Everything is going great. Pete and Patrick are finally together and nothing is going to mess it up. Right? Written by Ruth!
His white toothy grin was still intact after the quick swim. I placed my head back on his chest, a smile spreading on my lips. “This is perfect,” he sighed, the words rumbling in his chest. “Yeah,” I agreed listening to his heartbeat; my own personal lullaby. I pressed my lips to a heated patch of skin on his chest, his heart pulsing underneath my lips. “'Tricks,” he called lazily, his fingers moving up and down my back. “Yeah?”
He moved up, propping himself with his elbows. I heard Pete’s chuckle when I groaned at the disturbance. “Come on, we have to get going,” he started to stand as I sat on the blanket, missing his warmth on my cheek. “Do we have to?” I knew there was a slight whine in my voice but it’s too soon to go. “Yes, Patrick,” he knelt down on both knees in front of me, sitting on the hot golden sand. He leaned forward and pressed his salted lips to mine.
It ended all too soon when he started to stand again. “I have sand for thighs,” that beautiful smile took its place on his face again. He extended his hand out to me and I took it, slipping my fingers through his. We walked through the sand and down the street to my house. It felt impossible with my wet heavy clothes weighing me down but we eventually managed to get to the two story house.
We both stumbled into my room, his lips sewed onto my neck, his tongue rubbing over my skin. “I’d eat you up-- if I could...” Pete growled in my ear as I turned around in his arms. “I would let you but I’m salty and so are you.”
Pete laughed as he pulled away. “Can I take a shower here?” he asked, throwing his shirt on the floor. “Of course,” I grabbed the towel off of my chair; the one that we shared at may countless sleepovers. Pete shed his clothing, stripping down to his red boxers before heading into the bathroom. Hearing the water run, I started to strip from my wet clothes, bundled them up and went downstairs to put them in the washer. I found a dry T-shirt to wear while the washer clanked with full force.
I wasn’t surprised to find myself smiling at the washer, or the stairs, or even at my dirty reflection in the broken mirror on the wall. This was too good to be true, having Pete here and never leaving my arms and it not being fucked up. I’ve waited for this ever since I’ve met him in the 6th grade. I’m not letting him go. The washer’s ‘ding’ brought me out of my thoughts telling me that it was done. I placed my clothes in the dryer and went upstairs to tell Pete to hurry up; the fish need water too. Once I reached the top of the stairs, the bathroom door was open and unoccupied.
The door to my room was wide open and a wet Pete with a towel hanging around his thin hips was standing over my dresser. The fact that my towel can be so easily removed from his waist almost gave me a heart attack but I let out a deep breath and walked toward him. “Hey,” he looked over his shoulder as I greeted him; the corners of his mouth slightly moved upward, the only part that moved. This isn’t a good sign. As I neared him; muttering to himself but the words were clear in my ears: “does your husband know the way that the sunshine gleams on your wedding band?”
Mine and Joe's photo booth picture was in his hands, his intrigued brown eyes only on the last picture of the black and white strip. I cleared my throat, making him place the strip face down on the dresser, and filled the silence. “So… you’re all clean?” his award winning smile quickly occupied his wet face. “Clean as a whistle,” he placed his hands on his hips, striking a pose similar to Superman’s, but with less clothing. I couldn’t help but laugh. Pete was a dork, but he’s my dork. Down stairs the bell rang and we both sighed at the interruption. “I’ll get that...” I sighed, scratching my head which was still damp from the sea water.
Looking out from the peep hole in the door, my heart beat raced. I swallowed loudly, trying hard to dissolve the new formed lump in my throat before I opened the door. “Tricks! There you are! We’ve been looking for you,” I smiled at the two boys who were standing on my front step. “Hey Joe. Hey Andy,” the younger boy in front of me entered the house, placing his fingers on my chin and pressing his lips to mine. Andy turned his head away from us as I looked at him. Joe stiffened a couple of seconds later and pulled away from me. “What?” I asked as I saw his blue eyes narrowed in the direction of the stairs. I turned to see Pete on the steps, standing and staring at us. “Wentz.”
Joe growled. his hand finding and gripping mine tightly; protectively. “Joe,” was all Pete said to him.
The intensity between them was noticeable and Andy moved closer to see his old friend.
“Wow,” he said. “What a lovely reunion.”