Better off as Lovers

I watched as my boyfriend kissed the female for the third time since we'd shown up. With a twinge of jealousy in my gut, I pushed open the door behind me as the director yelled, "Cut!" My phone rang just after I lit a cigarette.

"M'ello?"

"Aryana Noelle, put out that cigarette right now."

"Hi, Mom."

"Why are you smoking?"

"We're shooting the video today, and your son has to kiss that...bitch."

"Oh. Is that why he won't answer his phone?"

"Yeah. Want me to have him call you?"

"Please?"

"Of course. Well, I'm going back inside."

"Alright. I love you, sweetie."

"You, too, Mom. Bye."

I hung up and tossed my cigarette butt on the ground, stomping it out with the heel of my rainbow Chuck Taylor. Peter Wentz came out before I could raise my hand to turn the doorknob.

"Hey, babe."

"Hey. You done for today?"

"Not yet. Smoking?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"How would you feel if you had to watch me kiss some guy I'd only known for five minutes."

"You know you're my one and only."

"I can only hope. Oh, call Mom."

"I will later. I love you, Arya."

"I love you, too."

"Pete? We've only got, like, four more shots to do. Hey, 'Rya."

"Hey, Pat. Go on. Finish this so we can go back to the hotel."

Pete pressed his lips to mine quickly. "I'll be done soon."

I sat on a box for the next three hours, texting my friend Erin. Finally, the director shouted, "That's a wrap!" and Pete bounded over to me. I ignored his presence and responded to Erin's latest message. Once that was finished, I gathered my purse and headed to our car. He followed silently, knowing I was still upset.

"Pete?" I called from the bathroom.

"Yeah?"

"Do you honestly love me?"

He leaned against the doorway, clad in only his trademark skinny jeans, and watched me remove my makeup. "Yes, I honestly love you. Why do you insist on asking that?"

"I'm just making sure."

"Every five minutes? My feelings about you haven't changed since I first said that I love you."

"Well, you're bipolar."

"That doesn't affect how deeply I'm in love with you."

I gazed at him in the mirror and continued brushing my hair. He sighed and walked away. When I'd completed my nightly ritual, I crawled into the bed and patted the mattress; he shook his head.

"I'm gonna go take a shower."

"Okay."

I fell asleep to the sound of running water, cars outside, and the music videos on MTVsuch a lovely mix.

"So how long you gonna be filming? I asked Patrick Stump and Andrewy Hurley the next morning at breakfast.

"Probably all day," Andy replied sympathetically.

"Well, I'm not sticking around for twelve fucking hours."

"Arya, c'mon. What's going on? You've smoked half a pack of cigarettes since you got here two hours ago."

"I'm just... I dunno. Jealous, I guess."

"Why? Pete loves you. Not the girl in the videos."

"That's what he said, but why does and how could he love me? I'm not his type."

"Opposites attract," Patrick said.

Andy added, "Just accept the fact he does."

"I'm gonna go find something to do. Tell Pete for me please."

I pushed away from the table and left the restaurant. An elderly couple glared at the cigarette between my lips, and I rolled my eyes. My phone started screaming an AFI song, and I flipped it open.

From: Erin
hey sweetie. what'cha doin?

not much just left pat and andy going to find something less boring than a vid shoot

"How can a video shoot be boring?"

"It just is. I hate it."

"I'm sorry. If I was there, I'd make it better."

"Of course you would. You're my best friend."

"Woohoo! Even more than Pete?"

"Yep."

"I'm smiling big, just so ya know."

"I figured as much."

"Well, I'd better go. I'm at work, so...yeah."

"Bye. Have fun."

"You, too."

I hung up and put on a pair of sunglasses that I found in the console of my car. Three teenage girls stared as I headed toward the entrance of the mall.

"Aren't you Pete Wentz's girlfriend?"

"Yeah."

"What's it like?"

"Just like being any other guys' girlfriend."

"But he's famous!"

"What's that gotta do with anything? He's human, so it's the same."

I found Hot Topic and searched for hairdye and eyeliner. I ended up purchasing four CDs, the aforementioned items, a notebook, and six t-shirts. All in all, HT gained three hundred and ten dollars.

Pete's gonna kill me.

I carried the bags to the vehicle and drove back to the hotel. My boyfriend was there, watching the television; he smiled at me.

"Hey, babe. Mom said to call her."

"Okay."

"Arya?"

"Hm?"

"Are you mad at me?"

"Of course not. Why?"

"Well, you didn't come to the video shoot."

"I wanted to go shopping."

"I see. Did you have fun?"

"M'yeah."

"I love you!" he shouted as I went into the bathroom.

"Ich liebe dich."

"Hello?"

"Hey, Dad. Is Mom there?"

"Hello, Arya! Yeah I'll go get her. How are you?"

"Can't complain."

"You could, but I'm sure Mom would tell you to shut up."

"Exactly. Here she is. I love you."

"I love you, too, Dad."

"Hi. I take it Pete told you my message?"

"Yep. What'd'cha need?"

"Just to talk."

"Is that all?"

"Aryana Noelle Thomas, do not get that tone with me."

"I'm sorry."

"Did you have a good day?"

"Not really. But they finished the shoot."

"Arya?"

"Hm?"

"Tell Pete to stop whatever bad thing he's doing."

"Pete, Mom says stop doing whatever bad thing you're doing."

"I'm innocent!"

"Yeah, right," I mumbled. "Hey, Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"When is it okay for me to come visit?"

"You're always welcome here."

"Alright. I love you."

"We love you, too. Good-night, sweetie."

Weeks passed before Pete left to go on tour; this left me with nothing to do except wait in our house alone. He'd call daily, but it was never enough. I hadn't realised how much I relied on him to make me feel better.

Then I saw the pictures in the tabloids: him with LindsayslutfaceLohan. I cut every single article and photograph out of the magazines and taped them in a photo album. Eventually, they disappeared only to be replaced with ones of him and Ashlee Simpson. I'd met Ashlee before and hadn't had a problem with her, but now she was itching for trouble.

"Hello?"

"Hey, baby."

"Don't 'hey, baby' me, Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz the third."

"What's wrong?"

"Have you any decency left? Or did fucking around behind my back strip any tangible sense of humanity and morality you were born with?"

"What? I haven't fucked around!"

"Lindsay Lohan?"

"Baby---"

"Don't 'baby' me!"

"That was publicity."

"Ashlee? There was silence on his end. "That's what I thought. God damn it, Pete, I thought you were different."

"I am different."

"Obviously not. Patrick hasn't cheated on Erin. Andy hasn't cheated on Jessika."

"Arya---"

"Whatever, Pete. I'll...I gotta go."

"Aryana, listen to me."

"No. Fuck you. I'm done listening to you."

I slammed my car into gear and sped through town, surprisingly not getting into any wrecks. I stopped in front of the Wentz household and dropped the album on the doorstep, a note attached to the cover:

I hope this explains everything, especially why I can't be with your son anymore. I'll still love you guys as if you were my parents.

Love, Arya ♥

I waved at Pete's mother, who'd came onto the porch while I got back into the vehicle, before driving away to the airport. One hour, twenty missed calls, and thirteen voicemails later, I boarded my flight and sat in a seat near the window. I had no clothes, no carry-on, no luggage. Just a broken heart, a lot of rage, and a ton of damaged love.

The only thing I remember thinking before the world went back was, Ain't this a grand way to leave?

"TONIGHT, AT FIVE-FORTY-SEVEN, families suffered devastating losses. A Delta Airlines plane crashed into the ground after blwing an engine. Only three people survived. A list of the fatalities follows."

Pete scanned the words across the screen, praying he didn't find it. In the bottom right-hand corner, though, was what he wished wasn't there: Aryana Noelle Thomas. Erin let out a loud gasp, and Patrick pulled her close, tears in his own eyes. Andy and Joe fought back the urge to cry. Pete stood and began throwing things at the wall.

"Guys, please leave."

They obliged: the remaining man continued to destroy the items in his house, sobbing, knowing Arya's death was his fault. He didn't pay attention to the house phone ringing, but words coming through his answering machine stopped him.

"Pete, it's me. Arya. I-I-I-I...Oh, my God. I survived. Please come get me. Please, baby, I---"

"Arya?"

"Pete?"

He choked out, "My God, how'd----where are you?"

"Third Trinity Hospital. Emergency room to be exact...in Wisconsin."

"I'm on my way. It'll take a few hours though. I'm driving."

"Okay. Pete?"

"Yes, baby?"

"I love you."

She was curled up, asleep, when he finally reached his destination. He shook her gently, and she opened her hazel eyes with a start.

"Pete, I'm so sorry."

"How could they think you were dead?"

"I'd passed out. But I'm sorry."

"That scared me to death---no pun intended."

"I understand. I'm so, so, so, so terribly sorry."

"Shut up. This isn't your fault. It's mine. If I hadn't cheated on you with Ashlee, this would never have happened."

"Let's just go home."

"Alright. Come on. Oh, babe?"

"Hm?"

"We need to go shopping for new furniture now."