FicWad

"It wouldn't?"

I'd spoke too soon when I'd said that we were lucky Will hadn't come pushing over. I guess giving Dave all the attention, and ignoring Pete in addition, had pushed Pete over the edge. So he'd sent the co-manager of Generation Mod over so he could get it through my thick skull that I'm supposed to be Pete's whore.

Just kidding baout the Pete's whore thing.

Dave and I got off each other (which meant that I just got my head off his shoulder and he released my hips; same difference) and I looked at Will, eyebrow cocked.

"No. Problem?" I asked, crossing my arms. Dave put his hands back on his hips in reaction to my response, I guess it was.

"Yeah, actually." Will looked at Dave. "Can I pry you two apart for about one second?"

Dave still held my hips. "Buddy, go find your own." He whispered in my ear, "Who's the stiff?"

Will cleared his throat. "Co-manager of Generation Mod, I'm William Beckett. Also Michelle's employer, if you even knew her name. Now," he said, grabbing my wrist, "we'll be right back." I followed Will unwillingly (haha, get it?...) to an empty corner of the room, stopping once to look at Dave, who smiled at me again. I smiled back, but Will pulled me away.

"What the hell d'you think you're doing?" he hissed between clenched teeth at me.

I shrugged. "Dancing. What, did Peteyboy send you over here? Is he getting jealous? Oh, I'm sorry that I'm doing my job, which I was doing oh-so-well before you interrupted, by the way." I glared at Will. "Can I go back now? I was actually having fun." I was a bit miffed at both of them, actually. Pete for...not doing anything. And Will for ruining the moment.

Will rolled his eyes at the amount of sarcasm that was dripping from my voice, like sweat dripping from the back of my neck. Stupid nerves.

"I'm just going to ask you one thing," he hissed again.

"What's that?" I asked, pretending to be curious. Instead I picked at my fingernail when he spoke.

"Don't do anything you'll regret later," he warned, then walked away. Dave found his way across the floor a millionth of a second later. He grabbed my wrist and we walked over the floor for a few minutes until he found a crowded corner where it was hard to look for people.

"Hi," he said to me again, smiling and wrapping his arms around me. If I were in a different time (a few weeks ago) and a different place (Pete's arms) I would have thought this was way too forward, but right at the moment, I was enjoying every bit of it.

"He made me mad," I stated, looking into Dave's eyes. His oh so pretty blue eyes.

He frowned and kissed my nose. "Don't be mad," he whispered into my ear. Oh, God, I was a sucker for that. He pulled me closer so I could lean my head back on his shoulder again.

"Before we actually get into something on the dancefloor," he interrupted, making me laugh a little on the inside (whether it was because I wanted to do something on the dancefloor, or that I felt honored he wanted to do something on the dancefloor with me), "do you want to go sit down and talk somewhere?"

I guess the fact that neither one of us actually knew anything about each other was bothering him, too. I agreed and he bought drinks; a beer for him, and a water for me. I excused the fact that I was underage in exchange for just wanting plain old H2O.

We sat down at a table, looking across it at each other. Dave finally opened his mouth and asked, "How old are you?" the same time that I opened my mouth and asked "Why didn't you ask me to dance the first time I saw you?"

We both laughed at the rare occurance of that, and I answered his question with a solid "Eighteen. You?"

I wasn't actually lying too much about it. I turned eighteen on September second, and today was August twentieth.

He looked shocked. "You're only eighteen?"

I blnked worriedly. "Is that a problem?" This was the first time I'd actually had success at a club, besides getting a job at one, and I didn't want anything to screw it up.

"No! No, it's not," he said with a laugh. "You just looked older than that, that's at all."

I nodded, batting my eyelashes subtly, of course. "How old do I look?"

"My age, twenty one, at least," he responded, smiling at me. I felt his knee touch mine under the table, like we were little eighth graders on a first date. I didn't move it; it was sort of a subtle show of affection, one that, unless someone around him had a pair of binoculars, Pete could see.

"And how is the twenty one year old life?" I asked.

Dave answered me with a full-blown report of how he'd lived in Orlando for a few years. He was in a band (no, really? I think everyone's in a band nowadays) and had graduated college a year early.

Not only was he booksmart, he was witty (haha at the usage) and very smooth. It took all of me to restrain myself from attaching my face to his for the time we sat there.

Suddenly it was almost one, and I didn't know where the time had flown. I looked around at quarter until 1:00, and noticed Pete had left. Joe, Patrick, and Andy were laughing with some little punks at the bar; I guess they were asking why Patrick and Joe were there.

Dave spotted my eyes' gaze and stood up, stretching. I followed, but minus the stretching.

"Where did the time go?" Dave asked, laughing. I shrugged, a small sad smile on my face. Now he was going to have to leave, and I bet there wasn't the smallest chance that he'd take me home with him, or vice versa.

He smiled at me and put his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him, which of course I was trying to do already without him actually flattering himself. He was too gorgeous not to do anything about, so I stopped dead in my tracks when we were walking over to the bar.

"So I have to wait until Wednesday night to see you again?" I asked him, pouting.

He laughed softly. "I could change my mind, if you change yours."

Which was what I wanted to hear in longer phrasing.

"But my problem is getting out of here without them noticing," I whispered, making eye motions to the bar.

Dave nodded. "Got it covered. Meet me at the Wal-Mart down the street in twenty minutes. Front door. Make an excuse to them about you needing milk, or whatever." I stifled my laugh at the milk thing.

"Okay. I'll see you then," I responded, and he walked out, smiling at me. I walked over to the bar and said to Joe, "One Diet Coke, please."

Joe, instead of usual, stared at me. "How could you do that?"

"Do what?" I asked. Had he overheard our plans?

"Be an ass to Pete like that."

"Not that he didn't deserve it," Patrick cut in, drinking some Coke himself. "He acted like an ass tonight."

I looked at him. "Patrick, you weren't even around tonight. Who's the blond?"

He flushed. "Amelia."

"Does Amelia have a little history?"

"She's bisexual," Andy cut in matter-of-factly. Patrick winced. "It kind of creeped me out." I nodded. I could understand that.

"Well, do you need a ride?" Joe asked, ignoring asking me about Pete again. My guess was that he was going to talk later about it. But then again maybe he'd forgotten and was starting to agree with me and Patrick on Pete being an ass. Sometimes, at least.

"No, I need to go to Wal-Mart and pick up a few things. I meant to do it earlier, but I'm going to go do it now." I picked up my black hoodie from behind the counter and hugged all of them. "See you guys Monday night!"

They all returned my goodbyes, and it wasn't until I'd made it to Wal-Mart ten minutes later that I hadn't seen Will around at closing. Maybe he'd been in the mens' room, or Gabrielle had kidnapped him and was going to rape him tonight. (Sorry.)

I checked my watch. It was now one-oh-five. Dave should be here in about five minutes.

Or, now.

I saw a black plain-looking car pull up, with the front window rolled down to reveal Dave, pushing hair out of his eyes and grinning at me.

I ran over to the passenger side and hopped in, and we sped off, his hand on my knee and our lips attached without strings.