Take This to Your Grave

I was extremely disconnected throughout the party. I tried to interact, but my head was elsewhere. Not exactly just on Pete, but more so on how I would get rid of the guilt. I was afraid to break up with Mike, because that wouldn't rid myself of the guilt. Plus, he was such a nice guy and I knew Pete wouldn't ever just be mine.

I'm not stupid, I know Pete would fuck around and actually fuck around. So, I was still unsure of what to do.

I watched Mike drum, maneuvering my head between his friends guitars and legs. He was even cute drumming with a fierce look; his hair all over his face, covered in sweat. My teeth tugged at my bottom lip, and I tried to think of ways to do this, to explain myself.

Afterward, I was itching to leave. I had to be alone with Mike and figure this all out. Us being alone would fix my dilemma, help me make a real decision.

Jesus Christ, I felt like I was choosing a career for the rest of my life.

Finally, we left at around 11; I was suddenly filled with dread and wanting to throw up. Mike had noticed as we got into the car, with the overhead light on; "You look green, Naomi, are you alright?"

I licked my lips and nodded slowly, "I'm fine."

He frowned, "You look like you're gonna puke. I'm gonna take you to my house, I need to shower anyway."

I sat back and inhaled, trying to build my guts up. Mike drove off, I could see him looking over at me in my peripheral vision. His house was coming closer and I couldn't hold it in anymore; I rolled the window down, got on my knees on the seat and stuck my head out the window. I puked, my hair stuck to my face and I felt like complete shit. Mike was saying something from inside the car, but I couldn't hear; I couldn't stop throwing up; not until he stopped.

I sunk back into the car and wiped my mouth with the back of my arm. I sat back, apologizing to Mike; "I dunno what's wrong with me."

"Come inside, I'll give you somethin'."

I climbed out of the car and followed Mike inside; his folks always worked overtime, and left him alone; most of the time Mike was with me or his friends. I had been in his house a few times, but I knew his bedroom as well as my own.

Mike took me into the bathroom and gave me a bottle of anti-nausea medicine. I took a little gulp of it and then rinsed my mouth. Mike looked me over, "You just look pale now."

"I always look pale." I joked.

He smiled, "You should lie down on the couch, babe."

I exhaled softly, "Alright."

He kissed my forehead, "Feel better."

Again, I felt guilty; I made my way to the living room and laid on the couch. I rubbed my temples and tried to think again, but I was coming up with nothing. I stared at the ceiling until I heard Mike coming from the hall. I sat up and saw him shaking his hair out in a dark colored towel.

God, he was so fucking cute. He had on an Iron Maiden t-shirt and plaid pajama pants. Jesus, help me.

"You still look flushed, Naomi." Mike sat beside me, "Did you eat or drink something at the party?"

I shook my head, "No..." I swallowed and felt my insides knot in nervousness. "I really, really need to talk to you."

He looked a bit confused, "What's up?"

I rubbed my neck, "I really like you, I do...I'm not sure--"

He cut me off, "Are you breaking up with me?"

I looked at him, but he was looking down, the towel in his hands.

"No," I muttered, "I'm not, I just need to tell you something, okay?"

He looked up, "What?"

My hands were shaking, "Pete...Pete Wentz, he's...he's, uh...um," I didn't know how to say anything logical, or how to explain myself. "He and I are close." I managed to spit out. "He's one of my best friends, I feel like I've known him my entire life."

"What's that got to do with me?" He asked curiously.

"I love him, Mike." I muttered. "I'm in love with him." Suddenly, tears spurted and I wiped them away quickly, "I, uh...I'm stuck in between wanting you or wanting him. I like you more than I've liked any other guy, aside from Pete, and I rather be with you than him."

Mike just looked at me with a blank look. I felt like throwing up again.

"I'm sorry if you hate me for telling you this, but I really wanted you to know. I like you so, so much, and I want to continue being with you, and--"

He put his hand up, "Stop."

I shut my eyes, waiting for him to say something. My heart was beating so fast, I thought I would have a heart attack. Mike had put his hand down and was looking forward; I wanted to beg him to say something.

"Mike?" My voice had trembled.

"Is that all there is?" He asked, his voice was soft; I had expected it to be rough.

I decided to lie, "Yes."

"You aren't sleeping with him behind my back, are you?" He looked a me with a humorous smile and my nerves calmed.

"No, I'm not."

Mike exhaled then, "Does he know that you love him?"

I nodded slowly, "But...he doesn't...like, uh, care. I mean, he cares, he just doesn't care enough to want to be with me."

Mike frowned, "I don't see why not."

"My dad hates him."

He laughed, "Oh, wow."

I smiled softly, "Are you upset with me?"

Mike shook his head, "No."

"I'm sorry if I--"

He cut me off, "Naomi, it's okay."

"Thank you." I murmured.

"Is that what you were sick about?"

"Yeah. I wasn't sure how you'd feel; I didn't want to hurt your feelings, Mike."

He chuckled, "I was so sure you were gonna break up with me."

"I like you too much." I smiled at him.

He leaned over and wrapped his arm around my middle; "I like you too much, too."


I did not break up with Mike. I didn't want to, because it had dawned on me that if I did, I wouldn't have Pete anyway. Mike liked me and I liked him, and I was allowed to be with him.

I just wasn't sure what to do with Pete. I knew that what I did with him shouldn't have happened. The kissing needed to stop as well, because I just couldn't do it while I was with Mike. To be honest, I knew that I would miss all those things with Pete, because I loved him and I wanted him. As for right now, I liked Mike and he was wonderful to me.

I would have to tell Pete and that worried me. He felt entitled and above all, especially with me, so it was gonna be hard. The next time I did see him it was at another party; two weeks after I told Mike about Pete.

I was with Mike, Bill, Ricky and Carden; the place was crowded, and miraculously, I spotted Pete in the kitchen. That's where anyone could find Pete; leaning against a counter or sink at a party. I was afraid to approach him, to tell him, but I knew I needed to.

I touched Mike's hand and leaned into his ear so he'd hear me over the music, "I'm gonna get a drink, want one?"

"Yeah," he said over the music.

I kissed his cheek and left his side; I surpassed people, my eyes on Pete as he held a clear plastic cup filled with beer. My stomach lurched with both butterflies and nervousness. I tilted my head a bit and touched his shoulder once I was just feet away from him.

Pete looked up, then down and then quickly up again, "What the hell are you doing here? Do you know who's party this is?"

"Mike's friend Vince," I answered. "Can I talk to you for a minute? It's important."

He cocked a brow, "Where's your boyfriend?"

"With his friends. Pete, please, I need to talk to you."

He gave a small nod, leaned off the counter and downed the rest of his beer. He tossed the cup and led the way towards the sliding door leading to the backyard. I hoped that this wouldn't take too long; I didn't want Mike to wonder where I was.

We exited the house; the music was muffled as I shut the sliding glass door behind me. Pete patted his pockets and eventually grabbed a cigarette pack and a lighter. I decided to start, "Pete, I like Mike a lot, and you know I love you--"

He stopped me after taking a long drag, "Are you breaking up with me, Navy?" He laughed; then blew the smoke into the air.

"What we did--what we do isn't acceptable anymore. It's not fair to Mike and I want to be with him. So, me and you aren't going to be seeing each other like we do."

He looked at me with a furrowed brow, cigarette hanging from his lips, tight, holding onto it. "What?"

"I--we aren't going to kiss each other or touch each other. I like--"

"Fuck your boyfriend." He spat out as he took the cigarettes from his lips. "And you're deciding now that you don't want me?"

"I never said that--"

He cut me off, "You might as well have," tossed the cigarette and stepped closer to me, "Does he know what me and you do?"

I stepped back and nearly tripped over a deck chair; "No, why would I tell him that?"

"To get rid of the guilt." he muttered, "What did you tell him about me?"

"Nothing." I lied.

"You're a fucking liar." He shot back.

"Why do you care what I told him about you?"

"Because," he nearly shouted, "I want to know if he knows what I do to you. I'm not talking about shit we do in our beds, I'm talking about how red you get when you see me. How you giggle and moan when I kiss you, and how much you think about me just as much as I think about you."

I was on the verge of crying; the truth was hitting me in the face and I hated it.

"He's a nice guy," my voice was soft and almost shaking, "He-he makes me happy."

"And I don't?"

I was silent, and I wanted to lie again and say no, that he didn't; Pete would've saw right through that lie.

"Can we just leave it as it is?" I asked as absent tears rolled down my cheeks. "I'm sorry if you're mad at me."

He smirked at me, "Yeah. Okay."

I moved around him and returned inside; I wiped my face and hurried to the kitchen to get those drinks. I tried to push Pete's words out of my head.


It was the first week of May when I saw Pete again. That night hadn't left my mind; I thought of it everyday. Mike hadn't asked what took me so long, so I had been in the clear.

Pete had come over when my dad and Amy were still at work; I was home alone, Mike had just dropped me off from school. I barely set my rucksack on the stairs when the doorbell rang. Thinking it was Mike, I just said; "Come in."

The door opened and I turned; I nearly jumped in the air when I saw Pete. He had a blank look on his face; I was just about to tell him to leave, but his expressionless face made me question him; "Why're you here?"

He licked his lips, "I need to ask you a serious question, okay?"

I raised a brow, but said, "Okay."

"Would you marry me?"

It wasn't a proposal, just a question.

I frowned, "What kind of question is that?"

"A serious one."

I shrugged nonchalantly, "I dunno, Pete."

"Would you marry your boyfriend?" He asked then.

"We've only been dating 3 months--"

He cut me off, "That wasn't the question."

"I don't know." I pronounced each word with annoyance.

Pete just stood there, looking at me; there was something in his eyes, but I wasn't lost as to what it was.

"Is that all?" I asked.

"Don't talk to me like that." He muttered with an attitude.

I furrowed my brow, "I can talk to you any way I want to; with the way you've treated me!"

"Treated you how?"

"You ignored me, you've shut me out--"

"No I didn't!"

"Yes you did! You've pissed me off in every way you could!"

"I've apologized!"

"Yeah, they were empty apologies! I don't even know why you even bother with me, Pete! I never mattered to you, because your so selfish, and you only bother me because I'm the only one who puts up with it!" My hands were shaking, "Just lay it out for me, Pete; say I never mattered! That I don't!"

"You matter to me!" He shouted, "I fucking love you, Naomi! I'm in love with you!"

That was the first time he said that he was in love with me and actually say it with emotion. My stomach clenched and I wanted to hit him, just out of frustration. I wanted to know if he meant it or if he was acting, pretending.

"Don't lie to me." I managed to spit out.

"Why the fuck would I lie?" He muttered after me. "I've blown off my friends and most girls to hang out with you. I only got high around you to make myself say those words about how much I love you, because I was scared to actually mean it."

I swallowed and felt my heart beating a bit quickly; "Why didn't you want to mean it?"

"Because I'm a fuckin' loser. I'm--I'm a goddamn idiot with no future. I fucking hate school, I fucking hate my job, I hate everything but you."

I bit at the inside of my cheek, unsure of what to say. My eyes filled with tears and I bit down hard on my cheek. Pete and I looked at each other for what felt like an eternity; we only broke our stare when there came sharp knocks on the door.