Hurricane

July 2005

“I’ve decided,” Pete said as we sat in his bedroom. “That tomorrow, you and I are going to have a sleepover.”

“A sleep over?” I asked. “How old are we now?”

“I know it seems childish,” Pete said. “But it will be the most adult sleep over you’ve ever been to.”

“How so?” I asked him, giving him a skeptical look.

“Well,” Pete said, preparing himself to tell me all of his plans. “You’d come here, and we’d have our regular day. Then you’d eat dinner with my family—my dad’s going to cook on the grill. Then since it is the Fourth of July tomorrow, we’d go enjoy some fireworks. Then a friend of mine is throwing a party. We’d hang there for a little bit and then head off to a hotel.”

“A…hotel?” I asked. Pete stared at me as if I was stupid before realizing his mistake.

“Oh…no!” Pete said. “The only reason the hotel is put into this whole thing is because my parents don’t like it when I come home drunk. They say I’m a bit noisy. So if I drink, I go to a hotel.”

“Oh,” I said. “Gotcha.”

“So, you up for it?” Pete asked. I thought for a moment.

“I think so,” I said. “I’ll just let my mom know.”

“Great,” said Pete, grinning at me. I smiled back.

-----------------------------------------------

I wasn’t sure how I felt about all of Pete’s plans for the night—but I wasn’t looking forward to the party. And unfortunately, before I knew it we were there. The day had gone by too quickly. The fireworks before this had been relaxing and I had enjoyed myself. But the party made me feel uncomfortable and I found myself clutching Pete’s arm as he pulled us through the crowd.

I didn’t know anyone, of course. And I wasn’t exactly a fan of large crowds. And the music was so loud; I could barely hear myself think.

And suddenly, Pete had a beer in his hand and he was offering me another one. I shook my head as he set the other bottle down and opened his.

An hour later and Pete was drunk. He had moved the arm I had been holding onto around my waist, holding me tightly to his side. In any other circumstance this probably would have had me feeling even more uncomfortable, but right now, I was glad that Pete wasn’t letting me go.

I decided for us that it was time to go and I dragged Pete out of the overcrowded house and to his SUV. He was silent as I helped him into the passenger seat.

“Can I have your keys Pete?” I asked. He stuck his hand in the pocket of his too tight jeans and pulled his keys out. I took them from him and then carefully closed his door. I watched as Pete leaned his head back and closed his eyes before making my way around to the driver’s side.

I got in and closed the door. I stuck the keys in the ignition and adjusted the seat a little. I looked over at Pete who still had his eyes closed.

“Where are we going?” I asked him.

“Hotel,” he muttered.

“I know,” I said. “Which one?”

He opened his eyes and dug in his pocket again before pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to me. I took it and read it, recognizing the hotel.

“You reserved a room?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. I started the vehicle and looked at Pete again.

“Put your seatbelt on,” I said. He rolled his eyes before reaching for it and pulling it across his body. When I heard the click of the seatbelt, I started towards the hotel. When we got there, I parked in the hotel’s parking lot and got out of the car. I helped Pete out and he instantly wrapped an arm around my waist again before we headed into the building. I left our bags in the SUV—I’d come back for them after.

After getting out room key, we got into the elevator. I leaned against the wall of the elevator, Pete staying next to me, his arm still wrapped around me. Pete’s arm slipped down slightly and I felt his hand stroking my upper thigh lightly. I shivered before grabbing Pete’s wrist and moving his arm back to my waist. He looked at me and grinned, letting out a laugh. I rolled my eyes and when the elevator came to a stop, I dragged Pete out of the elevator and to our room. I unlocked it quickly and found a light switch as we moved inside. The room lit up and I was glad to see that the room had two beds. I led Pete over to one of them and he sat down.

“I’m going to get our bags,” I said. “Don’t do anything.”

“I won’t,” he slurred, smiling at me. I rolled my eyes before leaving to get the bags. When I came back, Pete wasn’t on the bed anymore. Then I heard the shower going before I even had a chance to worry. I set Pete’s bag on his bed before setting mine on my bed and opening it. I dug around before I found my pajamas. I took off the shirt and pants I was wearing, before pulling on my pajama shirt. I realized that the shower wasn’t running anymore and when I looked at the door, I saw that it was open and Pete stood there in only a towel, looking at me. He swayed slightly and his eyes met mine. I looked away—his eyes were bloodshot and glossed over. I didn’t like seeing Pete like that.

“Your bag is on your bed,” I said. Pete stayed where he was for a moment before moving to the bed. I turned my back on him as I saw he was about to drop the towel. I quickly slipped on my pajama bottoms and stayed turned away from Pete for a few minutes. “Are you dressed?”

“Yeah,” Pete said. I turned around to find Pete in a pair of boxers and a t-shirt.

“Ready for bed?” I asked. Pete nodded his head before taking a step towards the side of the bed. He staggered, almost falling and I was at his side immediately. I wrapped an arm around him and helped him. He sat down and then moved so that he was laying down, his head on the pillow.

“Thank you,” he said, looking up at me. I smiled at him and started to move away. But then Pete’s hand was around my wrist and he was pulling me down onto the bed.

“Pete,” I said.

“Just lay with me for a few minutes,” he said. He moved over slightly and I sighed before lying down next to him. He had let go of my wrist and his hand was now resting on my hip. “Can we talk?”

“About what?” I asked.

“I want to know what happened,” Pete said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Pete,” I said.

“You do,” Pete said. “You just don’t want to talk about it.”

At first, I didn’t know what he was talking about—but now I knew.

“Pete,” I said. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why though?” he asked.

“Because I’m not ready,” I said. His hand was on my face and I realized that I had started to cry.

“I’m sorry,” Pete said quietly. He pulled me closer to him and I pressed my face to his chest. His hand started to move up and down my side, trying to comfort me. “We’ll talk when you’re ready, okay?”

I nodded my head as best as I could. I suddenly felt exhausted, and I didn’t bother to move from Pete’s bed. I fell asleep a few minutes later.