Finally Moving

A grip on my shoulder rattled me. I sucked cold air into my lungs and looked up. "Can we go yet?"

He sighed. "No, we have a few more songs to go. Patrick's stalling right now so I could come check on you."

"Pete!" I whined, "Why'd you even drag me here? It's cold," I said, pouting.

His mouth twitched toward a frown. "I thought you'd enjoy seeing me play," he mumbled, obviously wounded.

I frowned back at his expression, it twisting my heart. "Just go play," I said as I rubbed my mittened hands together. "I'll watch."

He went back on stage and started strumming a few chords, Joe following his lead with the first riff of the song. Patrick sang into the microphone, his voice flowing through the speakers of the outdoor venue. I smiled as the song increased in energy, as well as the four boys. Andy banged on his drums as fierce as he could. His glasses fell down the bridge of his nose a bit, but he was too into the music to notice.

Patrick started in on the chorus and Pete brought his lips to the microphone to sing along with Patrick. Where is your boy tonight? I hope he is a gentleman. Maybe he won't find out what I know, you were the last good thing about this part of town.

He sang those words looking straight into my eyes with a smirk on his face the whole time.

They finished the song and Patrick thanked the audience for being so great. They cheered and then Pete put his lips to the microphone, yelling something I couldn't comprehend, but the crowd did, and cheered back a reply. He smiled, with his eyes glittering. He, Joe, and Patrick took hold of their guitars and walked off the stage, Andy came from behind his drum set and quickly followed them.

Pete pulled me into his arms, in response I snaked my own arms around his neck. "Did you like the show?" he whispered into my ear, his breathe tickling my skin.

I smiled, nuzzling my face into his neck. "You all were amazing." He kissed my forehead.

"Ew, get off each other and let's go get something to eat," jeered Patrick.

Pete pulled himself away from me and shook his head, smiling. "Let me go put up my bass," he said. "Come on, Quinn," he called. I started going to him, but Patrick stopped me.

"Quinn, I want to thank you for what you've done."

"What?" I asked shortly, being completely confused.

"For making Pete happy. He was... down a lot lately, before you," Patrick confessed.

My heart clenched and a lump rose in my throat, but I swallowed it away. "I--"

"Quinn! You coming?" Pete yelled from the door.

"I gotta go," I said, then rushed to Pete and grabbed his hand. "Let's go."

He swung our joined hands back and forth. "Where do you wanna go to eat?" he asked me.

I shrugged. "It doesn't much matter to me, ask Joe."

As if on cue, Joe yelled across the parking lot. "Taco Bell!"

I smiled. "Guess we're going to Taco Bell," I said to Pete as we climbed into his car.

I snuggled into Pete, we sat across from Joe, Andy, and Patrick in a speckled booth. I picked at my no-meat Nachos Bell Grande. The little bell tingled, signaling that someone came into the restaurant. I turned to see who it was out of habit. Seeing who it was, I turned around quickly, hoping he hadn't seen me, but it was too late.

"Quinn?" he loudly slurred through the restaurant. Pete, Andy, Joe, and Patrick all looked up at him. I just kept my head down. "Baby, I thought you were sick." His voice was getting closer.

Oh, shit.

"Who are they?" he slurred, his sagging eyes looking at me like a pathetic hound dog.

I sighed as much as my shallow breathing would allow. "Michael, you should leave; you're drunk." Anger flickered in his eyes, confusion flickered in Pete's.

"No!" Michael said. "I'm not leaving here without my girlfriend," he yelled at me.

Pete turned to me, finally saying something. "What the fuck, Quinn?" I didn't know if I liked this or silence better.

"I--," I stuttered, "I was going to tell you sooner Pete, I swear."

He glared at me like no one else was around. "You have a boyfriend," he whispered, the tone of it worse than if he had screamed at me.

I gulped and nodded, tears pooling in my eyes. Pete stood up abruptly from the speckled booth.

"You should leave."

Hot tears started pouring out of my eyes. "Pete, please," I whispered, placing a hand on his arm, He jerked his arm away like my hand was hot iron.

"Leave."

I swallowed the lump out of my throat, the tears still falling silently down my cheeks. I steered Michael out of the restaurant and to his car, with him asking questions the whole way. "Keys," I commanded, holding out my hand and ignoring his drunken blubbering. He dropped them into my palm with a 'clink'.

I helped Michael climb into the car then walked around the the driver's side; climbing in myself and slamming the door. Starting the car, I jerked it into reverse and pulled out of the parking place. I swear, I never will forget the look on Pete's face as I left the parking lot and began down the highway, out of his life. His forehead was leaning against the large front window, his breathe creating a circle of fog. The look in his eyes was... and to this day still is, crippling.

My phone vibrated in my hoodie pocket it so I pulled it out and flipped it open. The pixilated screen read one new text message; it was from Pete. I pressed the 'okay' button then read the one word text message. It said, in all lowercased letters, 'whore'. I burst out sobbing at the sight of the word, it being the straw that broke the camel's back. I cried until I couldn't see through the tears, then pulled over to the shoulder of the highway and folded my arms across the steering wheel, putting my head in the croon of my elbow and sobbed painful, wracking sobs. Michael tried to comfort me as best he could, him being too drunk to fully realize the situation just yet. He would try to pat my shoulder softy every few minutes, and with every try I would sharply shrug off his hand.