Busted Lips and Lust-Bruised Hips

Please. Come out and see us. Don't make me set Hemingway on you to change your mind.

Sorry, sweetheart, that restraining order you had placed on me hasn't run out yet. Oh, and Hemingway would never attack me. He's a lover not a fighter.

Just like his owner but I'm prepared to put up a battle this time to make you change your mind.

I'm afraid that if you keep sending me such abusive text messages I shall have to report you for harrassment.

I apologise. I'm truly, deeply, tragically sorry.

You're not really, are you?

No, I just thought I'd play polite in a ploy to get you to like me.

Sorry, Wentz, it doesn't work. I know you too well.

Pete grinned at the text message displayed on his screen before setting his phone beside him in resignation. He'd been drained of every argument that he owned in his fingertips and still the "No" remained. If there was only one thing that he had learnt over the months, it was that Amaya was stubborn underneath all her concern and observance. In his thoughts, his head drifted back onto his pillow while his eyes were coaxed around the room, pausing to rest on the calendar that he had fastened on the back of his door. The days were registered and forgotten with a thickened cross, the months each marked off as they dropped between his fingers as he attempted to savour them.

It had been five months since the band had been in New York, just the right amount of time to slot in the madness, the memories and the mayhem that had happened. Fall Out Boy had allowed themselves a brief pause to catch their creative breaths before opting to seclude themselves in the studio again to mould the follow-up to "From Under The Cork Tree". It was an enjoyably hectic time for them all as they attempted to push musical boundaries further than they had before. And the stress and anxiety that came with it was a complimentary extra. Still, since his spontaneous visit to Amaya, Pete had gradually begun to trust and confide in her until she became the shoulder on which his thoughts and tears fell upon, usually in equal doses, sometimes together. She had managed to maintain her promise of being the impartial outsider and often spoke in sharpened tones of honesty that Pete required to keep himself steady. The cities between them only seemed to bother the duo in occasional bouts of loneliness, which Pete found himself suffering from as his fingers dropped to the keys. He had been striving to persuade Amaya to visit the band for months to strengthen her existence, Joe's brief glimpse of her on New Year's Eve keeping her from being an illusion to the others. Despite his best persuasive techniques, Amaya remained rigid in her decision, and in her area code. And, of course, there was still Jeanae. Despite the couple's initial thoughts, they had managed to bypass their doubts and find some place that kept them rigid while their hearts slipped over insecurities. It had taken them months to reach that point but it had gradually gotten so that they felt secure wrapped around each other's thoughts, bound in some sense of middle ground that provided them comfort from the world throwing pebbles at their window. Their blatant dedication to each other and painstaking shows of affection were enough to silence the criticism that coated spectators' tongues. Instead, others were content to just watch the couple seek security with each other almost as much as they were content to find it in one another.

Almost as if his thoughts of her sculpted her into his presence, Pete's phone buzzed him back into reality with his thoughts cramped with excitement.

Hey you. I'd love to say that this was a social text but I'm feeling too honest to let you believe that. I miss you. Is there a slot for me in your schedule tonight? I love you. J.

Pete smiled at the screen as if it was actually Jeanae. His fingers worked quick with a reply as he felt overloaded with relief at his loneliness being cured by the one person never far from his mind.

There's always a slot cleared out for you. Just before the watershed so we can keep it as innocent as you want. The door's always open. I love you too.

Jeanae slotted against Pete's side, her head weighted against his shoulder as the pictures flickered and faded on the television screen. Pete strained to focus on the plotline in an attempt to understand the movie but he was too consciously aware of Jeanae beside him, the warmth of her body down his one side, her breath glazing across his skin, scented like a secret. He moved slightly as she shuffled more comfortably into him, pressing herself closer when there was no more space left between the pair to bridge. Her expression was entranced as she followed the narrative with a naive dedication and Pete watched as it morphed with the emotions she was provoked into feeling. Smiling affectionately, he let one finger slide along her arm, savouring the friction that their skin produced, and he noted as Jeanae felt it too, her own smile developing across her face. "You could never focus for long." she mumbled, her voice thick with drowsiness.

"Can you blame me when you're here?" Pete asked her, leaning back as Jeanae pulled away from him.

"Smooth." Jeanae approved with a smile that never faded as she touched her lips to his.

"I try." Pete replied softly as soon as his mouth had enough room to move. His hands tracked their way to Jeanae's face as his eyes unfurled in slow contentment and he could feel her smile grow beneath his fingertips. "Have I told you that I loved you today?" he asked, watching Jeanae's expression slide into glowing affection.

"Yeah," Jeanae replied gently. "A couple of times actually."

"I could tell you again," Pete suggested, letting his hands drift down Jeanae's arms. "Just so you don't forget."

Kneeling on the couch, Jeanae stretched back to glance at Pete from a slight distance. "Or you could show me," she told him. "That's a different way."

Pete didn't protest as Jeanae leant forward, her lips sealing over his as her fingers raked through his hair. Instead, his hands helped her situate herself a little more comfortably as his mouth moved against hers with silent passion. He glided his fingertips down her back, resting them against the sliver of skin that revealed itself beneath the edge of her t-shirt as she moved. Just as their lips began to work with a more fervent energy, an unmistakeable ring tore them away from each other, causing Pete to move away with curses pressing against his instead. Picking up his phone, Pete shook his head to rid himself of the disbelief coursing through him. "Hello." he greeted, attempting to keep his tone placid as he crossed the room.

"Hey, Pete." Amaya replied. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Pausing in the doorway to glance back at Jeanae as she curled her body around a cushion, a stuffed substitute for him, Pete sighed. "No," he told her, mentally cursing his politeness. "No, you're not."

"Oh good." Amaya answered with an onslaught of relief. "I just...um...I wanted to call and...I wanted to say I've changed my mind. I will come and visit. I mean...why the hell not?"

Pete frowned at Amaya's clipped and uncertain sentences, his mind tuning into her frequency to listen for subtle clues as to why. "Amaya," he started in a level tone. "Have you been crying?"

"No," Amaya told him with a laugh that rang as watery as her voice. "Of course not...so when do you want me to come out? I'm free anytime."

"What's wrong?" Pete questioned, his anxiety levels washing above his head.

"Nothing," Amaya insisted. "I'm...I'm fine. Look, when..."

"Amaya." Pete stated in a sharpened tone.

"Pete, please. Everything is cool. Just...give me a date or something."

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not!" Amaya exclaimed, her voice rich with aggravation. There was a pause as Amaya grappled with what remained of her composure before the receiver echoed with a burdened sigh. "Look, I really have to go. Give me a text or something with a date. Just...make it soon, ok?"

Before the question Pete was going to ask had found its way from his mind to his lips, the dial tone droned in his ear and he had to compromise with a puzzled glance at his phone. His mind dipped into overtime with confusion as he trailed back into the room where Jeanae waited, the cushion forgotten. She raised her eyes at the sound of Pete's footsteps, a smile lighting its way onto her face. "Who was it?" she asked.

"Amaya." Pete replied as he approached.

Jeanae's expression became screened and unreadable almost instantaneously. "That waitress?" she questioned, omitting the disdain from her voice.

"Yeah." Pete answered, sinking beside Jeanae. "She's coming out to visit." he explained.

Jeanae didn't respond and Pete couldn't discern if it was a work of his imagination or an element of truth but, as his arm wound around her shoulders, she felt wooden beneath his touch.