Take This to Your Grave

Babette finished my face and took Polaroids of me. She told me to act natural, though I did play with her a bit. I kept making faces right before she took the picture and she kept frowning at me before laughing; "C'mon, Naomi." She would groan.

I finally behaved for her and let her shoot me. After we finished, she was just about to take my makeup off when Pete stumbled in. He and Chris; both were laughing, but stopped all giggles when they saw me. Chris's brows shot up, Pete's jaw slacked; Chris was the one to speak up, "Holy shit, Naomi. Babe," he looked to Babette, "Holy shit!"

I frowned, "What? Do I look weird?"

Chris and Pete both shook their heads; "No." They said jointly.

"Then?" I asked with a shake of my own head.

"You look amazing," Babette said with an accomplished grin, "Thanks to my makeup skills and your wonderful face."

"Well..." I blushed, my face warming, "Okay."

Babette smiled and then turned to them, "Alright, you gawked, leave the hot girl alone, she's gotta get this stuff off and head home."

"No way!" Pete protested, "I need to take a picture of her."

I flipped him off, "Fuck that."

Babette rolled her eyes, at him, and grabbed one of the ruined shots and handed it off to him, "Drop dead, weasel."

Pete chuckled and looked at the polaroid; "Nice. You look cute here." He waved it at me and walked off.

"Dick." I mumbled.

Chris just shook his head; "You do look amazing, Naomi."

"Thanks."

He gave a nod and left, too. Babette turned back to me and began to remove the makeup, "God, I love your face. Can I do this again?"

I shrugged, "Sure."

After my face was cleaned up, I took the Polaroids, hugged Babette and left. I walked out the house, and straight towards my house. Upon this, Pete popped out of the bushes; literally; he just popped up, walking and meeting up beside me.

I smelt cigarette smoke on him. "When did you start smoking?" I asked before he could start talking.

He didn't reply, he simple pulled the Polaroids from my hand; "When did you become a hot model?"

I reached for them, us pausing on the sidewalk; "I'm not a car! Give those back!"

Pete laughed and held them behind his back; he couldn't hold them over my head, we're the same height. "C'mon, Naomi, lemme keep 'em."

"No!" I punched his gut, he faltered only a bit, keeping a hold.

"You can't hurt me." He teased.

I reached behind his back and found his hands, nothing. I stepped back, "Gimme those!"

"Nope."

I rolled my eyes, "Fine, keep 'em...see if I care."

I started to walk off, hearing a laugh from Pete.

"Calm down, they'll be safe." He caught up with me.

"What, is this blackmail or something?" I narrowed my eyes at him.

"No. They're more like..." he trailed and paused, "Like...a keepsake to tell our kids one day."

I turned my head, face blushing again, "As if I would ever have kids with you! You're the most impossible man on earth, and I'm going to marry Tim Roth, remember?"

He snorted, "I think he's already married."

"Non legal marriage, then." I huffed.

"No, to win the $5 it has to be a real, legal wedding."

I stopped, crossed my arms over my chest, "That wasn't said in the handshake agreement!"

He shrugged, that smug smile spread across his face, "It was in my head when we shook on it."

"That's against principle!" I spat out, and it occurred to me how ridiculous we sounded. "Dear God, we sound like lunatics."

He laughed, "I'm kidding, Naomi."

"Of course you are!" I started off again, "You can't take anything serious."

Pete didn't move, not until a few feet later; "I'm sorry."

"For what?" I asked, my eyes kept forward.

"Making you mad."

"You didn't make me mad, though, I would like those pictures back."

"Too bad, they're mine."

"You have to answer a question of mine," I reasoned, "If not, I get to come into your bedroom, vandalize it and take my pictures."

He sighed dramatically, "If I answer it, you'll be nice to me and let me keep them?"

"For sure."

He was silent as we turned the corner, "Okay. Go."

"Why were you talking to Leah?"

Again, silence. The only sound were crickets, literally, out in the grass. I looked at him, "10 seconds and I'm spray painting Dickwad on your bedroom wall."

Pete dug into his back pocket, pulled the Polaroids out and handed them to me. I frowned, "Hey, you still have to tell me."

"You're not really going to vandalize my room." He smirked. "Plus, what I do with my girlfriend is none of your business."

My body halted; it felt as if the world shifted around me. I was more so upset that he said it in such a cross way; as if I was prying and didn't know anything. I dropped the pictures and shoved him, "You're the one who got me wrapped into this bullshit!"

He turned and faced me, "Naomi--"

"Shut up!" I snapped, "I'm sick and tired of hearing about her, especially since you didn't help pull her off of me! You're not my friend, you're just some jerk who likes to toy with me! And why?"

I was borderline screaming.

Pete's jaw slacked, "Naomi, I--"

"You want me to tell you why? Because she toys with you! She's got you brainwashed into this lovesick puppy and it's annoying, and heartbreaking because I love you so much!"

I love you did not come out platonically and we both knew it. That didn't stop me.

"You want to be her fuckin' puppet, her little dog; go ahead, just don't talk to me anymore." I stormed off past him, feeling that sickly feeling in the pit of my stomach.

It was like when I would hear my mom going on about how much she hated having me in the house. Her sharp words cut into me, the way I knew she was serious. My heart pounded, my chest and head ached. I wanted to cry, I wanted to throw up. I needed to get home.

When I did get home, Amy had already arrived. I stayed outside for a minute, hoping I didn't look upset. I hadn't cried, though my eyes stung; I figured I could blame it on the makeup.

I went in, holding my breath; immediately after the door closed, Amy said my name, "Hey, honey."

I went in, "Hi."

She emerged from the kitchen, her wide smile fell, "Oh. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Babette put makeup on me...I'll show--" I stopped when I remembered I didn't have the Polaroids. "I forgot the pictures."

"It's okay," she patted my shoulder, "Come eat, I just finished."

"Yeah, okay." My voice said off to me, but I didn't care presently.

My dad was sitting at the table; "I was going to call over Kate's and see if you were going to stay for dinner over there."

"Sorry, Babette was putting makeup on me." I explained, "That's why my face looks weird right now."

My dad looked me over, "Your face looks naked."

I laughed shortly, almost forcefully, "I know."

He patted my back, "If Marlena could see you now."

"She'd call me a no good harlot."

Amy frowned as she put food on the table, "She would?"

"More than likely." I replied. "No biggie."

"Well," she began, "It's a biggie for me."

I smiled genuinely at her, "Then I wish you could've met my dad in college and gotten knocked up."

My dad snorted a laugh, and Amy smiled at me, "I kind of wish that too."