Plus, he’d just reached one of his favorite parts of the day, where Lisa was actually ordained by the school board and his mother to spend a few minutes of relative privacy with him on the journey to biology.

                The girl’s thumb curled up over Peter’s lap, the pad of her finger resting comfortably on his knee. He patted the inviting digit, hugging it closer to his stomach as his petite special-case transporter began their meandering stroll.

                “Comfy?” she asked brightly. It was becoming a cute instinct of hers, Peter realized, to ask if he was content in her hand. He was fairly certain he’d never had anything but high praise to offer in response, yet she continued to check in regardless.

                “Mmm, I don’t know about that,” he sighed.

                “What?” she balked quietly.

                “I mean, your fingers don’t even have cup holders. What kind of luxury ride is this?”

                Her green eyes glowed, laughing silently.

                “And seriously? Not a single speaker anywhere on here? How am I supposed to crank the tunes?” he continued.

                “Is this how you judge when you’re buying a car, too?” Lisa answered in an equally dry tone, playing along. She turned a corner of the hallway, passing into a wider tile thoroughfare and easily navigating between the shuffling bodies while keeping absolute attention on the subject in her palm.

                “Maybe! I like to know that whatever I’m riding in is treating me like the king I am,” Peter explained. “Not that I can drive, obviously…”

                “So is my hand a car or a throne now? I’m losing track.”

                “Can’t it be both?”

                “I guess if you’re gonna make a big fuss about it, your majesty.” Lisa’s finger rose, prodding her rider in the hip and tickling his ribs as they reached a patch of hallway without any immediate audience.

                “The king will not be… addressed this way!” Peter said, finding it harder to keep up his acting as the chortles broke through his protests. He feigned fighting back against his girlfriend’s finger, instead only hugging it closer as her poking gave way to an embrace against the heel of her hand.

                “Oh yeah? Well, I’m doing a… a… what’s the word? Coup.”

                “I guess somebody’s been paying attention in history…” Peter commented, at last surrendering completely to Lisa’s cuddly fingertips, laying back in her hand as she gently pinched at his sides. Her opposite hand shielded its occupant from outside view, just in case their PG-rated PDA was misinterpreted.

                “Well, that somebody wants a good grade,” she retorted with a smirk. At last her fingers gave up on their ticklish assault, pulling back into a more conservative stance. They turned the final corner in the hallway on the way to bio. A pair of squealing juniors sprinted through past the stragglers, hardly bothering to alert passerby before shoving past, but Lisa ably ducked to the side without missing a beat.

                “Hey, I don’t have to worry about that. I have you. I’ll just copy off you during the final exam,” Peter said.

                “Oh, really? How are you going to do that from all the way on the other side of the room?”

                “Ever hear of Morse code?”

                “Yeah… why, do you know it?”

                “No, I was hoping you did so you could teach me and I can cheat off you.”

                For another moment Peter gazed up at Lisa’s bowed countenance from the cradle of her palm, and then the pair burst into fresh laughter together. The shorter of the two hugged himself back into the girl’s fingers, his chest rattling with the induced slap-happiness. The redhead tossed her hair back as she snickered, creasing her bangs out of the way of her emerald irises as she scanned the hallway’s horizon for their biology classroom a mere stone’s throw away.  Her pace deliberately slowed as she darted into an empty alcove near the janitorial closet, giving them a place of sanctuary.

                Mrs. Baker was never on time, anyway.

                “How do you feel?” she questioned softly once the miniature riot in her hand had worn off. “About tonight, I mean.”

                “Oh! Uh, pretty good, I think. You know, maybe a little… jittery, but that’s gotta be normal, right?”

                “Of course it is,” she said, smiling warmly and cocking her head. “But you seem like you’re okay in front of a crowd.”

                “I hope so. That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway. But this crowd’s going to be a lot of people. Every parent and grandparent of every last person in the cast. That’s a tough audience to crack!”

                “It’ll be okay.” Lisa’s thumb rose again, reasserting itself into Peter’s lap, where he snuggled it in close again. “Just look for me if you get nervous tonight and say the lines to me.”

                “Well, that sounds great for tonight, but what about tomorrow?” Peter snarked.

                “Oh, I’ll be there tomorrow night too.”

                “Really?” The boy felt his cheeks glow like bashful cherries.

                “Of course I will, you silly. I’d go three times if there was a third show.”

                “Right. You could probably do the play yourself by that point. It’s basically ninety-percent fairy tale puns,” Peter said, stroking the firm finger as it draped over his legs. “T-Thanks, though. It’ll… be a little easier, you know. To see you there.”

                “Anytime,” she said with a wink. Her chin descended with some of its normal adorable hesitance, but her lips quickly puckered to plant a wet one on the boy’s forehead, which also ended up mopping up most of his hair. “Sorry about that…”

                “Always come prepared,” Peter joked, scrounging into his backpack and procuring a tiny plastic comb with tines so thin they may as well have constituted normal hairs themselves.

                Lisa giggled at his triumphant display, brushed another cascading lock out of her view, and dipped in again. This time Peter reciprocated, leaning upward into the looming pink lips and smooching her back as hard as he could manage. He wrapped his tiny fingers into the cusp of her mouth, squeezing her delicate flesh as it undulated.

                Out of the corner of his eye, obscured by the flowing strands of red that hung over Lisa’s shoulder, Peter could make out a flash of movement in the entrance to the alcove, slight and sudden. Before he had a chance to finish blinking, the form was gone, but he’d seen enough to surmise it was a girl, probably just a little taller than Lisa. Not that that was a hard standard to come by.

                “I always do,” Lisa taunted in whisper, running her tongue along the inside of her cheek.

                “I guess you do,” Peter blushed. Languishing in the heat of her exhalations washing over him almost made it easy to forget they’d probably just been caught by someone. He forced his discerning glance away from the archway and back up to his significant other’s face.

                What was he worried about? It wasn’t like they were committing a crime.

                “Is something wrong?” Lisa questioned with abrupt concern in her green eyes, having detected Peter’s minimal unease immediately. Her fingers rose, swabbing along her moistened lips. “I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to be out of line, I should’ve asked first if you wanted t-”

                “No. No, no, no,” Peter fired back. He leaned down, laying down a line of kisses up Lisa’s thumb from her nailbed to her knuckle. “It’s nothing. I like when you do that.”

                “Okay, then,” she said with a steady nod, apparently reassured. “Noted.”

                “Maybe we should get to class, though, before th-”

                The sound of the overhead bell signaling the start of second period drowned out Peter’s voice. He stifled a laugh, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow in his possible snidest appearance as he reclined back on Lisa’s fingers.

                “All right, Mr. Academic, whatever you say,” she said. “I mean, Mr. Academic, Your Highness.”

                “Now that’s more like it,” Peter chided. The pair serenaded themselves with lingering chuckles as they passed beneath the alcove fluorescents to rejoin the hall.