FicWad

"I Found Out About You"

I walked into my new favorite establishment, an Irish bar in the only area of the county with the population to legitimately call itself a city. My best friend, Fawn, was already there with her, and over time, becoming my own friend, Jess. Someone was at the far end of the bar which was rarely occupied by locals, a guy with his dark head on his arms on top of the bar. He looked asleep. Ben, the bartender, was a really nice guy and would only kick someone out when it was this dead on a Wednesday night if they were puking. Actually, he’d get their number, call them a cab, pay the cab, and then call them a few minutes later to make sure they made it home. That’s just the kind of nice guy he was.

“Hey, Ben. We’re starting the night with some honey whiskey shots!” I walked to the end of the bar as Ben readied the shots. I shook the guy supposedly sleeping. He wasn’t, he was just resting. “You want a shot? I’m buying you a drink man.” That’s when I noticed who he was.

Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz the Third.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked rather rudely. He raised an eyebrow, not at all amused.

“You know who I am, I take it?” he slurred slightly.

“Do you want a drink? I’m having boy troubles and I’m going to get shitfaced.”

“NIX! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING TO THE GUY?” Fawn suddenly shouted at me. I groaned.

“World’s best cockblock. I should really make her some business cards…” I mused so only he could hear me as I tugged him to a bar stool next to mine. The bar stools were large square ones that would easily fit two people on one, as long as they were both small like me.

I decided to answer her with a “NOTHING, FAWN! This guy looked lonely, so I thought I’d help him make friends. He isn’t from here.”

She responded by grabbing the sides of my face, covering my ears and pulling me into her shoulder while she spoke at him over me. “Nix doesn’t realize she can come off as a desperate whore when she adopts guys at bars.” I broke away from her grasp and looked to see his reaction. He clearly did not understand why I was friends with this girl.

I rolled my eyes and pushed his shot glass to him. I tapped my shot against his and against Jess’ and slammed it. I heard the door open and bang shut behind me and crossed the fingers of my unoccupied hand that it wasn’t who I kind of hoped it was.

Kyle sat on a stool a couple down from Pete, and the curve of the bar allowed me to see him well out of my peripheral vision. Kyle was my current boy problem. We weren’t together but had sex often and I liked him and he treated me like shit. However, he was jealous of my friends, 99% of which are guys. Here was my chance to really get back at him. I got my phone out and texted a good half dozen of my best guy friends.

Ben set a bottle of Bud Light in front of Kyle, and I turned to Pete since Fawn and Jess had taken out their current crocheting projects and were talking about their screwed up lives. Well, Fawn’s was screwed up but Jess had good insight on what that was like.

“Maybe I should introduce myself? I’m Phoenix, but for the love of God call me Nix,” I started lamely. Kyle was watching me out of the corner of his eye, trying to make it look like he was ignoring me but I knew better. I leaned in really close to Pete, lightly touching the side of his face and whispered, “I’m not going to blow your cover. But what are you doing here?”

Kyle’s jaw tightened and a frown began to take shape. I ordered a Spotted Cow and got one for Pete too. We sipped our beers and he told me that Ashlee just divorced him and was trying to keep Bronx for an extended period of time.

“I probably won’t be able to see him until we get it settled in court,” he explained darkly. Then he noticed my hoodie. “Hey…” he traced the blue and green plaid outline of the bartskull on my black hoodie.

“And,” I continued, standing up and showing him my embroidering job on the back pockets of my jeans. More bartskulls.

“Dude. That’s fucking awesome!” He high-fived me. “I didn’t think anybody still wore my shit!”

“I LOVE Clandestine Industries-anything!” I said. “I have a tie, socks, drinking glasses, shirts, running shorts…I’m really sad to see it’s kind of dying. And don’t even ask about my FOB stuff, that’s a whole other wardrobe.” Now I had Kyle’s full-on attention. He’s trying to figure out who this guy is.

“Wow. I’m really kind of blown away. In this little town? Just…wow. You know, I might be drunk, but I think it’s a good idea. You should model for the line. I’m serious,” he added quickly, noticing the disbelief on my face. This caught Fawn’s attention now.

“Just who the hell are you?” she asked. She knew something was up. I bit my lip—a nervous habit of mine when I was hiding something—and looked at Pete.

“This is Pete,” I said simply. She narrowed her eyes and I knew I wasn’t going to get away with that. Pete put his hand on my arm in an “it’s ok” gesture.

“I’m Pete Wentz.” The name didn’t really register right away, and you knew she didn’t know who that was off hand.

“Who?” she demanded.

“FROM FALL OUT BOY! OH MY GOD, FAWN!” I burst impatiently. “Like, my favorite band in the history of my life until I die?? The band I never shut up about and listen to 24/7??” The door opened then before an awkward silence could set in and I leaped on the guy who walked in. “RYAN! My saving grace!”

Ryan chuckled. “Well jeez I didn’t think you’d be that happy to see me.” He returned the hug and set me back on my stool. I was getting buzzed already. Cue the hyper adorableness.

“What do you want, my friend?” I asked Ryan. He answered with “whatever you’re having” and went over to the jukebox to select music. Within seconds “Thnks Fr Th Mmrs” blared throughout the bar. Ben turned the volume down a touch and Ryan came back to his seat between Fawn and I.

“You like Fall Out Boy, right?” he teased me. He didn’t recognize who was sitting behind me. I pulled the collar of my shirt down to show him my collarbones where the Fall Out Boy ribbon banner logo of “From Under the Cork Tree” was tatted.

“You fucking know it!” I cried. I looked at Pete. He extended his hand and introduced himself to Ryan. I had to explain who he was and Ryan kept saying “No way, no fucking way!!”

A few more of my friends showed up and we all ended up getting spent. I didn’t have to pay for my tab—I never did—since my friends threw so many bills onto the bar to cover theirs and mine, and Pete threw a generous bill down and, arm in arm, we left.

I was pissed. I had left my phone unattended on the bar for two minutes when I went to the bathroom and I came back to Kyle going through it. That was not part of the agreement. We slept together, we weren’t in a relationship; he had no right to do that. Pete grabbed it away from him before I could, and gave it back to me and I drunkenly called him my hero and declared we were leaving.

My phone went off in a chorus of “Sugar, We’re Goin’ Down” and I checked my newest text. Kyle was asking where we were going. It took forever to respond since I was so drunk and I misspelled half of the words but I told him we were going across the bridge to The Red Room but what the fuck does he care?

“What the hell was up with your friend Fawn?” Pete finally had a chance to ask. I heaved an epic, drunken sigh.

“I know she comes off as a huge bitch, but it’s only because I tend to do a lot of stupid shit. She was friends with my older half-sister, who’s…um…how do I put this…a complete mess of a human being. I mean, she is really messed up. And Fawn doesn’t want to see me screw myself up and end up like her. Basically. But really, she is my bestest friend.” I tended to ramble when I was drunk, and I realized this and shut my mouth before I kept on.

It was a warm night for March, and in the Wisconsin peninsula of Door County that means about thirty-five degrees, but the breeze on the bridge off the ice on the canal was bitter cold. I snuggled into Pete’s pea coat and he wrapped his arm around me, half holding me upright as I struggled to walk straight.

“I’m sorry. I never drink like this. That guy who was sitting next to you with the Bud Light is my boy problem I was trying to drink away.”

“Really? The asshole who gave me the evil eye the whole night? He didn’t even acknowledge you!” he exclaimed, exasperated.

“Yeah. He gets so jealous of other guys but refuses to date me or even admit to his friends that he’s sleeping with me. So fuck him.”

“You don’t need that. Trust me, I’ve met a lot of assholes but he doesn’t even deserve to talk to you, let alone use you.” We had reached the end of the bridge and the large yacht-building warehouse to the left of us became a windbreak, resulting in a much warmer climate. I started to pull away, no longer needing Pete to keep me warm, and he pulled me back and leaned in, and as smashed as I was, I knew what was going to happen.

I let him kiss me for a few moments before breaking away and nuzzling the collar of his coat. He smelled sooo good. “I can’t. I…just…”

“It’s okay, I understand. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, no, no! I like you. A lot. And I’m drunk, and you’re drunk, and I have done a lot of stupid shit before and you are getting divorced and this just isn’t something we should be doing right now. I don’t like meeting someone and having a one night stand and never hearing from them again. I get that from Kyle, but I don’t want that to happen with you.” He hugged me and said he felt the same way. I heard a car cross over the metal grate on the bridge behind me and looked over my shoulder to see Kyle’s black S10 drive by us, presumably heading to the Red Room, seeing how he loves keeping tabs on me.

We walked a couple more blocks and entered the bar. The owner was bartending and greeted me warmly, asking how my dad was. I answered that he was okay and was working overtime at the shipyard that night, and we started talking about MMA. Pete ran his hand over my thigh, staring down Kyle at the end of the bar by the pool table. A few more guys walked in and greeted Kyle and they started playing pool.

My phone went off and I read Kyle’s text of “you gonna fuck that guy?” Anger flared up in me and I shot a look at him, setting my phone on the bar so Pete could read the message. He picked my phone up and responded, making sure Kyle saw who was texting him back. His Cheshire grin was way more sexy in person.

I pulled his head down by mine and placed our foreheads together as I murmured, “I’m hopelessly attracted to you, and it’s gonna fuck me over, but I don’t even care. How old are you?” He chuckled and replied he was thirty-two. “I’m twenty-one. Is that a problem for you?” He shook his head and patted my hair, our faces still inches apart. “But no sex! Pinky swear?” I offered the mentioned digit and he took it in his own. “Thanks. I’m starting to sober up, and now I’m just tired.”

“What the fuck is this?” Kyle decided to acknowledge me finally and thrust his phone in my face. I read the text that Pete had sent him from my phone and started laughing hysterically.

“Oh my god, Pete, I love you. Where are you staying? I need to crash.” Pete obviously had a much higher alcohol tolerance as he threw a fifty on the bar and picked me up and carried me out the front door. He set me down and hunched down somewhat so I could climb on his back. I protested, insisting I was going to crush him.

He mocked me with a “Oh yeah, all eighty pounds of you?” I reluctantly got on and he piggy backed me back across the bridge back to the first bar where his black Mercedes S65 AMG was in the parking lot, right next to my beat-up geo metro.

I pointed out my car to him and he laughed. “What did you do to it?”

“Hit a deer. It rolled over my car and ran away so apparently my car took all the damage,” I answered as I slid in the passenger seat. My phone wouldn’t stop going off and all the messages were from Kyle. “You really got under his skin.”

Pete’s face split into that grin again. “Good.” They drove for a few minutes in silence when Pete blurted out “I’m really glad you’re not one of those crazy fan girls.” I laughed.

“I don’t know, I do have a Fall Out Boy tat.”

“Well, that’s cool. I mean you didn’t try to cut a lock of my hair to sell on ebay or anything. You haven’t taken any pictures or been weird. You’ve only been honest and drunk and cute. And you don’t even want to sleep with me, and that’s really awesome.”

“Haha. It’s not that I don’t want to sleep with you, it’s that I used to sleep around, a lot. And I finally realized that it didn’t make them like me. It just prompted them to use me at their discretion while they pursued other girls more worth their time, and that made me feel like shit. And now I’m really self-conscious because I can’t figure out why I’m not worthwhile. Then I turned 21 and I’m out in bars all the time, I’ve completely lost myself.” Pete listened sadly and his hand found mine.

“I think you’re great. You haven’t done anything that makes me think otherwise.”

“Thanks. You know, this is crazy just because I’ve always been a Patrick fangirl…” I mused with a grin. Thankfully, he didn’t take offense and laughed. We pulled into the parking lot of a really nice resort. “Nice. Definitely one of the better places to spend time here.”

He agreed. “My suite overlooks the bay of Green Bay. It has a hot tub and everything.” His car beeped as he locked it and we helped each other into the elevator, too exhausted to climb stairs. When we reached the third and top floor he found his room and opened the door and carried me to the bed and threw me down. I undid my jeans and pulled them off and discarded them on the floor and removed my hoodie, shirt, and bra leaving me in a tank top and boyshorts. I didn’t even care at this point. I left my phone in my purse in the car. Let Kyle freak out. Fuck his bullshit.

Pete had also stripped down to his boxer briefs and pulled me to him under the expensive and soft sheets. “It feels good to cuddle again,” I whispered throatily.

“You don’t cuddle with your fuck buddy?” he asked, nuzzling my neck.

“Nope.”

“That’s a damn shame…for him.”

He squeezed me a little tighter as we both let ourselves pass out into deep slumber.