Status: Will update in free time.
You're Magic
To The Hotel Stairs.
Pete and I are awake by one-thirty the next afternoon. His right leg is hanging off of the bed and he has all the covers. We're both hung over and over tired. I snatch the comforter from him and bury my face in my pillow. I groan, "Shoot me." The words are miserable and muffled in the fabric of the pillowcase. Pete rolls over and pulls me into him where I melt almost instantly.
In this moment I want to stay with him forever.
My face rests in the crook of his neck and he's rubbing my back and it's soothing and comforting. We don't talk, but we don't really need to. We never really have.
At some point Pete decides he needs to go. I don't want him to, and I tell him this. He smiles at me sweetly, taking me in his arms again. He kisses my forehead in a fatherly way and tells me to shower and get dressed, we're going to his house to make tacos. I jump out of bed and scramble to get an outfit together. Pete watches me with an amused expression from the bed. I give him a wave as I enter the bathroom and leave him on the bed with that stupid smile on his face. The one I haven't seen in years.
We get to Pete's house and it's big and the inside is messy because he never has time to clean. At least, that's what he's telling me. I personally think he's just too lazy. His dogs jump on me and I laugh and pet them before Pete takes them outside and I get the taco stuff ready. He comes back and we make tacos and it's fun and they come out pretty damn good.
After we eat I say I want to take the dogs for a walk, so Pete says okay and puts them on the leashes, giving me the younger one and taking my hand in his. We walk around his neighborhood for an hour or so and it's really peaceful. I tell him how there's nowhere like this for me to walk in New York and he tells me I should visit more often. I say I will.
I'm cleaning Pete's house that night and I stumble upon the Baby Boy's room. It's painted light blue and white and he has a racecar bed. I pick up his toys strewn around the floor, all colorful and plastic, and throw them into the plastic bin beside his closet. Then I sit down in the rocking chair. I don't notice, but this room makes me smile. I hear Pete calling my name and I tell him I'm in the Baby Boy's room. He walks in and he's smiling at me. I ask why he's so smiley and he says it's what happens when I'm around. I just laugh and take his hand in mine and he pulls me up from the rocking chair, asking if I want wine. I say sure and we go downstairs.
This wine is white and it's stronger and after each glass I taste it in the back of my throat. Pete pours my fifth glass and I watch the pale-gold liquid swirl around. He has out his Blackberry now and he's drinking and texting and it's probably not the best combination but I don't stop him. "You're having lunch with Patrick tomorrow," Pete tells me, looking up from his phone. Not even two seconds later Patrick sends me a text telling me we have sushi plans at one o'clock.
I say, "Okay," and I want to ask if Pete's coming, but I don't.
"I didn't realize that not having my Blackberry on for two days meant I dropped off the face of the planet," Pete laughs, and I laugh too. He shows up in my Twitter feed a minute later:
petewentz: Dropped off of the face of the planet but the girl's magic, I swear.
I want to lean over and kiss him square on the mouth, but that could just be the wine.
evelyn1614: @petewentz good wine. let's get weird.
Pete's laughing at me as he pours us more wine. This is my sixth glass and my last, I've decided so I resort to playing with my iPhone as soon as I drink the last drop. Pete's tweeting like crazy about nothing in particular.
"Hey, stop tweeting and talk to me." I'm giggling even though I'm trying to be serious.
Pete tosses his Blackberry on the love seat on the other side of the room."What do you want to talk about?"
"I dunno."
Pete's laughing. "Let's watch a movie!" He's excited, so I don't say no and we end up watching Tangled on Netflix. I find it way funnier than I should, but it's okay because I need a good laugh.
I spend the night at Pete's house except I don't really sleep, tossing and turning in the guest bed all night. We're both awake by seven thirty throwing up. Pete's done far sooner than I would've anticipated and now he's sitting behind me, holding my hair from my face. It feels like we're teenagers all over again. And it brings back weird memories of Pete and me passed out in my bed after nights of parties and drinking and bands and headaches.
It makes me miss Chicago.
Pete and I make pancakes after I finish throwing up and I brush my teeth. They're perfect and fluffy and have lots of chocolate chips. This makes me think of Chicago, too, which makes me kind of sad, but at the same time I'm happy because I'm with Pete again.
Pete brings me back to my hotel around 10:45. He walks me to my room and he holds my hand and his bony, calloused fingers feel so good tangled with my own. He doesn't look hungover at all, the lucky bastard. I ask if he's coming with Patrick and me and he says yes. I tell him okay and I'll see him then and I give him a hug.
Pete sneaks a kiss onto my mouth with a mischievous grin. I roll my eyes and play it off as not caring, but I'm freaking out internally and he knows. So he kisses my lips again, staying a little longer.
"You better go," I murmur against his mouth.
"I should," he says. "But I won't." He takes my room key and slides it, opening the door and pushing me inside.
In this moment I want to stay with him forever.
My face rests in the crook of his neck and he's rubbing my back and it's soothing and comforting. We don't talk, but we don't really need to. We never really have.
At some point Pete decides he needs to go. I don't want him to, and I tell him this. He smiles at me sweetly, taking me in his arms again. He kisses my forehead in a fatherly way and tells me to shower and get dressed, we're going to his house to make tacos. I jump out of bed and scramble to get an outfit together. Pete watches me with an amused expression from the bed. I give him a wave as I enter the bathroom and leave him on the bed with that stupid smile on his face. The one I haven't seen in years.
We get to Pete's house and it's big and the inside is messy because he never has time to clean. At least, that's what he's telling me. I personally think he's just too lazy. His dogs jump on me and I laugh and pet them before Pete takes them outside and I get the taco stuff ready. He comes back and we make tacos and it's fun and they come out pretty damn good.
After we eat I say I want to take the dogs for a walk, so Pete says okay and puts them on the leashes, giving me the younger one and taking my hand in his. We walk around his neighborhood for an hour or so and it's really peaceful. I tell him how there's nowhere like this for me to walk in New York and he tells me I should visit more often. I say I will.
I'm cleaning Pete's house that night and I stumble upon the Baby Boy's room. It's painted light blue and white and he has a racecar bed. I pick up his toys strewn around the floor, all colorful and plastic, and throw them into the plastic bin beside his closet. Then I sit down in the rocking chair. I don't notice, but this room makes me smile. I hear Pete calling my name and I tell him I'm in the Baby Boy's room. He walks in and he's smiling at me. I ask why he's so smiley and he says it's what happens when I'm around. I just laugh and take his hand in mine and he pulls me up from the rocking chair, asking if I want wine. I say sure and we go downstairs.
This wine is white and it's stronger and after each glass I taste it in the back of my throat. Pete pours my fifth glass and I watch the pale-gold liquid swirl around. He has out his Blackberry now and he's drinking and texting and it's probably not the best combination but I don't stop him. "You're having lunch with Patrick tomorrow," Pete tells me, looking up from his phone. Not even two seconds later Patrick sends me a text telling me we have sushi plans at one o'clock.
I say, "Okay," and I want to ask if Pete's coming, but I don't.
"I didn't realize that not having my Blackberry on for two days meant I dropped off the face of the planet," Pete laughs, and I laugh too. He shows up in my Twitter feed a minute later:
petewentz: Dropped off of the face of the planet but the girl's magic, I swear.
I want to lean over and kiss him square on the mouth, but that could just be the wine.
evelyn1614: @petewentz good wine. let's get weird.
Pete's laughing at me as he pours us more wine. This is my sixth glass and my last, I've decided so I resort to playing with my iPhone as soon as I drink the last drop. Pete's tweeting like crazy about nothing in particular.
"Hey, stop tweeting and talk to me." I'm giggling even though I'm trying to be serious.
Pete tosses his Blackberry on the love seat on the other side of the room."What do you want to talk about?"
"I dunno."
Pete's laughing. "Let's watch a movie!" He's excited, so I don't say no and we end up watching Tangled on Netflix. I find it way funnier than I should, but it's okay because I need a good laugh.
I spend the night at Pete's house except I don't really sleep, tossing and turning in the guest bed all night. We're both awake by seven thirty throwing up. Pete's done far sooner than I would've anticipated and now he's sitting behind me, holding my hair from my face. It feels like we're teenagers all over again. And it brings back weird memories of Pete and me passed out in my bed after nights of parties and drinking and bands and headaches.
It makes me miss Chicago.
Pete and I make pancakes after I finish throwing up and I brush my teeth. They're perfect and fluffy and have lots of chocolate chips. This makes me think of Chicago, too, which makes me kind of sad, but at the same time I'm happy because I'm with Pete again.
Pete brings me back to my hotel around 10:45. He walks me to my room and he holds my hand and his bony, calloused fingers feel so good tangled with my own. He doesn't look hungover at all, the lucky bastard. I ask if he's coming with Patrick and me and he says yes. I tell him okay and I'll see him then and I give him a hug.
Pete sneaks a kiss onto my mouth with a mischievous grin. I roll my eyes and play it off as not caring, but I'm freaking out internally and he knows. So he kisses my lips again, staying a little longer.
"You better go," I murmur against his mouth.
"I should," he says. "But I won't." He takes my room key and slides it, opening the door and pushing me inside.
♠ ♠ ♠
:)