Dude... Are You Stalking Me?

Disclaimer: I don’t own My Chemical Romance. But who does? I’m pretty sure they own their music, as well as themselves. So I guess that means I don’t have to worry about some Armani-clad denizen of the “law” comin after me with a subpoena, now do I?

Chapter Nine: A Towel Show and Pie Crust Kisses

[Beep beep beep]

Rita looked at her cell with a strangely mixed expression. There was hope, anger, fear and just a bit of... apprehension?... thrown in, just for flavor. Her hand hovered just an inch away from it, unsure whether or not to act. It had been three days since the day at the mall, and she was glad it was winter break. If that meant she didn’t have to face Gerard every day, then so much the better.

[Beep beep beep]

“What the fuck am I so goddamn nervous about, anyway,” She snatched up the phone and screwed her eyes shut as she answered. “Hello...?”

“Thought I was Gee, didn’t you?”

Rita smiled at the sound of Frank’s voice and ran a hand though her abundant hair.

I’m a fuckin idiot, she thought and rolled her eyes.

“Hey to you too, Frankie boy.”

“Do you have any plans tonight?”

She raised her eyebrow, though she knew he couldn’t see her.

“Yeah, why?”

“Break ‘em. We, my dear, are goin out.”

Rita pushed her chair back from her desk and studied her completed sketch critically.

“Are we, now. And where’re we goin, babe?”

She could practically hear him grinning on the other line.

“You’ll see.” And he hung up. Rita sighed, but it was a relieved sigh. She placed her pencil on the desk beside her book, and closed the cover. She brushed some dust off the cover (Poison & Kerosine) and walked over to her closet to see what she would wear.
She was still in the shower when the doorbell rang. And as luck would have it, she was the only one home.

“Goddammit!” she swore through clenched teeth and hastily wrapped a towel around her dripping body as she ran to the door. Water was streaming from her freshly washed hair and small puddles formed where she stepped. In an effort to avoid flooding the apartment, Rita pulled her long hair over her shoulder and tried to dry the ends with her towel. Needless to say, it wasn’t working very well.

By the time she got to the door she was cold, frustrated, and annoyed. She pressed the buzzer to allow the visitor into the building and fumed silently as she counted off thirty seconds. Right on schedule, there was a knock at the door. Without even a pause to ask who it was she threw the door open, right arm carefully holding her towel in place, and glared.

Frank’s grinning face only brightened when he took in Rita’s sopping form. The burgundy towel she wore reached only to mid-thigh, allowing a liberal view of her long, tan legs. Water dripped freely over her entire body and beaded her well-toned shoulders. Her hair hung over her left shoulder and nearly to her shapely hips, partially obscuring her not-inconsiderable chest from view. Her face was fixed in an expression of obvious anger; gracefully arched brows knitted, deep eyes blazing and the small, sensuous pout that was her mouth pursed in a near-irresistible frown.

Needless to say, this greeting was a very inviting one for Frank Iero.

“Who the fuck shows up only half an hour after calling to make plans?!”

Rita glared down a little more than an inch into Frank’s amused hazel eyes and water continued to pool at her feet. He raised his eyebrows as he swept her form from head to toe and back again, grin firmly in place.

“If I knew this was how you answer the door, I’d be here all the fuckin time!”

Rita blinked. It looked like a small thing, but it was actually an enormous effort to contain her laughter. It was a curse as well as a gift sometimes, having such a good sense of humor. She managed to keep the laughter from her face, but her eyes gave it away.

“Just get in the goddamn house,” She moved aside and managed to keep the smirk from her face until after Frank passed into the livingroom. She followed him, still dripping, and paused at the junction between the kitchen and her bedroom.

Frank had already settled on the couch and was flipping through the channels on the T.V.

“Alright, I’m gonna go get dressed and try to dry my hair. You, stay. Stay!”

Rita backed out of the room, index finger pointed at Frank, who was staring at her as if he expected wings to explode from her head at any moment. Although it was an effort, she managed to contain her laughter until her door was closed firmly behind her.

When she finally emerged nearly forty minutes later she was fully dressed in a plain black halter top, matching black hoodie, torn low-rise blue jeans and her old black Converses. She wore a black belt, each notch accented with a steel hoop, and her standard wristband. Her hair wasn’t completely dry, so she’d doubled it at mid-back. The curls fell in a playful tail to bounce as she walked.

Frank glanced over when Rita sauntered into the room. He’d sunk down on the couch so that he was nearly laying on it. His legs were splayed out in front of him, and he seemed to be on the verge of nodding off. He exhaled loudly and pulled himself up.

“Finally! What the fuck’s up with girls and taking hours to get dressed?!”

Rita rolled her eyes and grabbed her coat off an armchair.

“Maybe next time you’ll wait a reasonable amount of time before leaning on my bell for three minutes.”

Frank grinned and stood. Rita noticed they were dressed a lot alike. He was wearing a black hoodie over a white t-shirt with “I’d Fuck In New York City” in black across the chest, though he’d removed his coat, and worn, torn tight blue jeans with what Rita thought were Vans on his feet.

“Yeah, but then how’d I get to see that sick tattoo on your shoulder?”

She blinked.

“When did you see my tattoo?”

His grin only widened. And it clicked.

“You... watched me walk away?!”

He shrugged.

“Shit, a free show’s a free show.”

She rolled her eyes and swatted him with her coat.

“Grab your coat and let’s get going. Pervert,”

But she was smiling, something Frank didn’t overlook.

***

“No no nononono.... aw, damn!” Rita laughed and shook her head philosophically as she shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth. “See, that’s what happens when you take a shower without locking the door! I told your ass not to!” She yelled at the screen as the well-endowed ‘heroine’ was being butchered by the hook-wielding psycho.

Next to her, Frank booed and threw a handful of his own heavily-buttered popcorn at the screen. Of course, it fell far short to hit a couple just a few rows in front of them. They turned to complain, but upon seeing who’d thrown it hastily turned back to the screen.

“Come on, if you’re gonna kill her at least show her ass or something!”

They were at a little theater in the Village that was showing a revival of several obscure black-and-white horror movies, most flaunting B-movie status. But there were a few good ones, including the original Psycho, which was coming up as the grand finale.

Rita tossed a Milk Dud at Frank’s head and laughed when he turned and caught it between his teeth.

“If you wanted porno, there’s a theater down the block.”

He grinned suggestively and leaned in toward her.

“Or, I could always drop by your place, an-- ow!” He rubbed his assaulted shoulder and pouted. Rita smiled innocently and batted her eyelashes. Soon the movie was over, and the duo quieted down when the reels were changed to an actual horror movie.

Frank reached into his tub, only for his knuckles to hit salt, grease and cardboard. There were a few un-popped kernels in there, but nothing edible. He glanced at the screen to see the movie had already started. If he went for more now, he’d miss half the damn movie; those concession stand guys were slower than frozen shit.

He was still debating whether or not to make a popcorn run when Rita reached over and placed her own half-full tub into his empty one. He glanced over at her and she smiled. For the rest of the night, Frank spent very little time watching the screen. His eyes were on his friend as she laughed, smiled and occasionally jumped when the music prompted. Sometimes she would lean her head on his shoulder, and he’d inhale the sweet scent of her hair. A few times they both reached into the tub and their knuckles met. It was a long night for Frank before the movie ended.

“Man, after seeing that for the first time since forever, I gotta say it.” Rita buttoned her coat as they exited the theater and looked over at her friend. “All those sequels fuckin suck.”

Frank laughed, glad the uncomfortably-comfortable atmosphere from the dark theater was behind him. He zipped up his coat and pulled up his hood against the cold.

“I know. It’s like with ‘Nightmare on Elm Street,’ ain’t no comparison with the original.”

Rita shivered a little despite her thick coat, then saw that Frank’s was much thinner than hers. If she was cold, he must be freezing. She linked her arm through his and made sure they were close as possible as they walked.

“I’m hungry.”

Frank laughed, successfully covering his surprise. A shiver ran down his spine that had nothing to do with the temperature.

“You just ate like, two pounds of popcorn and four boxes of candy. And you’re hungry?”

She shrugged, and he felt the movement against his body.

“That’s not food, it’s junk. Besides, you ate some of my popcorn too.”

“It is food, that’s why they call it ‘junk food.’”

“Yeah, ‘junk’ being the operative word. Anyway, I need real food. And coffee.”

She bumped him playfully with her hip and giggled when he stumbled a little. He sighed and a large cloud of frozen breath drifted up toward the overcast sky.

“Fine. But I don’t know what’s gonna be open at nearly twelve thirty, probably some diner that drops the burgers and serves coffee that tastes like someone already drank it.”

Rita laughed and they walked in silence for a few minutes. It stared to snow, and she watched as the small flakes drifted silently to the pavement. It was sticking, and she smiled at the possibility of a white Christmas.

This... this is nice, she thought and glanced at Frank out of the corner of her eye.

“Thanks for dragging me out tonight,” It was said softly, barely above a whisper, but she knew Frank heard her.

“Thanks for answering the door in a towel.”

Rita rolled her eyes and bumped him again, a little harder this time. He stumbled again, but caught himself before he could trip. He glared at her, and she stuck her tongue out at him. Before she knew what was happening, Frank’s head darted forward and she had to jerk her head backwards quickly to avoid a head-butt. When she heard his teeth click together just an inch in front of her, her eyes widened.

“Did you just try to bite my tongue?!” she asked dubiously, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, you just tried to throw me into the street,”

“I did not!” Rita laughed, and Frank shrugged.

“Whatever,” he returned in a bored tone and returned his gaze to the street before him. Rita pursed her lips and bumped him yet again, but he was ready this time. He bumped back and she was the one to stumble. They laughed together and walked the rest of the way to an all-night diner in companionable silence.

***

“Aw, you gotta taste this,” Rita held her fork out to Frank and waited for him to accept the glob of peach pie on its tip. He obliged, and as soon as it touched his tongue his eyes screwed shut.

“Aw, shit!” He shook his head vigorously and reached for a napkin. After he spit the offending substance into the paper, he then proceeded to wipe his tongue dry. “What th-- that was disgusting!” He grabbed his coffee cup and swished the dark, bitter liquid around his mouth before swallowing. “How the fuck can you be eating that?!”

She shrugged and sipped her own coffee.

“I had to make sure it was really that bad, and I wasn’t just imagining it.”

Frank glared at her before staring dubiously down at his own cherry pie. He poked at it distrustfully with his fork a few times, and Rita laughed.

“The cherry’s fine, babe. I already tasted it.” He looked as if he didn’t quite believe her, so she reached over and stole a glob with her fork. She popped it in her mouth and chewed theatrically. “See? Fine.” Satisfied, he proceeded to demolish it.

Upon arriving at the diner, Rita had decided she needed to conduct a Pie Sampling Session. And so, had ordered a slice of every pie on the menu. When Frank had stared at her as if he’d just witnessed a grisly murder, she’d laughed and explained that every time she visited a diner she’d never been to before, she did this (usually with a friend) and then rated the quality of the pie. So far, this diner was failing miserably.

While Rita worked, she and Frank talked. Not about anything in particular, just whatever came to mind. After a particularly long silence, she decided to venture a question that had been on her mind for the past few weeks.

“Why is it you never seem to have a girlfriend? I mean, I’ve seen you with enough girls, but they never last long.”

He looked up at her curiously and she shrugged. After a moment and a grimace regarding the blueberry pie, he offered a reply.

“I don’t know, I guess I just haven’t found a girl I like.”

Rita raised her eyebrow and moved on to the cocoanut custard.

“You mean, ‘like that way’ right?”

Frank smiled and stole a piece of the banana cream pie.

“Nope.” He bit into the pie and his eyes widened and his throat worked convulsively. Rita thought he would either throw up or pass out when he pointed at the afore mentioned pie with his fork. “That... is really bad,” he gasped out finally and pushed the offending plate away from him.

Rita chuckled and poked at the key lime.

“Are you telling me you’ve never had a meaningful relationship before?”

He thought for a while, then looked directly into her deep brown eyes.

“Define ‘meaningful,’”

Rita threw a piece of crust at his head, which he dodged gracefully. He laughed as she rolled her eyes and shook her head in disgusted humor.

After all the pies had been tested (and only three found edible), Rita and Frank sat silently watching the snow fall outside the smudged diner window. It was a content silence, and neither felt the need to break it. Frank looked over at his friend and studied her slightly-smiling face carefully. As his hazel eyes caressed each curve, flowed over the smooth surface of her skin, a small smile lit his face.

“Hey,”

Rita looked over at him, eyebrows raised in query.

“You have something on your face.”

She began to brush at her face randomly, every so often looking to Frank for confirmation on whether she’d gotten whatever it was. After a moment he sighed and leaned forward.

“Here, let me.”

And before she had a chance to react, Frank had kissed Rita full on the mouth. That in itself wasn’t so surprising. The fact that would repeat in her mind over and over for the next few weeks was this: she was kissing him back.

After a few seconds, Rita closed her eyes and leaned into the kiss. Frank took her cue and ran his tongue over her bottom lip, and she then parted her lips to allow him entry. An unexpected shiver tickled her spine at the sensation of his tongue massaging hers, and Frank’s hand came up to caress her cheek before it slid into her hair.

Perhaps two minutes passed before they parted. Frank pulled back with a satisfied smile while Rita sat with a slightly dazed expression that dulled her features. She took a deep breath and licked her lips.

He tried the apple last, she thought dumbly, then shook her head in an effort to clear her mind. When she looked up again, she noted Frank’s smug smile.

“You do realize that now, I’ll have to kill you,”

Frank’s smile cracked into a grin and he shrugged.

“It was a calculated risk.”

She smiled slightly and shook her head. Frank tilted his head quizzically.

“What?”

Her smile widened.

“I don’t know why I expected your tongue to be pierced.”

He wiggled his eyebrows and his grin widened.

“Maybe it was wishful thinking,”

They laughed and flagged down their waitress, a tired-looking blond wearing too much eye makeup. They split the check and made a solemn vow never to visit that diner again.

On the walk back to where they’d left the car, Rita took the time to wonder why Frank had kissed her. It was obvious he was attracted to her, he’d hit on her when they met, after all. But even though he flirted with her when they were hanging out, he’d never made a move. Until now. It couldn’t be possible... that he liked her?

“Hey, girl. You just gonna stand there all night?”

Frank’s voice snapped her out of her reverie, and she noticed they were standing in front of the car. Frank was holding the passenger’s door open for her and she climbed in after a moment. He climbed in the driver’s side and started the engine. The ride back to Brooklyn was mostly silent, the only sounds the low murmur of the car radio playing old Christmas music and the gentle swish of the windshield wipers. The snow was falling quickly now in large, fluffy flakes. Rita’s eyes became heavy as she watched them fall, and she dozed with her head resting lightly on Frank’s shoulder.

The next thing she knew, she was being shaken gently.

“Rita. Come on girl, we’re here,”

Her eyes opened blearily and she found the car was parked in front of her building. She looked sleepily at her friend who smiled gently.

“Come on, I’ll walk you inside.”

After he made sure the car was locked, Frank led his half-dead friend into her building and into the elevator. When the doors opened on the fourth floor, she was a bit more awake and able to unlock the door to her apartment without any prompting. Frank was a bit puzzled when she didn’t go inside. Rita seemed to be debating something, and after a moment she turned to look him in the eye.

“It’s past three in the morning. I know you’re tired, so don’t argue okay?” Confused, he merely nodded. “Come in. And don’t get any ideas, you perverted bastard,” She laughed when he began to smile. “You’re sleeping in the guest room. And don’t worry about my parents, they’re outta town until next week.”

Frank continued to smile, though it was a of a different breed now.

“Okay.”

He followed her into the apartment and closed the door behind him.

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