Difference Between Real Love and the Love on TV

At the restaurant they sit across from each other and Pete drags his french fries lazily through a puddle of ketchup before locking eyes with Masey. He can't get the picture of her, moaning and helpless on his bed, out of his head. He looks down, feeling his cheeks begin to color. Masey is looking down at her plate, a three-quarters eaten cheeseburger and some curly fries entertaining her eyes. This is really awkward for some reason and she doesn't know why.

It's almost as if they're only comfortable in the safety of Pete's sheets.

"I should probably get going home," Masey tells him as they finish their meal.

"Okay," he says. "I'll bring you home." And he does.

"Goodbye, Pete," Masey tells him, her fingers on the car door handle.

"Goodbye, Masey," he echos. They don't kiss, even know they both wish they would have. She exits the car and takes five long strides to her front door before slipping into the entryway, inconspicuous. Her mother couldn't know something was different. She wouldn't know. She wouldn't know, she wouldn't know, she wouldn't--

"What's wrong, Mase," she asks, walking past her daughter caught in the entryway.

"I, uh, nothing, mom. Nothing."

Her mother peers at her over her glasses. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm just a little tired. Pete and I just got lunch, that's all."

"You've been spending a lot of time with him lately," she observes.

"Don't I always."

"I don't know," Masey's mother shrugs. "Something seems different."

"It's not, believe me." Masey rolls her eyes and ascends the stairs to her room. "Love you," she calls over her shoulder to quell her mother's curiosity, her tone ending the conversation.

..........

After Pete drops off Masey he heads directly to Patrick's, unannounced, and uninvited. He sashays into his bedroom, plopping on the bed beside him. "Hey, Trickster," he sighs, throwing himself in Patrick's lap.

"Uh, hey, Pete. What, what brings you here?" He asks, confused and pushing his glasses up further on his nose.

"I don't know."

"You sound a little troubled."

"Oh, I am," Pete nods, staring up at his best friend.

"Why? What's eating you?" Patrick asks, pushing Pete, prompting him to sit up.

"I.. I dunno. Masey." Peter shrugs, leaning back onto his elbows to watch Patrick cross the room in search of his cell phone.

"What? Did you fuck her?" He snorts, judging the unlikelihood of the event.

"No," Pete lies, rolling his eyes.

"Then what's up?" His best friend prods, sitting beside him. Pete wraps his arms around Patrick and presses his face into his neck.

"I just need some life advice from you guys." He says, 'you guys' referring to Patrick, Joe, and Andy.

"Shall I rally the troops?" Patrick giggles, and it makes Pete laugh too.

"Of fucking course."

..........

Masey sits in her room the rest of the afternoon, half asleep, the events of the past 48 hours playing in her mind. Pete tending to her so affectionately, having sex with her, then an awkward lunch and dropping her without a proper goodbye. What was going on? Masey had thought that maybe, maybe she and Pete were going to be something more. But it hadn't gotten that far.

She tells her mom. Mostly because she has no one else to tell. The boys were her only real friends, and Pete was probably bragging to them as if she were some prize. Her mother doesn't say much besides give it time, Pete probably needs time, just as Masey does. Her mom doesn't judge her, because she can tell her mother anything. Her mother laughs a little. "I called it," she admits.

"Mom!" Masey cries, baffled. "What!?"

"I could tell by the way he looked at you. He'll be back," is all her mother says before leaving the room. Masey feels empty inside and curls up on her bed, lonely and confused.

..........

"I fucked her," Pete sighs, the guys crowded around in Patrick's basement. The statement hangs in the air for a moment; they're not sure if they're supposed to congratulate him or ask what's the matter. They sit, in silence. "And, I don't really know what to do."

"Wait, wait wait. Hold on," Joe points at Pete. "How many times?"

"Twice. Once at night, once in the morning."

"Did she like it?" Patrick asks timidly, his face blushing slightly. Pete didn't understand why Patrick was embarrassed when Pete was the one who had to admit to fucking their best friend.

"Yeah."

"Did you?"

"Yeah, a lot."

"So, what's the problem?" Andy interjects.

"The problem," Pete begins, "is we're in a band and we have things to do, things that won't be in Chicago, and I'm basically noncommittal in relationships."

"But you fucked her, and you like her," Joe rationalizes. He's probably a little stoned, but he's still making more sense than Pete is.

"Yeah, I like her a lot."

"So..."

"I don't want to hurt her." This statement also sits among them for several minutes. Pete runs his hand over his face and starts thinking about Masey. She's probably sitting at home, alone, wondering what was going to happen between them.

"Think about it, let it all sink in, and talk to her about it. This is as much about her feelings as it is about yours. She's probably questioning it all too," Patrick says, and Pete knows he's right. He knows they're all right.

"You guys are my best friends," Pete smiles weakly at them. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'd probably self-destruct," Patrick laughs. Pete wraps his arms around Patrick's shoulders and nuzzles his ear.

"Yeah, probably."