Sweat from one night, is more than you can take. Only one fight to avoid your last biggest mistake.
My throat dried, and my fingers dug into my arms as I watched him mutter a shy bye. Then hesitant, a 'you too' before he quickly ended the call. He must've thought I was as dumb as a rock. I glared at him, the dryness turning into a lump in my throat from choking back profanities. He put on one of his fake fan photo smiles, but he knew damn well that I could read right through him. Sometimes I wish I couldn't. Like at times like these, where I didn't know whether to cry or scream.
"Don't even say her name to me," I interrupted, holding my hand up in front of me.
His smile dropped along with his eyes, as well as my lungs into my stomach acids, as I tried to breathe normally but was almost incapable.
"You're overreacting," he seemed to spit at me.
I placed a hand on my chest, leaning back, as if those words were about to knock me over. I was overreacting? He was under reacting.
"I'm sorry Aaryn, but you are."
That knocked the words out of my mouth. Was he just defending a whore? Not to mention, a whore, that shattered, not just his heart, but body, into pieces?
"I can't believe that you're defending HER," I pointed to his phone is his hand. "Of all people," I muttered, rolling my eyes and focusing on the brown tiled floor.
He slid his phone into his front pocket as if I were going to attack it. His face contorted into a nasty frown. I clenched my arms tighter around my chest, fearing my insides were going to spill out and all over everything in a ten foot radius.
"I can't believe YOU are getting mad over ONE phone call," his voice emphasized.
"ONE phone call? Pete, it's AUDRIE!" I yelled, leaning forward in my chair.
A few heads turned at the sound of the commotion. Pete put on another fake smile and sat back nonchalantly in his chair. They smiled back, and turned back to their business.
"Don't start Aaryn," Pete whispered, then let out a hoarse cough.
My jaw dropped for the second time today. Now he was just TRYING to start an argument.
"Don't start Peter? Obviously, I'm the only sensible person sitting at this table right now."
"You're not being sensible, you're just being stupid, and selfish."
I let my arms unravel, feeling like my skin was oozing. I was being selfish? Selfish for what? Caring? I couldn't believe what was happening, in a Starbucks, of all the places.
"Pete," I said almost breathlessly, "are you being serious?" I felt itchiness in my eyes.
"Audrie," I grimaced at the name, "is in the hospital."
"Good," I mumbled.
"FUCK Aaryn, what's your problem?!"
That was the last piece of my patients in my cake. I stood up, towering over him, pressing my hands hard against the brown checkered table. My chair almost tipped over, but gravity caught it in time. The same people turned around to the commotion, but I could care less as Pete put on a reassuring smile to them.
"Don't you think it's SO funny, that when ever you happen to be around New Mexico, something happens to her?!" I said, almost spitting with my words. Pete opened his mouth, his face looking as if I was in trouble now, but he closed it. I was right and he knew it. "So don't you tell me I'm being selfish for caring." Tears brimmed the edges of my eyes, but I slowly blinked them away.
His eyebrows knitted together and his bottom lip ascended into his upper lip. His breathes were short and heavy while his hands clenched into balls.
"I," he took a breath, "don't understand why you hate her so much," he sputtered.
"I don't understand why you don't hate her as much as I do!" My chest was throbbing and heating. The people at the other tables whispered, some mentioning a 'Pete Wentz', but I stood still, towering over him.
Pete stood up, making me back up a little. "I'm going to go see her," his voice was final and stern.
This was completely incredible. Pete started to walk away. I swear to god he was bipolar. His next present would be god damn prozac pills.
"Whatever," I said after him.
"Stop being so selfish Aaryn," he said turning around. "And stop being so jealous."
He stepped outside, slipping the sunglasses onto his face, and jogged down the street, taking his phone out of his pocket and putting it against his ear. I stood, transfixed, as if a tiny clear box was blocking me from going anywhere.
He wasn't even /mine/. He never really was. I was clearly jealous, of something that wasn't even /mine/. But where was she when he overdosed? Getting wasted at some frat party, while I sat in a crowded hospital waiting room, distraught with a hysterical Mrs. Wentz. Who was there to recollect, and re-piece, an almost impossible heart that she shattered? I was there, with glue, tape, and even /ice cream/. Yet, I still happen to come second best to her. I can break my back, stand on my head, carve his name into my arm, and I wouldn't even come close. I was just a fuck friend. I must have a sign on my back saying 'Love Me, I'll Fuck You Real Good.' And to think, I actually thought it could work out this time if I could get around my insecurities. Life wasn't fair. But when was it really meant to be? All I could do was be jealous.
I pushed my bangs out of my face and slid on my white 5 dollar sunglasses. Grabbing my phone, I clenched it tight in my hand. Exhaling deeply, I pushed my hand on the cold door handle, eyes following my actions. Stepping outside the late summer, early fall, sun pressed against my face as a tear rolled down my cheek, but I quickly wiped it away.
I hated New Mexico. I hated myself. I hated Pete. /I hated Audrie/.