Take This to Your Grave

The beating of my heart matched the bass thrashing from the large house Pete led me to. It wasn't too far from our homes, but the whole street looked so different. It was as if we were in a different town; a whole other world.

Pete held my hand, leading me inside. People seemed to spill from the house; some drunk, some laughing, some kissing and some fighting. I didn't stare, I kept close to Pete, his hand tight and moist in mine.

We had held hands the entire way. Even now, it was too comfortable to let go. It was like our hands were meant to be held together. But, as he maneuvered us into the large house, and to the kitchen, he let my hand go. He looked to me, now placing his arm around my shoulder.

"Guys," he muttered over the music that was muffled into the other room. The few people in the kitchen, 3 guys (whom I recognized) and 2 girls (one who was older and holding on to one of the guys I saw before). "This is Naomi. Naomi, this is," he began to point people out, "Joe Trohman," the blonde boy from the yard who looked younger than me, "Chris Gutierrez," the other guy from the yard; "Andy Hurley," this guy had red hair and glasses; he looked so shy.

"Hey," they all said in unison.

"That's Jennifer," Pete pointed to a girl at the counter, who was smirking at me. "And that's Babette; Chris's mouth piece."

"Fuck you," Babette muttered over the music, flipping Pete off.

Pete just laughed and I smiled, feeling so out of place. Pete leaned over, "Don't worry about them. Let's get a drink."

As swiftly as I met his friends, Pete led me towards the dining room. More people I didn't know, chugging beer, cheering and laughing. "I don't want beer." I said to him in his ear.

"I know," he smiled.

Pete gave me a cold can of soda and he himself had a clear plastic cup filled with dark beer. He took hold of my arm gently, "Come see the band."

"The band?"

"Playing, my friends." He spoke in short jabs so I'd hear him.

"Alright." I replied.

He led me towards the living room, where a band was playing in the middle of the living room, surrounded by people. I could barely see them, and barely understand what they were saying. I took a drink as Pete let my arm go and chugged his drink, cheering.

I shook my head at him, mostly out of a habit of seeing him happy. It was nice to see him this way; he was either gloomy or grinning at me. It was rare I saw him excited and cheering happily.

As soon as the band stopped, they started another. This time, it was a song I knew; they were covering Love Her Madly by the Doors. I smiled to myself, but it fell when Pete grabbed my hand; I was rocked from my own thoughts. I looked at him, he grinned and leaned into my ear, "Wanna dance?"

I almost burst out into laughter; it was the fact that I never danced with anyone, especially to a song by the Doors. Could you even dance to this song?

I shrugged to Pete, repeating my thought into his ear. He just took my hand and pulled me near the front door, nearly into a crowd of people who were all dancing to the hardcore version of Love Her Madly. I wasn't sure what dance we could even do to the song, but Pete just grabbed my can and set it somewhere, before grabbing hold of my waist and dancing funnily with me.

I was in a fit of giggles, my stomach cramping as I laughed with Pete. It was as if the entire room was gone, the music got louder and our laughter was sunk beneath it. I hadn't been so happy or had as much fun as I did at that moment.

We did the stupid little dance until we got tired; the band had played two other songs. Pete and I were sweaty and he got close into my ear, "Are you ready to go?"

"Sure."

He took hold of my hand and led me out the door; I was surprised that he didn't say goodnight to his friends. The air was so cold, having been in that hot, humid house; my ears had nearly gone, I could feel the bass in my ears.

"Did you have fun?" Pete asked as we walked down the block.

"Yeah, I did." I looked at him, "Did you? I mean, it is your birthday."

He held my wrist up to look at my watch, "My birthday ends in an hour, and it was fun."

"You could've stayed, y'know," I told him, "I could've gone home on my own."

"I couldn't do that to you," he shook his head with his words. "Besides, I don't really like to stay there, there's some girls that I don't like. My friends," he continued, sighing, "They don't get why I hang out with you."

I smirked slightly, "I don't seem to get it either."

"I like you," he answered quickly. "I don't wanna fuck you, I mean."

"I know that," I laughed humorously, making him comfortable, "If I knew you did, I wouldn't have been alone with you."

"How would you have known?" He questioned.

"I went to catholic school, Pete," I said sardonically. "I went to the parties, I've seen the boys. I've heard the pick up lines; I'm not stupid."

"So, catholic girls are freaks, eh?"

"Yep."

"Good to know."

I shook my head at him; I always seemed to whenever Pete said something.

"Anyway, my friends think it's weird I like you so much if I'm not trying to sleep with you." Pete finished.

"I'm sorry about that." Was my automatic response.

"You shouldn't be sorry. We're friends, who cares?"

"My dad." I laughed.

"Your dad would kill me."

"I know." I licked over my lips, "I wonder how I would go about telling him."

"How come you talk like that?" Pete asked me in a rush, stuttering over his words a bit.

"Like what?"

"I wonder how I would go about telling him," he mimicked me, snickering, "Like you're a book."

"I wasn't raised in a barn, Peter."

He chuckled and was silent for a moment; "I like the way you say my name; Peter."

"Why?"

"It just sounds nice coming from you."

"Wow, you bounce around topics, don't you?" I mused.

"Meh, I can't help it." He shrugged.

We continued the rest of the walk home in silence. We got towards my yard and Pete followed me towards the drain pipe, helping me climb up it; "I don't see how you did this." I muttered, quickly running out of breath.

"Hoist yourself up, Naomi... Good." He coached from the lawn.

Once I was on the roof, I waved to him; "Goodnight Pete."

I couldn't see him too well, but I saw his hand wave back; "'Night Naomi."

I stepped carefully over to my open bedroom window and slipped inside. I began to remove my clothes, remembering that I had Pete's shirt. I took it off and set it on my desk chair, making note to return it in the morning when I would go to walk Princess. I slipped on my pajamas and climbed into bed. As soon as I was beneath the covers and my head sunk into the pillow, I began to think about Pete and the dancing; it was such a blur of a good time.