I won't suffer, be broken, get tired, or wasted.
A smile that stretched from ear to ear seemed to overtake his other facial features. Our legs intertwined beneath the red flower printed comforter as our hands laced together resting on his chest, and I could feel every rapid heartbeat. I stared straight up to the white-washed ceiling, but I could feel his gaze on me.
"Are you smiling?" He said with a slight hint of laughter. I unlaced my fingers with his and wrapped my arms around his middle tightly, taking my eyes off the ceiling and focusing on his big goofy grin.
"Are you?" I said sarcastically.
His hand ran through my hair pushing back brown strands of bangs that hung over my eyes. "Yes. Yes I am." He stroked his hand gently against my cheek.
"That was a rhetorical question."
"Are you sure?" His eyebrow raised a little.
"Don't start Peter." I was becoming slightly annoyed.
"What am I starting?" he pushed.
"Don't," I warned.
I let him go and pushed him away, half meaning it, "Peter!"
"Aaryn!" he mocked, laughing at the kick he was getting out of annoying me. Leave it to him to ruin a perfect moment. I leaned off the bed and reached for my shirt and pulled it on. "What are you doing?" his tone seemed more, 'You're not going anywhere," more than concerned that I was getting dressed.
"Getting dressed," I said simply, as I wrapped the white sheet around my waist to look for my pants that were either by the foot of the bed or the door. I couldn't remember, things were such a blur.
"For what?" he said as he sat up and messed up his hair even more.
My pants were at the door. I didn't think I got them off that fast. "I'm going back to the venue." I picked up my pants and headed to the bathroom.
"I'm sorry!" he yelled as I closed the bathroom door.
I rolled my eyes. Now he's sorry. "You should be."
"That's nice." I looked into the mirror as I pulled on my pants. My hair was a mess.
"Don't be like that Aaryn."
I laughed. "I'm not mad Pete." I quickly tied my hair into a ponytail. I see his shadow standing against the door.
"Then don't go yet," he pleaded.
I shrugged as I leaned up against the door. I could feel the pressure from his body against it on the other side. "I have to. Syd is gonna worry, and is probably getting attacked by a million of your fans at the merch booth."
Pete let out a hoarse chuckle. If he was getting a cold, and gave me one, I was killing someone. "She can handle it."
"No she can't! She nearly died last week when I left her alone since I was feeling 'dizzy.'
"Can't you feel dizzy again?!"
"No. Plus shouldn't you be doing important band duties?"
"I should be doing a lot of things, but I'd rather be doing you."
"Did you just compliment me?"
"Open the door and I'll tell you."
I sighed. "Do you have to make things difficult?"
He jiggled at the doorknob a little. "I'm not the one who went to the bathroom and is too lazy to open a door and talk to me."
"I like this barrier between us," I said as I looked up at the door frame.
I could see Pete making one of his puppy faces with his bottom lip sticking out and big eyes. I hated those faces. I quietly unlocked the door.
"I don't," he mumbled.
I opened the door a little and his hazel chestnut eyes met with mine through the space I opened. I bit my lip, out of nervous habit or maybe out of the fact he thought that looked hot to him when I did it.
He smiled widely again. "I love you."
I quickly shut the door and pressed my back against it again. And I could hear him mumble a shit and stepped away from the door.
"Sorry," he said.
I felt my heart race. I hated when he said those words to me. "It's okay," I mumbled. "You didn't mean it."
I could hear him sigh loudly. "Yeah, I don't," he lied.
There was a long period of silence, as I slid down slowly to the ground. My watch could be heard ticking, and light drips of water coming from the broken shower head echoed in the badly lit bathroom. I picked at the lifting carpet and waited for Pete to start talking again, but the silence remained.
"Pete?" I caved.
I stood up and unlocked the door quickly peering through the tiny space I left open to see. The room was a mess, but empty. I opened the door fully and stepped into the bedroom or maybe it was the living room. Empty. He left. Great.
I went over to the side of the bed where my bag dropped from the bed as we rushed to clear it off as fast as we could from objects preventing us from going under the sheets. Picking it up I looked into the mirror above the bed. Making a dirty face I took a deep breath.
"I hate you," I said to my reflection.
And that was the complete truth. I am an idiot, yet he still comes back. Which I'll never fully understand.