Take This to Your Grave

Pete let go of my hand and leaned against the island counter, hopping onto it.

I crossed my arms over my chest and asked, "Whadda want?"

He smiled at me, "Did you get my note?"

"Yeah," I glared at him, "How the hell did you get in my bedroom?"

"You left the front door unlocked." He replied with that shit eating grin of his. I slugged his arm, causing him to yelp, "Ow!"

"You asshole!" I nearly shouted, "You're a son of a bitch, you know that? If there was a fork around I'd stab you in the eye!"

He kept on grinning, "C'mon, Navy--"

"Stop calling me that! My name is Naomi. And, I do not want to talk to you again, after the way you just blew me off--"

Gone was the smile, "What was I suppose to do?" He questioned, "Leah was right there."

"She hit me!" I cried. "She pushed me and you just stood there as if I was some damn stranger!"

"I apologize, Naomi," he was sympathetic now, "I apologize a billion times. I didn't know what to do then... Having two girls fight over me about looking at me is way out of left field for me--"

"You could've held her back and told her I wasn't screwing you, for one, Pete!"

"I did tell her that!"

I shut my eyes, leaned against the sink and licked over my lips, "It doesn't even matter anyone. I don't care and I don't want to talk to you no more--"

"Naomi," he said over me, "Really, I am so, so, so sorry. You're my friend, my good, good friend, alright? I choose my friends over a girl who makes me miserable more than she makes me happy, any day. You understand?"

"No." I answered shortly, "I do not understand. Why do you do it then if you know how idiotic it is?"

Pete just stared at me. He jumped off the counter, his eyes still locked with mine and took hold of my sides. I frowned, "What're you--"

He picked me up and placed me on the counter; the spot warm from his ass; "Please don't ask questions you don't want the answer to." He leaned back against where I had been standing.

"I do want the answer." I told him shortly.

"You don't."

"I do."

Pete chewed on the inside of his lip, and then licked the corner of them a moment later. "I don't have a real answer."

"Well," I swallowed, "You don't deserve to be treated horribly."

The look on his face was plain and clear; the look said that he did.

"What do you want me to say?" He muttered after a moment; it was a quiet spat of words, indicating that he wasn't sure of what to actually say.

"I don't want you to say anything, Pete."

We were both quiet for what felt like ages. Pete finally exhaled, took that small step towards me and grabbed my wrists; "Do you forgive me?"

I narrowed my eyes at him, "Now why would should I?"

He grinned, "Because I'm your best friend and you have no choice but to forgive me."

I scoffed, "I don't need you, I got Babette."

He scoffed right back, "I've known you longer."

I rolled my eyes, "Wow, three whole weeks longer."

Pete smiled famously at me, still, "I'm really sorry about it all, Naomi."

"Okay," I nodded, thinking, "But I owe you something."

He raised a brow, "What?"

I smiled, "Close your eyes."

He did so without protest. "What?" He asked again.

I raised my fist and hit him in the mouth. He stumbled back, yelped and groaned, eyes shot open, "What the fuck?!"

I hopped off the the counter, rubbing my sore knuckles; "Now we've both got bruises."

He hissed, hand clutching his bloodied mouth, "Fuck, Navy."

"You should see my temple, ya jerk." I slugged his arm with my sore hand. "You're forgiven."

He wiped his mouth, "Goddammit."


With things smoothed over, with bruises and all, Babette took me home. First, though, we swung by the mall to get cinnamon rolls with Kate. The ride was a swift one, and they didn't pester me about Pete, though they did laugh over the fact I had hit him.

"Now," Babette began with a giggle, "I'm not sayin' the little weasel didn't deserve it, but why'd you hit him?"

"His girlfriend gave me a bruise, he might as well get one for the trouble." I answered.

"Goddamn, that was good." She laughed again.

Kate had looked back at me, giving me this look. I couldn't place it, but it was somber, sympathetic almost. All I could do was smile at her, and she smiled back, and faced forward.

The trip to the mall went by quickly; I bought my dad a cinnamon roll to give him. It was a bit of an alibi since I got home way after 4.

Babette got to my house, she and Kate waved to me as I went up the porch; my dad had come out the door then, looking frantic. As if all hell had broken loose while I had gone. He grabbed my arm and pulled me into the house, "Where the hell have you been?!"

I jumped back, "I was at the mall. I met some people."

"Who?" He glared at me, his emotion was still strung high.

"Babette Holmes and Kate Gutierrez..." I trailed, and then I grinned apologetically; "I bought you a cinnamon roll."

My dad's frantic state relented and he exhaled, "You had me worried, Naomi!"

"I'm sorry, dad." I hugged him, "I didn't know I'd be getting home so late, they brought me home."

He patted my back, "I figured you'd be somewhere close... You didn't leave me a message."

"Again, I'm sorry, dad," I let him go and dangled the bag up to him, "Am I forgiven?"

He nodded, "Yes, Naomi."

I led him off to the kitchen, "How come if you were so worried you didn't come lookin' for me?"

He smirked at me, "I did. But, I knew you would be back. I had a feeling."

"A feeling? I could be murdered in a ditch somewhere!"

He shot a look at me, "Don't start."

I smiled innocently at him, "I'm kidding."

He shook his head, "I might just ground you for that little stunt."

"I'm in one piece," I pushed the bag toward him, "And I brought you a snack."

My dad smiled back at me, "You're lucky, Naomi."

"I know."