Take This to Your Grave

I went next door the next afternoon to take Princess out. Andrew was on the lawn, kicking a soccer ball around. My stomach knotted and I waved awkwardly at him, "H-hey, Andrew."

Andrew looked up and waved back, "Hey Naomi."

I bit my lip and crossed over the pathway to his lawn, "Could I possibly talk to you for a moment?"

Andrew shrugged, "Sure. What's up?"

"I, uh, wanted to talk about the other day."

I raised a brow, and stated; "The other day."

"When you caught me coming out your brother's room."

Andrew chuckled, "Pete already explained, Naomi. I'm not going to say anything."

I frowned slightly, relief, though, rushed over me; "What did he say?"

"Pete told me how much you've been helping him... He told me not to tell you," he smirked to himself. "But, I know you'd never sleep with my brother."

"How?" I questioned him curiously.

"My brother is crazy," he sputtered. "No girl ever really likes my brother unless they're half as crazy as them. Leah is definitely an exception."

I hated the way Andrew talked about Pete; it bothered me a great deal. Still, as much as I wanted to defend Pete, I didn't. I was a coward, so I instead walked away; "Where're you goin'?" Andrew asked as I suddenly turned away.

"To walk Princess." I said shortly, going up the steps.

Andrew muttered something and continued to kick the ball. I went inside, hearing Princess yip and yap as I walked in, "Hey Girl, you ready to go?"

I grabbed her leash and was ready to leave when Pete came walking down the stairs. He had just woken up, rubbing his eyes and yawning; "Talking to you put me on schedule."

"Hey." I mumbled, "I'll see you later."

He grabbed my arm, "Don't want me to come with?"

I shook my head, "It's not that, it's just... I'm not feeling too good today, Pete, sorry."

He let my arm go and leaned against the banister, giving me a quizzical look, "You're sick?"

"No... No. I'll explain later."

He frowned, "Alright, Naomi."

I went out with Princess, pass Andrew, whose back was turned toward me, kicking the ball with his knee. I headed down the block, the different direction, blowing off steam, letting Princess trudge forward happily.

I wasn't too sure why Andrew's words bothered me as much as they did. I guess it was the fact that Pete's my friend and I knew a bit about him. It's his brother, too; why would he talk that way about him?

I shook it off and continued walking, letting Princess pick the way. She seemed to know where to go, when to turn and where to stop to go. We made our way back around the block, back towards our homes.

I took Princess inside and let her run in. I was getting ready to leave when Pete appeared, smiling cheekily at me; "Come up here."

I didn't object; I shut the door and followed him upstairs. The house was quiet, except for then air going, circling up the stairs with cool air. Pete let me into his room and shut the door behind him; "What's up?" I asked him.

"Tell me what's wrong." He said, taking my wrist and sitting me on his bed.

I began to take the tie from my hair and bunch my hair up back into a ponytail. I sighed, "Your brother."

"What about my brother?" He sat at his desk and spun around in the office desk chair.

I finished my hair, exhaling, "Pete, it isn't anything to worry about."

He chuckled, "You have to tell me now."

I bit at my lip, "He said some stuff that bothered me."

"Like what?" He furrowed his brow.

I decided to lie to Pete. I was good at it anyway. "About... You know," I mumbled with a shrug, "Being careful, that's all."

Pete took it as that; thank God. "Forget him, Naomi."

"Yeah, I am." I laughed sheepishly.

Pete exhaled, standing, "Now, let's go get some ice cream or somethin', I'm fuckin' bored."


Things between Pete and I stayed the same as the second week progressed. I had gotten over what Andrew had said and I was then focused on going to Pete's show. The idea of going to see him perform at a club had made me way too excited. I couldn't wait to see him on stage, I mean I never been to a show before.

Sure, I've been to a concert, but this was different. Aside, the concert I attend was when I was 13; my dad took me to see the Backstreet Boys. I told Pete this and all he did was laugh; because, as he said, he couldn't picture me liking the Backstreet Boys.

"I still do." I smirked at him.

Pete was lying on my bed; my dad was out with Amy again. They left me to my own devices; which, unbeknownst to them, was having Pete Wentz come over and entertain me.

"They suck, Naomi." He laughed, "Why do you like them?"

"Because I do. They're cute and the music is catchy. How is it any different than you liking Lifetime or Blink-182?"

His smile faltered and he gave a nod, "I guess you're right."

I sat beside him, but my feet to the head of my bed. I watched Pete lie there with fascination. He's cute and my crush was growing, and I knew it would lead me into trouble. I was able to hide it, though. My mom says I've got an ice cold poker face; I should be a professional thief, I could lie my way out of anything.

"What's your middle name?" Pete asked as he sat up.

"Why?" I questioned as he stood and began to walk around my bedroom.

"I just want to know... Get to know my friend better."

"It's Anne." I told him, "What's yours?"

He stood at my bookshelf, I strained around to continue to look at him; "Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz... The 3rd."

I smiled to myself before lying on my back and staring up at the ceiling, "That's a mouthful."

"Yeah, I know."

Pete riffled through my books until he picked one out and sat back on the bed. He had Albert Camus' The Stranger; "I got the French version, too," I told him, "I'm trying to learn French."

"Spanish is easier." He mumbled without a tone to his voice.

"That book is weird."

He looked up at me, "What's it about?"

I looked at him, my head cocked to the side, "Uh, it's about this guy who is detached from the world that he has no feeling towards anything. His mother dies in the beginning and he doesn't cry; he has this girl who is in love with him and he is indifferent towards her. By the end he's killed a man and is sentenced to death and doesn't mind it all." Pete's brows rose, "I didn't like it."

"Why'd you read it?"

"I liked the cover."

He laughed, shaking his head at me, "You took don't judge a book by it's cover to a literal sense."

I bit back a laugh myself, "I thought it'd be interesting. I bought the French version so I could learn the language easier if I knew what I was already reading."

"Why are you learning it anyway?"

"I have nothing else better to do." I answered with a shrug.

Pete's eyes narrowed, but not in a threatening way. A smile peaked and then he grinned, "You're so weird, Naomi."

I scoffed, "Well, I can't just hang out with you all the time!"

"Yes you can. Fuck French and let me teach you an instrument."

"I am not musically inclined, Pete. I'll stick to languages."

"I can play the piano." He said.

"For real?" I wasn't expecting that.

"Yeah. I could teach you."

"Nah, I'm good."

"Why are you always turning away my advances?" He joked as he rolled onto his stomach to lie at the end of the bed with me.

I batted my eyelashes, mockingly, "You are simply not my type, Mr. Wentz."

He laughed, "What is your type?" The question was quizzical and quite serious.

I shrugged, "I don't know. I never had a preference."

"Guys like Andrew?"

I shook my head, "Dude, I've never ever been attracted to your brother, gimme a break."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. He's... I don't know." I exasperated, blushing for some odd reason.

Pete didn't push the issue, he continued to lay beside me and flip through the pages of the Stranger.