From Under the Cork Tree

"I ruined your shirt," Patrick said as soon as their shoot is over. "I'm sorry."

Rae looked at him with a cocked brow, her lips turned up in a smile, "It's okay."

"This dude sweats like no one's business!" Pete joked as he followed behind him. "I think we all ruined your clothes, Rae."

"Well, your label paid for them, so they're essentially yours," Rae shrugged.

"Where'd you get this hat?" Patrick asked, pulling her into a conversation as I went to pack my things away.

I could sense someone watching me, and I honestly knew it was Pete. I chose not to acknowledge him, he's like a spoiled kid wanting attention. Any attention would get him off, so I chose not to give in.

"Who's your boyfriend?" He asked spoke up, plopping himself in the makeup chair.

I looked back at him, taking the eyeliner in my grasp to give him, "Why?"

"I'm curious," he said with a small smile.

I looked him over, noticing he wasn't sweaty or even looked beat, "What did you do out there?"

"Whadda mean?" He chuckled.

"Patrick, Joe 'n Andy are all sweaty, but you aren't...and you're wearing two shirts."

Pete shrugged, laughing; Patrick decided to enlighten me, "Pete is one of those weird dudes who doesn't sweat, so when he pees, it's like all the toxins come out in his piss. It's wicked gross."

I made a face, "Ew."

"I can't help it, I'm one weird dude!" Pete continued to laugh.

I turned back to my things, "So, do you want these eyeliner pencils?"

"Sure," Pete murmured, he used the desk to lean back in the chair. "You never answered my question, Angelus."

I looked back at him, "My boyfriend?"

He hummed, nodding his head, "Yep. I just wanna know who he is. Maybe I know him."

I chuckled, "Maybe, it is a small world. His name is Beatz--John, actually. John Holohan, but everyone calls him Beatz."

"Oh!" Joe spoke up, "You're with Beatz from Bayside?"

"Yeah," I smiled, my mind immediately thinking about Beatz. "We've been together for almost 2 years."

"We played with them before," Pete informed me quietly; he didn't sound upset, nor amused like before. "I didn't think you'd be with a musician."

I raised a brow, "Why, cuz I didn't give in to your little flirts?"

He grinned again, "Ah-ha, no. You just look different...Ivy League kinda girl, is all."

"Well, you shouldn't judge a book by it's cover, Pete."

"Yeah, you're right."

I handed him the pencils, "Here you go. To be honest with you, Pete, you're not my type."

Pete looked so amused with me, like I was some little toy or doll he could play with; "I'm everyone's type! I have a dick."

I shook my head, "You, my friend, are too cocky and a little too ambitious for me."

He rocked in the chair with his foot on the desk, stuffing the pencils in his pocket, "So, I am your friend?"

"Everyone is my friend, as long as you don't piss me off."

He laughed, "I see."

I finished putting my things away and prepared to go get some food; the band all did the same. Their friend Dirty came over with a English bulldog on a leash; the dog immediately drug Dirty over to me, sniffing my leg.

"Down boy!" Pete called, "Down Hemy!"

I cooed at him, and knelt, "Hey there!"

"Sorry," Dirty said, "I think he has a thing for hot girls."

I rolled my eyes, but not directly at him. Pete had come over, taking the leash as I petted Hemy, "She has a boyfriend, dude."

"Hey, doesn't hurt to try."

I didn't pay attention to them as I petted Hemy; he was enjoying it, his tongue wagged out and he knelt on his side, letting me rub his belly, "Aw, you're a good boy, aren't ya? You're so cute, Hemy."

"He isn't bugging you, is he?" Pete knelt too.

"Nah, I think he smells Cupid on me," I said nonchalantly.

"Cupid?"

I looked at Pete, "My dog. He's a corgi, husky mix; he's got little legs and he's vicious."

Pete smiled, "Why'd you name him Cupid?"

"He's got a little arrow shape on his belly near his heart. I thought Cupid would be a cool name. I adopted him when he was just born, he's 4 now."

"This guy is a year old," Pete said, taking over rubbing his belly. "His name is Hemingway...he's my favorite author."

I stood up, Pete followed, causing Hemingway to whine and then come and nudge my leg. I laughed and petted him behind his ears, "He's a little sweetheart. It's hard to believe who his owner is."

Pete scoffed, "I am a sweetheart, you just haven't seen that side of me yet."

"I'm not gonna hold my breath," I said, leaving him and Hemingway.

I heard Pete follow behind me at the buffet, "Hey, why don't you like me?"

Hemingway nudged my leg, I smiled and turned to face Pete, "You slapped my ass."

"I was kidding around," he smiled sheepishly.

"Kidding around like that can cause you to lose your eye, or even your freedom."

Pete sighed, "Okay. Okay, I'm totally sorry. I was just being an asshole, I...I don't know why I did it."

"You were being an asshole, as you said," I smirked.

"Yeah, I was, and I'm really sorry I slapped your ass. You don't havta forgive me, but I think we could be friends...I'm already friends with Beatz," he smiled softly this time around.

I just looked at him, seeing the playfulness and the haziness in his eyes. There was something about him, something that wanted me to forgive him and make amends, be friends. I exhaled, "Okay. But only because your dog is hella cute, and Beatz always tells me to make friends, not enemies."

Pete chuckled, "Beatz is wise."

"Yes, yes he is."


The rest of the day was actually more fun than I had thought it'd be. I was sure that this would be a typical shoot and then we'd be heading home, but Pete and the rest of the band had coax Rae and I to watch them finish up their scene, and then mess around on the golf cart Bob had used to usher them around the area.

I didn't get on the cart because Pete was driving, and he was trying to jump these large dirt piles. I stood back and watched, worried that that idiot would kill himself or Andy or Dirty, who were riding with him. Patrick, Joe, Rae and I laughed and watched, shaking our heads. Bob had put a stop to Pete's shenanigans to get them to a show in New York City.

We said short goodbyes to the band, but of course, Pete, and Hemingway, hung around. Pete looked sad, but I knew he was forcing a pout to make me say something. He was acting more like a puppy than Hemingway.

"Do I get a goodbye hug?" He teased.

"Dude, I barely know you," I chuckled.

"So?" He held his arms out.

"Nope, sorry," I crossed my arms over my chest. "Maybe I'll see you again sometime."

He grinned, "Does that mean I can have your number?"

"No."

"Oh, c'mon! I'm not gonna do anything creepy!"

I rolled my eyes, "Okay, fine. But you're just a friend, no weird sexual texts or phone calls at 3AM, understand?"

He pulled out his phone and handed it to me, I did the same; "Yes, ma'am."

We exchanged numbers in our phones and swapped back. I looked at my screen and saw he put his number under That sexy fucker from fob. I rolled my eyes at him, "You're not funny, Pete."

He waved his fingers at me, tipping them off his head like he had an invisible hat, "I concur."

I flipped him off, watching him laugh and head back to his bus. Rae came over and nudged me, "He's in deep."

"He's dumb."

"He's in love with you," she giggled. "He is cute, but, you know who's cuter? Andy."

I smirked at her, "You have a thing for the straight edge vegan?"

Rae blushed, "Maybe. He's a nice guy and he's cool...we have stuff in common."

I turned, taking Rae with me, "Did you exchange numbers?"

"Yes we did. They're staying in Calabasas, so we'll be able to see each other."

"Just great, I have to see Pete."

"You don't have to," she giggled, "but I will be seeing him; he and Andy are room mates."

"Well, aside from that annoying little man, I hope it works out between you and Andy."

"Me too," she grinned.