Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Mistakes We Knew We Were Making
Mistakes We Knew We Were Making
4 reviewsPete's finally moved out of his parents' house! But while he's trying to find himself, he meets a young housewife who couldn't be more lost.
0Unrated
So, this was supposed to be a one shot. But at the moment it's towering over 20 pages. And, yah, I didn't feel like making a post that big. I figured it would be bad for the environment. So I'm gunna be doing this in pieces, not chapters. But I might still give my pieces names, you know, for fun lol.Love you guys muchly
-knickers
Ps- Raleigh is pronounced like trolley with out the 't'.
Disclaimer: Pete's great and all, but Patrick's my lover. Therefore I've opted to own Patrick, not Pete. Got it? Sweet.
And little boy, in his castle likes to hide away
Scared of the sun and clouds
Never will he come out and play
Always inside
Always with the shadows he hides
But he teaches me its okay to cry
He teaches me what its like
To really feel for someone
Open your heart and bleed for someone
But little boy isn't going to stay
Someday the shadows will catch up
Grow restless and carry him away
Mistakes We Knew We Were Making
~September 2008~
Tattoos. A large, red streak in longish, sideways bangs while the rest of his hair was black. Kinda short. And wearing really tight jeans that were a little too long for him, resulting in the frayed ends overlapping past his sneakers.
Can you blame me for nosily peaking out of my kitchen window as my interest in the newest addition to Pleasantville piqued? Well, okay, technically it was Mulberry, Illinois but still, you get my gist. This guy was not your typical neighbor down the lane around here. Mulberry was known for it's high end lifestyle, and the people that came with that lifestyle did /not/ look like him. That wasn't the only weird thing: for as many moving trucks as there were, I didn't see too many moving guys. At least they didn't look like moving guys. They were dressed like him and seemed to be friends of his since he was helping them move his own stuff while talking and laughing.
That was it, time to break out the muffin tins. I just had to go over there and welcome him to the neighborhood. I wasn't the eccentric neighbor type, but this particular case deserved an exception. Especially when you're a newly wed housewife adjusting to the boredom of not having anything to do. I had to take my fun where I could get it.
Waiting until all the moving trucks had departed the premises, I arranged my chocolate chip muffins in a small, cloth lined basket and ventured out my front door. Down the street and four houses down, my mind noted. I didn't remember the people who had lived here before him, but then again we (meaning my husband Jake Marcs and I) had only just moved in to the neighborhood five months ago. Still, the stately white mansion on Cherry Blossom Street never suited this guy. I remember he always looked so small in his house, almost lost.
He answered the door with a glass of cold something in one hand, his shoes now forgotten and worn out, gray socks in their place. Smudged eyeliner and all he was a lot more attractive so close up. I guess I hadn't really noticed it from my kitchen window, but there was something intriguing about him, something beautiful. Maybe it was the way his obvious overbite made those full lips pout a little. Maybe it was his rather defined brown eyes, so enhanced were they by generous helpings of eyeliner each. It could have been his jaw line, his skin, the way his clothes fit so snugly over his physique. It could have been any number of things, the point was I was very caught off guard.
"Hello there," he seemed amused by my presence and the matching silence that went along with it, his voice and smile those of a stranger stopping to help a wandering toddler or puppy, "Can I help you?"
"Yah," I felt my cheeks go raw with heat under his gaze, "Umm, my name's Raleigh Marcs, I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood." I indicated my sincerity by holding up the basket of muffins. His smile grew and he welcomed me inside.
"You're not married are you?" he called over his shoulder as he led me inside, straight down through the foyer, past a staircase into a kitchen. "The last thing I need is to be making waves with the big, muscular guys on this street who could easily kick my ass."
I laughed, glad to see a spark of humor in my new neighbor. "I'm afraid I am and I'm afraid your right, my husband is probably twice your size. Don't worry though, he's hardly ever home. He's usually away on business. Right now he's in Berlin." We came to stop at an island counter in the kitchen.
"Oh, good. I guess it's safe to introduce myself using my real name then?" He cocked a playful eyebrow as he dug into my muffins. I smiled, hesitant to sit down in his house or touch anything with out being invited.
"Probably, though I have to say, you're pretty distinguishable from everyone else on the street. If he wanted to come after you all I'd have to do is point him in the direction of the only guy on Cherry Blossom wearing girl jeans and eyeliner." I couldn't help myself as we shook hands.
He just chuckled, "I'm Pete Wentz."
"Hi Pete, it's nice to meet you."
He didn't say anything back, seemingly waiting for some kind of reaction besides hi.
"Umm, I like your house." I offered, not really knowing what he wanted from me. It was then that I noticed all the food laid out on his counter. His kitchen was a lot like Jake's and mine, Italian styled, tightly spaced with two ovens, a double sink and a large island counter that boasted yet another sink. Though I liked the feel of his better, the color scheme was sour apple green and soft yellow-ish. It was a nice change from the abrasive red brick our kitchen was decked out in. "I'm sorry, did I catch you in the middle of dinner?"
"No, no, just the preparation of dinner. You're welcome to stay if you like, since we're both alone and no one likes to have dinner by themselves, it's just depressing. There's no one to talk to except your food, but it's so offended by being eaten that it doesn't really have a tendency to talk back. Unless you have the flu...but that's another story entirely." he assured me, rambling away as he got back into the swing of cooking what looked like about three dishes at once, while still working on one of my muffins. Wow, either he was seriously ADD or just amazing at multi-tasking. After that little outburst about talking to one's food I was going to say it was safe to assume both.
"You're all by yourself?" I asked, looking around as if someone else might magically appear.
"I gave my imaginary friends the day off." he shrugged playfully, getting some kind of vegetable from his fridge.
I couldn't help the laugh that surfaced, "Yah, all that moving must've tuckered them out...I dunno, this is just such a big house I guess I sort of.../assumed/ you had a...a girlfriend or a wife or something. I thought maybe she was out getting groceries or Glade Plug-Ins or something." Single people didn't move onto Cherry Blossom Street. This was a rich neighborhood designed for raising families, not quirky bachelors.
He smiled, "Do I /need /some Glade Plug-Ins?"
I just laughed softly, "No, no...well, maybe a shower." I teased. Hey, it was true, he was sweating more than his water glass.
"Thanks," he chuckled, shaking his head as he dumped some chopped up mushrooms into a sizzling frying pan. "Oh by the way, thanks for those muffins. They're really good."
"I'm glad you like them. I must say, I'm not exactly a great chef like you seem to be. I got those out of a box."
"Meh, we all have to start somewhere...you know, I could teach you if you want. To cook I mean."
I smiled, what /else /would he mean? This kid was too cute. "Umm, sure. If you really feel up to it. I mean, /I'd /love to but I have to warn you I really am a terrible cook."
"That just means I'll look that much better after I make your cooking amazing," he smirked. "Now go grab an apron out of that box on the floor over there, it says kitchen, yah."
Throwing the strap over my head I rolled my eyes when I realized how bad I was with things like trying to tie bows behind my back. "Pete, could you"- I smiled when he came to my rescue, his fingers lightly brushing my back as he made a bow of the strings that had refused to behave for me. "Thanks."
"If you wanna thank me, put your hair up and wash your hands." I felt his breath on my neck as he leaned over my shoulder to say that. I couldn't decide if the shiver that shook down my spine made me wish he hadn't done that, or wish that he hadn't stopped.
Telling myself to get a grip and that Pete definitely wasn't my type anyway, I went over to his sink and washed my hands after throwing my long, reddish brown hair up in a pony tail. I couldn't believe I was doing this. I barely knew this guy and I was letting him show me how to use knives. Wow, Raleigh way to think ahead.
"Here, this is goat cheese." he said placing a block of white stuff on the cutting board in front of me. I nodded. "Can I trust you to cut my goat cheese? Because honestly this salad I'm making is really just crap without the goat cheese."
I giggled, "I think I can handle it." I said, scouting around for knives, "Where do you keep your knives?"
Suddenly he'd whipped out a pack of dental floss. I just blinked, surprised by the sudden influx of REACH mint waxed dental floss in front of my face.
"You don't cut goat cheese with knives, you use this."
"Oh," I took the small white container from him and got to work tearing myself a strand. But beyond that I was lost. How was I supposed to slice something with...dental floss? I tried a bunch of positions but all them were equally as awkward and didn't really get me anywhere. "Uh...Pete, a little help?"
He looked over his shoulder at me from his stove where he was busy sautéing really big mushroom heads. "Raleigh, it's cheese. There's only so many ways to cut cheese."
"Well you do it then, give me something to chop." I pouted helplessly.
His sigh melted into a smile as he put a lid on the mushrooms, wiped his hands on his apron and came to my rescue. "Ok lesson one, we do not run from food. Even when it's kicking our asses, we do not simply give up and go find something to chop. Understood?"
"Am I supposed to be taking notes or are you going to show me how to slice this cheese already?" I smirked.
"Fine, no desert for you." his smirk matched mine as he lined the floss up on either side of the cheese in a straight line and sliced it evenly.
"Not to be difficult, but why can't I use a knife to do that again?" I asked, taking the floss as he handed it back to me, obviously wanting me to actively learn instead of just watch.
"Because it's so soft that a knife's just going to cause it to lose it's shape- wait, make sure that's lined up evenly...no, see it's still crooked...there."
"Pete, it's cheese." I cocked an eyebrow over my shoulder as I lined up the next slice. "Calm down."
"It's /goat /cheese." he corrected me, "And it deserves to be treated as such. Do you think you can handle this now? My mushrooms aren't very happy all on their lonesome."
Snorting a giggle through my nose I nodded, "Sure," and let him go do his thing. This guy was so weird...but I kinda liked it. It was refreshing and fun. Not to mention fun/ny/. By the time I finished that block of cheese Pete pretty much had the rest of dinner covered. He ended up frying the goat cheese, which was actually an amazingly delicious touch, before adding it to the spinach salad he'd tossed together earlier. Add that to the mushroom heads that had scoops of some tomato/olive/onion/basil thing going on in them and we had ourselves a five star meal.
We ate in the living room, on the floor since he didn't have any furniture set up yet. It was fun though, something new and different.
"So, are you some kind of world renowned chef or something who's come to Chicago to open up a new, swanky restaurant?" I teased before sipping at my water, though quite serious in my assumptions.
"No," he laughed, "I just like to cook. I kind of had to learn since I'm vegan and it's hard to find good, animal free food just anywhere."
"Do you travel a lot?" I asked, curious about this guy's past. For a moment he just studied me, cocking his head to the side like a really intelligent child trying to decide if your intentions were true or not.
"You really don't know who I am, do you..." he murmured. "At first I though you were just being polite, but you really don't know, huh?"
"Umm, sorry, no." I shrugged. Great, now I'd offended him. Damn it.
"That's okay, don't apologize. It's a good thing, trust me. Though I have to wonder...what kind of rock do you live under and where can I get one?"
I laughed, looking down and swishing my water around in my glass, thoroughly embarrassed. "I'm not a big media whore. I don't watch TV, I stopped reading the news paper around 2002. Movies aren't exactly my thing unless my husband brings home a good DVD he thinks I'd like. About the only things I keep up with are fashion magazines and the local theatre scene."
"Oh, well that's cool, I mean there's nothing wrong with that. It's not a big deal really, I'm just in a band." he shrugged.
"That explains a lot." I smiled, my eyes playing over his hair and tattoos again. "So what's a single, rock star like you doing with a house the size of a small apartment complex in a neighborhood who's main social scene revolves around the gulf clubhouse?"
He shrugged. Now it was his turn to play with his water. "I guess I kind of needed a change. I was living in Wilmette, with my parents"-
"Your /parents/? How old are you?" He looked like he could pass for about 24 to me, but surely no younger than that.
"That...is a funny question, actually."
"Pete," I flashed him a mischievous smile, "How old are you?"
"Twenty-nine." he sighed. My smile evaporated.
"Oh," I hadn't been expecting that. "Well...why?" Like any normal human being I'd been elated to move out of my parents' house on my 18th birthday thank you very much. I loved my parents, they were great, but living with them everyday for 18 years does things to a girl.
"Why? Because birthdays happen and there's nothing you can do to stop them."
"No," I chortled, "Why did you live with your parents for so long?"
He shrugged, "It felt right. My mom and I are really close and I didn't want to leave her. I didn't want her to be alone and I didn't want to be alone without her. She's like my best friend. But after twenty-nine years...I dunno, I guess I just realized I had some soul searching to do. I needed some wide open spaces, some brand new faces. The funny thing is, I picked this house because it reminds me so much of home." he offered up a sad smile and my heart seemed to sag in my chest. Not really in my right mind, I set my glass down and went over to his side of the dinner plates, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.
"This is going to be good for you. Cherry Blossom's a great street to live on, and hey, you've already made one friend. It's gunna work out, I promise."
"Making promises you can't keep isn't the best way to start out a friendship." he clung to the arm I had slung around the front of his chest with his free hand as he just stared ahead at his wall.
I leaned back, untangling our arms, "If you ever need someone to talk to or laugh with or just hang out with, I'm four houses down and across the street. I don't work and Jake's gone most of the time so I can promise I'll almost always be there for you if you need me, ok?" he just nodded, still staring at that wall. Giving up, I started taking our things up. That seemed to snap him out of his daze because he was soon right behind me with the rest of our dishes. Into the sink they went and Pete switched on the hot water.
"Umm, there's a certain way I like to wash these, you don't mind drying do you?"
"Not at all." I assured him softly, taking the hand towel he offered me. "But I'll warn you, I don't know where anything goes."
"That's okay," he shrugged, "Neither do I, yet. We'll figure it out together."
Smiling again, I nodded and got to work. We quickly figured out that the spoons preferred to be buried beside the forks and the bowls liked to be kept somewhere close to the coffee mugs. Pete assured me it was better this way, less confusion for the strainer and ladle.
I just laughed, wishing I had found this crazy amazingness sooner in my life. However, when he offered desert, I had to decline.
"I'm still kind of full from dinner and there's some guys coming to take a look at the lawn around ten, which means I have to be up around nine, which is way too early for me." I confessed as we said our goodbyes, me on his porch, him in the doorway.
"A girl who likes to sleep," he nodded in approval, "We should get along fabulously."
I smiled, "We already kinda are."
"Oh, right." he smirked bashfully. Apparently the cuteness never ended.
"Rain check though? After all, no one likes to eat alone." I reminded him hopefully. "Besides, I think the peach torte might resent me if I left it with no one to talk to but you."
He chuckled, "Yah, it probably would. Besides, you still have a lot of cooking to learn. You're getting off lucky today with no homework. But I want to see you bright and early tomorrow morning."
"/Afternoon/." I corrected him.
"Even better, I can sleep in longer."
We shared a laugh and I realized I really had to get going. The sun had already set and as nice as Mulberry was, I had grown up in New York City and didn't fancy walking any street for too long after dark.
"Alright, well, I'll see you tomorrow then. Good night Pete."
"Night Raleigh. Sleep well."
With that I turned to go, trouncing down his porch steps, down the street and finally to my own front door. As I keyed it open I couldn't help a last look over my shoulder at my new neighbor's house. I was surprised to find that he was still in his doorway, watching over me. For the first time since I'd moved out of my parents' house I felt a thorough sense of protection. And I realized, as I shut and locked my front door, that I really loved that feeling.
~~~
Voila! Part one! So, hoped you guys like it, blah blah blah. Okay, I'm looking for someone to make me some story banners cuz I'm totally inept at crap like that haha. So, if you're interested gimme a jingle! Love you aaaall!
-knickers
-knickers
Ps- Raleigh is pronounced like trolley with out the 't'.
Disclaimer: Pete's great and all, but Patrick's my lover. Therefore I've opted to own Patrick, not Pete. Got it? Sweet.
And little boy, in his castle likes to hide away
Scared of the sun and clouds
Never will he come out and play
Always inside
Always with the shadows he hides
But he teaches me its okay to cry
He teaches me what its like
To really feel for someone
Open your heart and bleed for someone
But little boy isn't going to stay
Someday the shadows will catch up
Grow restless and carry him away
Mistakes We Knew We Were Making
~September 2008~
Tattoos. A large, red streak in longish, sideways bangs while the rest of his hair was black. Kinda short. And wearing really tight jeans that were a little too long for him, resulting in the frayed ends overlapping past his sneakers.
Can you blame me for nosily peaking out of my kitchen window as my interest in the newest addition to Pleasantville piqued? Well, okay, technically it was Mulberry, Illinois but still, you get my gist. This guy was not your typical neighbor down the lane around here. Mulberry was known for it's high end lifestyle, and the people that came with that lifestyle did /not/ look like him. That wasn't the only weird thing: for as many moving trucks as there were, I didn't see too many moving guys. At least they didn't look like moving guys. They were dressed like him and seemed to be friends of his since he was helping them move his own stuff while talking and laughing.
That was it, time to break out the muffin tins. I just had to go over there and welcome him to the neighborhood. I wasn't the eccentric neighbor type, but this particular case deserved an exception. Especially when you're a newly wed housewife adjusting to the boredom of not having anything to do. I had to take my fun where I could get it.
Waiting until all the moving trucks had departed the premises, I arranged my chocolate chip muffins in a small, cloth lined basket and ventured out my front door. Down the street and four houses down, my mind noted. I didn't remember the people who had lived here before him, but then again we (meaning my husband Jake Marcs and I) had only just moved in to the neighborhood five months ago. Still, the stately white mansion on Cherry Blossom Street never suited this guy. I remember he always looked so small in his house, almost lost.
He answered the door with a glass of cold something in one hand, his shoes now forgotten and worn out, gray socks in their place. Smudged eyeliner and all he was a lot more attractive so close up. I guess I hadn't really noticed it from my kitchen window, but there was something intriguing about him, something beautiful. Maybe it was the way his obvious overbite made those full lips pout a little. Maybe it was his rather defined brown eyes, so enhanced were they by generous helpings of eyeliner each. It could have been his jaw line, his skin, the way his clothes fit so snugly over his physique. It could have been any number of things, the point was I was very caught off guard.
"Hello there," he seemed amused by my presence and the matching silence that went along with it, his voice and smile those of a stranger stopping to help a wandering toddler or puppy, "Can I help you?"
"Yah," I felt my cheeks go raw with heat under his gaze, "Umm, my name's Raleigh Marcs, I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood." I indicated my sincerity by holding up the basket of muffins. His smile grew and he welcomed me inside.
"You're not married are you?" he called over his shoulder as he led me inside, straight down through the foyer, past a staircase into a kitchen. "The last thing I need is to be making waves with the big, muscular guys on this street who could easily kick my ass."
I laughed, glad to see a spark of humor in my new neighbor. "I'm afraid I am and I'm afraid your right, my husband is probably twice your size. Don't worry though, he's hardly ever home. He's usually away on business. Right now he's in Berlin." We came to stop at an island counter in the kitchen.
"Oh, good. I guess it's safe to introduce myself using my real name then?" He cocked a playful eyebrow as he dug into my muffins. I smiled, hesitant to sit down in his house or touch anything with out being invited.
"Probably, though I have to say, you're pretty distinguishable from everyone else on the street. If he wanted to come after you all I'd have to do is point him in the direction of the only guy on Cherry Blossom wearing girl jeans and eyeliner." I couldn't help myself as we shook hands.
He just chuckled, "I'm Pete Wentz."
"Hi Pete, it's nice to meet you."
He didn't say anything back, seemingly waiting for some kind of reaction besides hi.
"Umm, I like your house." I offered, not really knowing what he wanted from me. It was then that I noticed all the food laid out on his counter. His kitchen was a lot like Jake's and mine, Italian styled, tightly spaced with two ovens, a double sink and a large island counter that boasted yet another sink. Though I liked the feel of his better, the color scheme was sour apple green and soft yellow-ish. It was a nice change from the abrasive red brick our kitchen was decked out in. "I'm sorry, did I catch you in the middle of dinner?"
"No, no, just the preparation of dinner. You're welcome to stay if you like, since we're both alone and no one likes to have dinner by themselves, it's just depressing. There's no one to talk to except your food, but it's so offended by being eaten that it doesn't really have a tendency to talk back. Unless you have the flu...but that's another story entirely." he assured me, rambling away as he got back into the swing of cooking what looked like about three dishes at once, while still working on one of my muffins. Wow, either he was seriously ADD or just amazing at multi-tasking. After that little outburst about talking to one's food I was going to say it was safe to assume both.
"You're all by yourself?" I asked, looking around as if someone else might magically appear.
"I gave my imaginary friends the day off." he shrugged playfully, getting some kind of vegetable from his fridge.
I couldn't help the laugh that surfaced, "Yah, all that moving must've tuckered them out...I dunno, this is just such a big house I guess I sort of.../assumed/ you had a...a girlfriend or a wife or something. I thought maybe she was out getting groceries or Glade Plug-Ins or something." Single people didn't move onto Cherry Blossom Street. This was a rich neighborhood designed for raising families, not quirky bachelors.
He smiled, "Do I /need /some Glade Plug-Ins?"
I just laughed softly, "No, no...well, maybe a shower." I teased. Hey, it was true, he was sweating more than his water glass.
"Thanks," he chuckled, shaking his head as he dumped some chopped up mushrooms into a sizzling frying pan. "Oh by the way, thanks for those muffins. They're really good."
"I'm glad you like them. I must say, I'm not exactly a great chef like you seem to be. I got those out of a box."
"Meh, we all have to start somewhere...you know, I could teach you if you want. To cook I mean."
I smiled, what /else /would he mean? This kid was too cute. "Umm, sure. If you really feel up to it. I mean, /I'd /love to but I have to warn you I really am a terrible cook."
"That just means I'll look that much better after I make your cooking amazing," he smirked. "Now go grab an apron out of that box on the floor over there, it says kitchen, yah."
Throwing the strap over my head I rolled my eyes when I realized how bad I was with things like trying to tie bows behind my back. "Pete, could you"- I smiled when he came to my rescue, his fingers lightly brushing my back as he made a bow of the strings that had refused to behave for me. "Thanks."
"If you wanna thank me, put your hair up and wash your hands." I felt his breath on my neck as he leaned over my shoulder to say that. I couldn't decide if the shiver that shook down my spine made me wish he hadn't done that, or wish that he hadn't stopped.
Telling myself to get a grip and that Pete definitely wasn't my type anyway, I went over to his sink and washed my hands after throwing my long, reddish brown hair up in a pony tail. I couldn't believe I was doing this. I barely knew this guy and I was letting him show me how to use knives. Wow, Raleigh way to think ahead.
"Here, this is goat cheese." he said placing a block of white stuff on the cutting board in front of me. I nodded. "Can I trust you to cut my goat cheese? Because honestly this salad I'm making is really just crap without the goat cheese."
I giggled, "I think I can handle it." I said, scouting around for knives, "Where do you keep your knives?"
Suddenly he'd whipped out a pack of dental floss. I just blinked, surprised by the sudden influx of REACH mint waxed dental floss in front of my face.
"You don't cut goat cheese with knives, you use this."
"Oh," I took the small white container from him and got to work tearing myself a strand. But beyond that I was lost. How was I supposed to slice something with...dental floss? I tried a bunch of positions but all them were equally as awkward and didn't really get me anywhere. "Uh...Pete, a little help?"
He looked over his shoulder at me from his stove where he was busy sautéing really big mushroom heads. "Raleigh, it's cheese. There's only so many ways to cut cheese."
"Well you do it then, give me something to chop." I pouted helplessly.
His sigh melted into a smile as he put a lid on the mushrooms, wiped his hands on his apron and came to my rescue. "Ok lesson one, we do not run from food. Even when it's kicking our asses, we do not simply give up and go find something to chop. Understood?"
"Am I supposed to be taking notes or are you going to show me how to slice this cheese already?" I smirked.
"Fine, no desert for you." his smirk matched mine as he lined the floss up on either side of the cheese in a straight line and sliced it evenly.
"Not to be difficult, but why can't I use a knife to do that again?" I asked, taking the floss as he handed it back to me, obviously wanting me to actively learn instead of just watch.
"Because it's so soft that a knife's just going to cause it to lose it's shape- wait, make sure that's lined up evenly...no, see it's still crooked...there."
"Pete, it's cheese." I cocked an eyebrow over my shoulder as I lined up the next slice. "Calm down."
"It's /goat /cheese." he corrected me, "And it deserves to be treated as such. Do you think you can handle this now? My mushrooms aren't very happy all on their lonesome."
Snorting a giggle through my nose I nodded, "Sure," and let him go do his thing. This guy was so weird...but I kinda liked it. It was refreshing and fun. Not to mention fun/ny/. By the time I finished that block of cheese Pete pretty much had the rest of dinner covered. He ended up frying the goat cheese, which was actually an amazingly delicious touch, before adding it to the spinach salad he'd tossed together earlier. Add that to the mushroom heads that had scoops of some tomato/olive/onion/basil thing going on in them and we had ourselves a five star meal.
We ate in the living room, on the floor since he didn't have any furniture set up yet. It was fun though, something new and different.
"So, are you some kind of world renowned chef or something who's come to Chicago to open up a new, swanky restaurant?" I teased before sipping at my water, though quite serious in my assumptions.
"No," he laughed, "I just like to cook. I kind of had to learn since I'm vegan and it's hard to find good, animal free food just anywhere."
"Do you travel a lot?" I asked, curious about this guy's past. For a moment he just studied me, cocking his head to the side like a really intelligent child trying to decide if your intentions were true or not.
"You really don't know who I am, do you..." he murmured. "At first I though you were just being polite, but you really don't know, huh?"
"Umm, sorry, no." I shrugged. Great, now I'd offended him. Damn it.
"That's okay, don't apologize. It's a good thing, trust me. Though I have to wonder...what kind of rock do you live under and where can I get one?"
I laughed, looking down and swishing my water around in my glass, thoroughly embarrassed. "I'm not a big media whore. I don't watch TV, I stopped reading the news paper around 2002. Movies aren't exactly my thing unless my husband brings home a good DVD he thinks I'd like. About the only things I keep up with are fashion magazines and the local theatre scene."
"Oh, well that's cool, I mean there's nothing wrong with that. It's not a big deal really, I'm just in a band." he shrugged.
"That explains a lot." I smiled, my eyes playing over his hair and tattoos again. "So what's a single, rock star like you doing with a house the size of a small apartment complex in a neighborhood who's main social scene revolves around the gulf clubhouse?"
He shrugged. Now it was his turn to play with his water. "I guess I kind of needed a change. I was living in Wilmette, with my parents"-
"Your /parents/? How old are you?" He looked like he could pass for about 24 to me, but surely no younger than that.
"That...is a funny question, actually."
"Pete," I flashed him a mischievous smile, "How old are you?"
"Twenty-nine." he sighed. My smile evaporated.
"Oh," I hadn't been expecting that. "Well...why?" Like any normal human being I'd been elated to move out of my parents' house on my 18th birthday thank you very much. I loved my parents, they were great, but living with them everyday for 18 years does things to a girl.
"Why? Because birthdays happen and there's nothing you can do to stop them."
"No," I chortled, "Why did you live with your parents for so long?"
He shrugged, "It felt right. My mom and I are really close and I didn't want to leave her. I didn't want her to be alone and I didn't want to be alone without her. She's like my best friend. But after twenty-nine years...I dunno, I guess I just realized I had some soul searching to do. I needed some wide open spaces, some brand new faces. The funny thing is, I picked this house because it reminds me so much of home." he offered up a sad smile and my heart seemed to sag in my chest. Not really in my right mind, I set my glass down and went over to his side of the dinner plates, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.
"This is going to be good for you. Cherry Blossom's a great street to live on, and hey, you've already made one friend. It's gunna work out, I promise."
"Making promises you can't keep isn't the best way to start out a friendship." he clung to the arm I had slung around the front of his chest with his free hand as he just stared ahead at his wall.
I leaned back, untangling our arms, "If you ever need someone to talk to or laugh with or just hang out with, I'm four houses down and across the street. I don't work and Jake's gone most of the time so I can promise I'll almost always be there for you if you need me, ok?" he just nodded, still staring at that wall. Giving up, I started taking our things up. That seemed to snap him out of his daze because he was soon right behind me with the rest of our dishes. Into the sink they went and Pete switched on the hot water.
"Umm, there's a certain way I like to wash these, you don't mind drying do you?"
"Not at all." I assured him softly, taking the hand towel he offered me. "But I'll warn you, I don't know where anything goes."
"That's okay," he shrugged, "Neither do I, yet. We'll figure it out together."
Smiling again, I nodded and got to work. We quickly figured out that the spoons preferred to be buried beside the forks and the bowls liked to be kept somewhere close to the coffee mugs. Pete assured me it was better this way, less confusion for the strainer and ladle.
I just laughed, wishing I had found this crazy amazingness sooner in my life. However, when he offered desert, I had to decline.
"I'm still kind of full from dinner and there's some guys coming to take a look at the lawn around ten, which means I have to be up around nine, which is way too early for me." I confessed as we said our goodbyes, me on his porch, him in the doorway.
"A girl who likes to sleep," he nodded in approval, "We should get along fabulously."
I smiled, "We already kinda are."
"Oh, right." he smirked bashfully. Apparently the cuteness never ended.
"Rain check though? After all, no one likes to eat alone." I reminded him hopefully. "Besides, I think the peach torte might resent me if I left it with no one to talk to but you."
He chuckled, "Yah, it probably would. Besides, you still have a lot of cooking to learn. You're getting off lucky today with no homework. But I want to see you bright and early tomorrow morning."
"/Afternoon/." I corrected him.
"Even better, I can sleep in longer."
We shared a laugh and I realized I really had to get going. The sun had already set and as nice as Mulberry was, I had grown up in New York City and didn't fancy walking any street for too long after dark.
"Alright, well, I'll see you tomorrow then. Good night Pete."
"Night Raleigh. Sleep well."
With that I turned to go, trouncing down his porch steps, down the street and finally to my own front door. As I keyed it open I couldn't help a last look over my shoulder at my new neighbor's house. I was surprised to find that he was still in his doorway, watching over me. For the first time since I'd moved out of my parents' house I felt a thorough sense of protection. And I realized, as I shut and locked my front door, that I really loved that feeling.
~~~
Voila! Part one! So, hoped you guys like it, blah blah blah. Okay, I'm looking for someone to make me some story banners cuz I'm totally inept at crap like that haha. So, if you're interested gimme a jingle! Love you aaaall!
-knickers
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