Four Years

March 20th, 2009.

Paparazzi stood at the end of the driveway as Pete and I opened the gates to leave, waiting for us to go somewhere. Honestly, this was getting real old, real fast. I hated how people followed us when we were just going to run errands or do unimportant shit like that. Like, the fuck? Could we shop in peace, please?

But, I guess it's what I get for falling in love with Pete Wentz.

"Pete, I'm half tempted to run one of them over," I sighed, looking in the rear view mirror to avoid the annoying bee-like people.

"Don't do it," He replied, looking through his phone. He was always on that damn thing. I always wondered what he was doing. How could someone be on the phone practically all fucking hours of the day?

I groaned as one annoying douche snapped a picture of me giving Pete a dirty look. They always did this. They twisted everything around to portray me as an evil, gold digger. Like, one time, Pete tripped while we were walking and I started laughing so hard. He would've done the same thing if it happened to me. It's just how we were. But, no, the paparazzi had to make me look like I was a bitch. I helped him up, but no one got that on film. Funny.

Another downfall of always being in the spotlight - I was everywhere. Meaning, my past could easily pick up a magazine and see me and Pete at the beach. He would know I ran away to live with Patrick and the guys in Chicago. And, when he wouldn't see a child with us, he would get suspicious. He would think I gave Josh up. But, of course, that's not what happened.

"Pete! Stop being famous!" I groaned as I almost hit someone.

He looked up from his phone and rolled down his window, "Get the fuck out of here!" He shouted.

When I was finally out of the driveway, I zoomed off down the street, happy to be away from those stupid lurkers.

"Wait, did you close the gate?" I asked as we came to a stop at a red light.

He stared at me, "Oh."

For the thousandth time that day, I groaned loudly. I slammed my head onto the steering wheel, causing the horn to sound loudly into the busy LA traffic.

"Hemmy's there. So is Brendon. He'll fight them off," He laughed.

"Pete..."

"Green light, go!" He shouted, staring at the lights. I pressed my foot to the gas and sped off down the street. "Whoa, slow down, babe."

"You wanna drive?" I smirked, staring straight ahead at the street. "Where the fuck am I going, again?"

"...Starbucks," He said with a straight face. I think he knew the stress was getting to me. "Rach! Chill the fuck out. You don't look like you did when I first met you. You've got your nose pierced, you've got tattoos. You're twenty one, not seventeen. You've changed. They won't realize it's you."

"Baby, seasons change, but people don't," I said, using his own lyrics against him.

"The press doesn't even know your fucking name, so it's not like it'll be all like, 'Rachel Woods and Pete Wentz on beach! Rachel wearing ring!'" He said, trying to calm me down.

"But, Pete, I don't have a ring," I said, trying to hold back my smile. "Are you trying to imply something?"

"No," He said quickly.

He was totally trying to imply something. Maybe he was gonna propose to me! Finally! I'd been waiting since, well, forever. Pete and I had been dating for four years now. He'd stuck with me through thick and thin, and I'd done the same. Well, we'd kinda stuck it out. We had a broken up a couple times, but we always came back to each other.

I mean, we acted like a married couple...fought a lot, had a shit ton of make-up sex...

It's like we were already married. All I needed was his last name.

Rachel Marie Wentz.

I liked the sound of that...

"Rae! Turn right!" Pete yelled, snapping me out of my daydream. I quickly took a sharp turn right and pulled into a small parking lot about a couple stores away from Starbucks. That's what I hated about the city. You had to park far away from the one store you wanted to go in.

I sighed and cut the engine. As soon as we stepped out of the car, people would be all over Pete.

Hopefully I would be wrong this time. I just wanted to get a Double Chocolaty Chip Frappucinno in peace.

As we walked to the small café, Pete grabbed my hand and interlaced his fingers with mine, bringing it up to his lips and kissing it gently.

I smiled the cute little gesture. Pete was really sweet sometimes.

Once again, paparazzi stormed the sidewalk. These people were like vultures lurking for dead meat. We were the dead meat to these vultures.

"Pete! What's your girlfriends name?" One shouted.

"None of your business," He simply replied. I smiled at that. He was trying to protect me. So sweet.

We walked into Starbucks as the paparazzi stopped following us. They never followed us inside of a store, thank goodness.

I heard someone gasp, then start coughing as soon as Pete and I entered the store.

3. 2. 1...

"Pete!" A high pitched, overly annoying voice squealed. He took a deep breath in before turning around to the girl, who now had a huge grin planted across her face. "Oh my goodness, can I, like, have your autograph, or something?"

I rolled my eyes and dug around my purse, trying to find a sharpie. I always carried one, in case stuff like this happens. I handed the black sharpie to him as the girl held out her arm for him to sign.

He scribbled his signature on it before hugging her. It was nice to see that people liked his music. Lately, they had been getting a shit ton of hate from people. It was sad because they were such a great band, and they didn't deserve any hate they got. None of it was justified.

"Babe, move up," Pete whispered in my ear, causing me to snap back to reality.

"Can you order for me?" I asked, batting my eyelashes and giving him the puppy dog look. He always fell for it. This day was no different.

I smiled and pecked him on the cheek, stepping out of the line. I stood to the side, watching as the paparazzi outside looked in on us. They were probably all thinking the same thing - what a whore. I was no whore. I just wanted Pete to order for me because I didn't feel like it.

I took out my phone and checked to see if I had any new messages. I had three.

From: Bden
there's someone at the house for you.
Mar 20, 11:37 am

From: Jess
um, excuse me, we need to go shopping before this tour.
Mar 20, 11:43 am

And finally - From: Bden
seriously, when are you coming home?
Mar 20, 11:46 am

I rolled my eyes and replied to them.

To: Bden
bren, we just left the house. why are you asking when we're coming back? who the fuck would be at the house?
Sent: Mar 20th, 11:52 am

To: Jess
jess! yes, please! i have no idea what's going with this tour, but that's completely okay. i'm up for shoppin wit chu any day ;D

Yes, it was true. I had no idea about this tour. Pete decided to keep everything hush hush. All I knew was the name - Believers Never Die: Part Deux. Everything else was totally secret. I wasn't even aloud to search it online. Pete said it'd be a huge surprise for me. Not knowing who I'd be spending life with for two whole months was killing me. I needed to know!

I stared down at my phone, wanting a new text. It lit up in my hand. I felt like Jesus!

From: Jess
how about we go at 2? tour starts next week and i wanna get shopping and packing over with.
Mar 20, 11:55 am

"Babe, c'mon," Pete said, handing me my drink. I smiled and kissed him on the cheek, causing him to grin widely. I slipped my phone back in my pocket right before he grabbed my hand, "Who were you texting?"

"Bren and Jess," I said, sipping on my drink as we left the little café.

"Oh, what'd they want?"

"Jess wants to go shopping for tour and Brendon says someone's home. He hasn't texted me back," I replied, swinging our hands lightly as we walked back to the car.

Here came the paparazzi. I sighed and plastered on a giant smile for the cameras. If I didn't smile in pictures, my mom would ask why I wasn't smiling. It was honestly so annoying.

"She better not tell you about it," He mumbled.

I rolled my eyes at him, "Seriously, Pete? She's not gonna tell. I've begged her to. But she won't tell me. You've got everyone's lips sealed tight."

"That's what she - "

"No, it's not, Pete. That doesn't make any sense," I said, shaking my head. He was so immature. "Tell me about the tour, please!"

He pouted, "You're no fun at all."

I laughed and kissed his cheek, "You love me and you know it."

"You're right, I do."

The shutter of the cameras was getting really annoying. And the fact we had three people in front of us, taking our pictures and listening to our conversation wasn't really something I liked at all.

"Can we run back to the car?" I whispered in Pete's ear. I saw a huge grin grow on his face. He stopped dead in his tracks and bent down a bit, allowing me to hop on his back. I laughed, wrapped my arms securely around his neck, still holding my drink in one hand, and wrapped my legs around his waist . Talent.

He held on to my legs and started running down the street to the car. The paparazzi ran to catch up with us, all the while taking a ton of photos that would later be printed in gossip magazines and put on gossip websites. I didn't care. I had the biggest smile on my face. I was so fucking happy with my life.