a little talk about death leads to other things...
I lifted an eyebrow. "I figured you'd go hang out with the guys."
Pete smiled. "Yeah, I probably will. But right now I don't feel like it."
"And you'd rather stay in here with a dead person?" I asked with a laugh.
"Hmm... well, I wasn't thinking of it like that. But, yeah, if that's how you want to put it." Pete said, laughing himself.
Ok, the girl inside of me kicked in. He just said he'd rather stay in here with me than go hang out with the rest of the guys.
That's some pretty sweet shit, if you ask me.
"You know what I feel like doing?" I asked suddenly.
"What?" Pete replied.
"Taking a shower." I said, my face falling into a pout. "But that's a little out of the question, and that sucks ass."
"Aw poor you. You know, that is a really good idea..." He teased, and with that he got up and started taking off his shirt.
"Alright, uber asshole, you don't have to rub it in." I said, sticking my tongue out at him.
In reply he gave me a gorgeous smile and took off his shirt, throwing it too the floor.
I felt my cheeks burn. "Do you have to take that off in front of me? I am a teenage girl, remember. And you are Pete Wentz."
He laughed. "So you must be enjoying it, huh? So how old are you anyways?"
"Eighteen hell yes. I'm legal to do whatever I... wait, ok that doesn't matter anymore. I was legal to do whatever." I said. "But I was never allowed to use that right..." I trailed off, not really wanting to get into the subject of my life.
Pete walked over and sat beside me, still shirtless. "You alright?" He asked.
I looked up at him, and his face showed concern. I smiled, just so he wouldn't worry. "Of course."
"You sure? You look all... I dunno... depressed." He said.
"I'm fine, but thanks for asking." I muttered. I wanted to get away from that subject, why couldn't he just smile and go on?
"Ok... only if you say so." He said.
"I do." I teased. I smiled, hoping to get one from him. Ha! It worked. He let a small smile escape, but that was good enough for me.
"You know, I don't get you." He voiced.
"Why's that?" I asked.
"You're eighteen, so you were in your senior year at high school, right?" He asked.
I nodded. "And...?"
"Why didn't you... well, I don't really want to make you feel uncomfortable... never mind." He mumbled.
"Hell no. You got me curious. What were you going to ask?" I replied without thinking. Of course, then I regretted that. He was probably going to ask about my death.
"Why didn't you just wait until your year was over and then get the hell outta there? Why kill yourself when you had so little time left?" Pete asked.
I bit my lip. Damn me and my mouth. "Well, I just... I couldn't go back to that place. Not after what they did." I spoke quietly.
"What did they do?" He asked.
I took a deep breath. "They beat me. Knocked me unconscious. Left me on the football field. Without any clothes. I woke up and the coach was running at me with the scariest, maddest face I've ever..." But I broke off, my voice failing.
The memory hurt. And it hurt a lot. I was embarrassed beyond belief. Plus, I was aching because they beat me. And the coach thought I did it on purpose.
"God, I'm sorry... is that the only time they did anything to you?" Pete asked, this time keeping his voice low.
I shook my head. "They tormented me every fucking day. But that... that was too much. On top of everything, that sent me over the edge."
"I'm sorry." Pete said again.
I looked at the floor, a tear sliding down my cheek. Which made me wonder why the hell I could cry, but I didn't have to pee. Then that made me get all sad about not being able to do anything. So that in turn brought a whole bunch of tears. Great.
But I could feel my skin itching, my arm practically begging for a blade. The slit on my wrist suddenly throbbed nastily, causing me to cry out loud.
"You alright?" Pete asked, startled.
I nodded, holding my wrist.
"Yeah.. I dunno what happened, it just... hurt." I finished lamely.
Pete tried to wrap his arm around me, but that just ended up awkward. He slipped right through me, causing a chill to go through us both.
I laughed. "Smooth move, stud."
Pete stuck his tongue out at me. "I was just trying to help."
"You did." I replied simply, causing him to smile.
"Good." Then he leaned forward and kissed my cheek.
"How come I can touch you now but not then?" He asked, apparently surprised to find he could kiss me.
"No idea." I muttered. I was in shock myself. Pete Wentz kissed my cheek.
"Ha ha, did I make you wet yourself in excitement?" He asked, seeing the look on my face.
I flipped him off. "Cocky son of a bitch." I mumbled.
"Yep that's me." He joked, making me laugh.
"Ok, I say let's not talk about your death for a while, ok? I don't like seeing you cry." He suggested.
"Sounds like a plan," I replied, glowing.
Pete Wentz kissed my cheek. Ok, I can die now... Wait. Ha. I'm already dead. That sucks.