Ditch the Scene and Stumble
I imported this entry from my old LJ account. Originally dated Aug. 6, 2008.
If you don't like fanfictions, particularly band-fics (Fall Out Boy... Haha.) don't read.
Part One
I shouldn't have drank that much. I really shouldn't have.
If I hadn't drank so much alcohol that night, then maybe I wouldn't have hid in Patrick's bathroom, my eyes heavy and red from sobbing. Pete already knocked on the door twice and endeavored to coax me outside. My heart throbbed with remorse from saying the mouthful of drunken words I spat at him and the rest of the band.
It first started when Patrick practically begged me to meet his band, Fall Out Boy. I never liked their music or their stuck up, show-off bassist, Pete Wentz. Who did he think he was, posing half naked in magazines and on the Internet? It sickened me to think about what he was like in real life, but I politely agreed to meet him, along with Joe and Andy. If Patrick and I hadn't been such great friends, I would have refused immediately.
I came to Patrick's house, vowing to keep my cool. I told myself I wouldn't mention disliking their band to ensure we would have nice, polite conversations. Everything was fine at first. Then I drank my first glass of sherry. After that I subconsciously downed several more. I didn't realize it until they started talking about a new song, and that was when things got messy.
"First of all, what do you think of the drums during this part?" asked Andy.
Patrick rubbed his chin. "I think it sounded great when we practiced yesterday."
"I agree," Joe added. "Pretty fricken sweet, if you ask me."
"Yeah, they're great. But what about the lyrics?" said Pete, wrinkling his nose. "It just sounds-- I don't know-- weird."
"You're the one who wrote them," Joe laughed.
I giggled.
"What do you think, Jenna?" Patrick asked me.
I opened my mouth to say something. All of a sudden my head felt like it was tossed into the wash and spun for hours on end. I felt sick in the stomach, but I held it in and focused on thinking of what to say. I wanted to at least stutter something polite or helpful, but my scattered thoughts prevented me from finding anything to answer back to them.
Instead I sputtered, "Your guys' songs all sound the same. None o' them make any sense either. Bad riffs. Sucky drum beats. And worse of all are the lyrics." Pete blinked. "And you," I stabbed my finger into his chest, "you must be the most conceited person on this whole fricken world."
Before I realized what I had said, I found myself locked up in Patrick's bathroom, vomiting into the toilet, and bawling my eyes out. I felt ashamed for letting myself get out of control, especially since I gulped down all those glasses of sherry. If I ever came out, it would not have surprised me if none of them spoke to me again. But there I was, listening to a light rapping on the door, accompanied by four distinct voices.
"Jenna, please come out," Patrick pleaded.
They waited for a response.
"We know you didn't mean to say that," said Pete.
"We all forgive you," Joe added.
Another pause.
"Maybe you were right," Pete confessed. "Maybe I am conceited, and maybe we do need to work a little on the things you referred to."
A fresh set of tears streamed down my face. How could they forgive me so easily? I practically yelled "screw you" to them and all of who and what they are. If someone did that to me, I would never let them get away with it.
"I'm so sorry!" I sobbed, throwing the door open.
Patrick hesitantly stepped forward to embrace me in a hug, followed by everyone else. I reeked of the pungent, raw scent of barf, while they all smelled either of clean laundry or cologne. Finally they released me, and I apologized a hundred more times before they could shut me up.
"Look, Jenna," said Joe. "We said we forgive you."
"You've had too many drinks, so its no surprise that it happened," Andy added.
"Know what?" said Pete. "To prove how much I accept your apology I want to invite you to come along with us to my favorite club tomorrow night. At first it was just going to be the four of us and no one else, but I think we can make an exception this time."
Patrick sent me a look that seemed to say, 'Please try it.' If I hadn't I dissed their band, which I did and more, I would have made a lame excuse just to get myself out of it. Patrick was also one of my closest friends, and I needed to make up for the times he helped me out by accompanying me to all the parties I went to. Oh woe is me! Why did I have to care about him so much?
"Sure," I answered politely. "That's very kind of you."
"Don't mention it," Pete replied. "Hey, I'll even drive you home right now!"
I groaned, mentally of course. Tomorrow Patrick and I were going to have a nice, long talk.
Part Two
"You'll have a fun time," Patrick reassured me. "I promise."
"Didn't you say that yesterday?" I asked.
"I did, didn't I? Hey, just because Pete is a little full of himself, doesn't mean he isn't a great guy, okay? Give him another chance. Please?"
I set my compact on my lap and glared at him. "Fine."
"Hey, look! There's the club. Jenna you look fine, so put away your makeup and let's go."
I sighed, tossed everything into my makeup bag, and stashed it in the back seat. I didn't feel like dressing up too much, so I threw on a simple pair of dark wash jeans and a yellow tank top. It wasn't like I had anyone to impress, right?
"Jenna, you look great!" Pete exclaimed, running up to me for a hug.
I gave him a slanted smile. "Thanks."
His breath already smelled slightly of alcohol.
"How long have you been waiting for us to arrive?" I screamed.
"About ten minutes," Pete yelled back, dancing to the blaring music. "Came with Andy and Joe. They're over there." He pointed to a small table by the bar. "Talk later. Dance now."
He pulled me into a heavy throng of dancers, shaking their hips to the music under the fluorescent lights. It felt like being tossed into the ocean; you just had to let it carry you. If you fought, you would be tossed in deeper until you couldn't find your way back to the surface. Just like love, I guess.
"What kind of music do you listen to anyway?" Pete asked.
He held my sides, but I forced him to let go by dancing around him.
"Pretty much all kinds of rock," I replied. "But I've been into electronic and powerpop lately."
"Cool."
Several minutes later we dropped by the bar and sat at the table where we spotted Joe and Andy. They were busy dancing by then, leaving Patrick all alone. He held a small cup of water, which he pretended to seem quite interested in. Every time a beautiful woman walked past, he glanced down at his glass to observe it closely.
"Aren't you going to dance?" I asked him, taking a seat.
He looked up and smiled ruefully. "Nah, I'm not that much of a dancer."
"Sure you are," I replied. "You just need a pretty girl to dance with."
He blushed. I chugged my glass of beer and pulled him onto his feet. At first he was reluctant, but after a few more tries he set down his glass of water and stood up.
Pete pulled me into a one-armed hug and pressed me close. "Take care of my little boy, okay?" With a wink he let me go and pecked my cheek.
The spot where his lips met my skin burned like wildfire. I shot him a clumsy smile and took off to the dance floor with Patrick trailing behind me. He took it quite well for someone as shy as a child behind his mother's back. Before you know it, Patrick was having a wonderful time, moving along to the music's pulsing beat. We waved our hands in the air and grinned at each other. Maybe this night was better than I thought it would be.
Part Three
"Hey," I yelled over the noise of the club. "Is that Pete?"
Patrick glanced over to the direction I pointed to. "Yeah," he said slowly. "I think so."
Pete had his hands all over a blond girl's skinny body. She had streaks of blue and violet in her hair, and a silver stud shone over her left eyebrow. The girl wore a skimpy red shirt and a pair of tiny gray shorts. Even if she sported jean overalls and pigtails, the girl would still put a diamond to shame. That was how pretty she looked, despite her emaciated body.
I snatched Patrick's wrist and yanked him over to the bar, where I ordered another glass of beer. Patrick, on the other hand, stuck to a virgin peach and lime daiquiri. Meanwhile, Pete and the blond continued to grind against each other, having the time of their lives. Before I could ask for another beer, Joe plopped onto the barstool next to me.
"Are you watching them?" He jerked his head in Pete's direction.
"Yeah, so what?" I retorted.
"Just asking."
"How have you and Pete been getting along anyway?" Patrick asked.
"Just fine," I grumbled.
"Who said what about me?"
"Hey, Pete!" Joe exclaimed. "No one said anything about you. Right, Jenna?" He dug his elbow into my ribs.
I punched him lightly in the shoulder. "Sure."
"Where's that girl you were getting it down with?" Joe kidded.
"Ha-ha. Very funny." He shot a wary glance in my direction. "And her name is Kat."
"Ooooh, you even know her name!"
"Would you cut that out, Joe? C'mon, Jenna, let's go."
Once again Pete dragged me into the crowd of sweaty dancers, only this time I felt more than happy to follow. I would show that Kat person how much more fun it was to hang out with me and not her. Then I found myself thinking the same thing as before. You had to let the ocean carry you. If you fought, you wouldn't find your way back to the surface, just like... What did I think it was?
"Why don't you dance with Kat?" I jeered.
Pete concealed his guilt and replied, "Because I would much rather dance with you, especially now that we're starting to get along. Besides, she has a boyfriend."
"And what do you think he's going to say after he finds out that you had your hands all over her?"
Pete was drunk. I could tell by the goofy grin on his face and how funny he looked when he danced. He couldn't focus his eyes in one spot, but it appeared as though he tried to direct as much attention to me as much as he could. I also had a few beers myself, and I felt pretty funny, too.
"Kat's boyfriend isn't here," Pete explained. "Girls' night out to have fun."
"Yeah, fun."
"Look, Jenna. Forget about her." He shot me a sweet smile. No wonder why girls always fell for him. "I really like you, know that?"
"Sure you do."
"Jenna." He gently pulled me close. "I do. Honestly."
I felt a pair of soft lips press against my neck. My head spun from excitement (and drunkenness), causing my thoughts to disperse. Pete was all that mattered to me at that moment. I traced his outline with my eyes, trying to capture every detail and commit it to memory.
He smiled and said, "Later do you want to go to my apartment?" Pete planted a kiss on my lips. "We'd have a great time." Another kiss. "Just you and me."
I saw the drunken hunger and lust in his eyes but didn't recognize it at that time. I wanted to fully prove to him that I liked him now. Or did my body also hunger for his like he did mine?
"Sure." I pressed my body close to his and laid him a wet one. "Just you and me."
He licked his lips and grinned. "After we get outta here."
Never before had I felt so good. The ocean swallowed me into its deep dark waters, sending me further down to the sandy bottom. I already knew it would be too late to try and find the surface, so I didn't fight the strong raging currents. Whether I did or didn't, it wouldn't have mattered; either way I knew it would end in tears.
Part Four
"Have you seen Pete?" I asked Andy.
"He left about half an hour ago. Mm..."
I twitched at the sight of Andy sticking his tongue down a girl's throat.
"Would you stop making out with her for a second?!" I screamed.
Andy and the girl on his lap stared at me. He continued to stroke her bare leg with his finger although his eyes focused on me. Obviously he had not appreciated the disturbance, but I just couldn't find Pete anywhere.
"What do you want, Jenna?" he grumbled. "I told you. Pete left."
My mouth dropped.
"Let's go." I pulled him to his feet, causing the girl to scramble off him. "We are getting Patrick and Joe. I am not being dissed. I cannot believe him!"
"Andy!" the girl whined.
He yanked his arm from my grasp. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Pete was supposed to..." I was still drunk and tried to think of a decent lie. "...drive me home."
"Get Patrick to do it. I was busy here!"
"Look, we're leaving, and Patrick will drive me to Pete's place to teach him a lesson."
"But--"
"Let's go!"
I dragged Andy along, who desperately tried to apologize to the girl but to no avail. She angrily crossed her arms and stomped off. After that, Andy gave up trying to fight me; it was as though his fire had just been doused. In other circumstances I would have felt sorry for him, but I had my own problems to worry about.
"Jenna, what..." Joe began.
"Down your drink. We're leaving."
"Joe," Andy warned. "Do what she says, or she'll drag you by your ear."
"Where is Patrick?" I asked, ignoring Andy.
"Right there." Joe pointed to a spot down the bar counter.
He was chatting with a shy-looking lady, sharing what seemed to be a piña colada. As soon as he spotted me, concern crossed his face. The lady spun around but quickly averted her eyes. She returned to her drink and silently listened to the conversations around her. During normal times, I would have introduced myself, but this was a special situation.
"Patrick, do you mind if we leave now?"
"Why? Is there something wrong?" Patrick asked.
"I need you to drive me to Pete's apartment. That stupid bastard left me here. He was supposed to take me home, and he, um, has something of mine."
"Can't you get it tomorrow?"
He took a glimpse at the lady.
"Please, Patrick," I pleaded. "Just do me this one favor."
He sighed. The woman nodded and smiled considerately at him. Patrick wrote something down on her napkin and presented her with a quick peck on the cheek. They both blushed a deep scarlet, smiles slowing creeping onto their faces.
Okay, he said to us. "I'm ready to go."
-------------------------
I angrily stomped up the steps to Pete's apartment, number forty-seven according to Patrick. They waited in the parking lot in case Pete refused to do anything for me, which was more than likely. I didn't know what I would tell them when I came back empty handed, but I worried even more about what to say to Pete.
The subsiding alcohol made me feel more and more sober with each step. What the hell was I doing? I would knock on Pete's door and possibly yell at him. Then what? Would I forgive him? Would he forgive me? Maybe we could fall into each other's arms, lie in his bed, and watch the cow jump over the moon.
I stared foolishly at Pete's door. If I tapped lightly enough, maybe he wouldn't hear it. Then I could tell the guys that he was asleep and didn't know I knocked. I wasn't exactly telling the truth, but it wasn't really lying either. Right? Then it would contradict my rushed pleads back in the club. I had to confront him. He left me back there. Hell, he might as well break my heart right then and there.
I pounded the thick heavy door and put on the hardest face I had.
"Hm?"
The door swung open to reveal Pete, wearing only a pair of gray boxers. The salty scent of sweat hit my nose right when the door cracked open, but it was mixed with the candied smell of a woman's perfume. He rubbed his droopy eyes but quickly woke up as soon as he realized who I was. Smeared lip stick and kiss marks decorated his face and other parts of his body. His disheveled hair stuck out in all directions like a pile of dead twigs, adding to his cluttered, sleepy look.
"What are you doing here?" Pete asked soberly.
I wiped the shock off my face and tried to ignore what I saw beyond the doorway. A woman's clothing and lingerie littered the tan carpet, seemingly alien compared to Pete's grungy and masculine ambiance. On top of his bed, backed into the corner of his apartment, lay a naked woman, covered only by a light blanket. Her bare shoulders shone milky white in the shadows, like the moon itself, while her eyebrow stud glinted in the darkness.
My mouth hung open, unable to emit a sound.
"Jenna, please don't--"
I didn't hear the rest of the sentence because I ran. I ran recklessly and fast, speeding down the steps with droplets of tears racing down my cheeks. Deeper and deeper I sank. The ocean filled my heart and lungs with its power, tossing me around like a tiny fish. I didn't bother to struggle against its indomitable strength, for I knew as soon as I hit the monstrous waters, I would be captured, just like love had ensnared me.
If you don't like fanfictions, particularly band-fics (Fall Out Boy... Haha.) don't read.
Part One
I shouldn't have drank that much. I really shouldn't have.
If I hadn't drank so much alcohol that night, then maybe I wouldn't have hid in Patrick's bathroom, my eyes heavy and red from sobbing. Pete already knocked on the door twice and endeavored to coax me outside. My heart throbbed with remorse from saying the mouthful of drunken words I spat at him and the rest of the band.
It first started when Patrick practically begged me to meet his band, Fall Out Boy. I never liked their music or their stuck up, show-off bassist, Pete Wentz. Who did he think he was, posing half naked in magazines and on the Internet? It sickened me to think about what he was like in real life, but I politely agreed to meet him, along with Joe and Andy. If Patrick and I hadn't been such great friends, I would have refused immediately.
I came to Patrick's house, vowing to keep my cool. I told myself I wouldn't mention disliking their band to ensure we would have nice, polite conversations. Everything was fine at first. Then I drank my first glass of sherry. After that I subconsciously downed several more. I didn't realize it until they started talking about a new song, and that was when things got messy.
"First of all, what do you think of the drums during this part?" asked Andy.
Patrick rubbed his chin. "I think it sounded great when we practiced yesterday."
"I agree," Joe added. "Pretty fricken sweet, if you ask me."
"Yeah, they're great. But what about the lyrics?" said Pete, wrinkling his nose. "It just sounds-- I don't know-- weird."
"You're the one who wrote them," Joe laughed.
I giggled.
"What do you think, Jenna?" Patrick asked me.
I opened my mouth to say something. All of a sudden my head felt like it was tossed into the wash and spun for hours on end. I felt sick in the stomach, but I held it in and focused on thinking of what to say. I wanted to at least stutter something polite or helpful, but my scattered thoughts prevented me from finding anything to answer back to them.
Instead I sputtered, "Your guys' songs all sound the same. None o' them make any sense either. Bad riffs. Sucky drum beats. And worse of all are the lyrics." Pete blinked. "And you," I stabbed my finger into his chest, "you must be the most conceited person on this whole fricken world."
Before I realized what I had said, I found myself locked up in Patrick's bathroom, vomiting into the toilet, and bawling my eyes out. I felt ashamed for letting myself get out of control, especially since I gulped down all those glasses of sherry. If I ever came out, it would not have surprised me if none of them spoke to me again. But there I was, listening to a light rapping on the door, accompanied by four distinct voices.
"Jenna, please come out," Patrick pleaded.
They waited for a response.
"We know you didn't mean to say that," said Pete.
"We all forgive you," Joe added.
Another pause.
"Maybe you were right," Pete confessed. "Maybe I am conceited, and maybe we do need to work a little on the things you referred to."
A fresh set of tears streamed down my face. How could they forgive me so easily? I practically yelled "screw you" to them and all of who and what they are. If someone did that to me, I would never let them get away with it.
"I'm so sorry!" I sobbed, throwing the door open.
Patrick hesitantly stepped forward to embrace me in a hug, followed by everyone else. I reeked of the pungent, raw scent of barf, while they all smelled either of clean laundry or cologne. Finally they released me, and I apologized a hundred more times before they could shut me up.
"Look, Jenna," said Joe. "We said we forgive you."
"You've had too many drinks, so its no surprise that it happened," Andy added.
"Know what?" said Pete. "To prove how much I accept your apology I want to invite you to come along with us to my favorite club tomorrow night. At first it was just going to be the four of us and no one else, but I think we can make an exception this time."
Patrick sent me a look that seemed to say, 'Please try it.' If I hadn't I dissed their band, which I did and more, I would have made a lame excuse just to get myself out of it. Patrick was also one of my closest friends, and I needed to make up for the times he helped me out by accompanying me to all the parties I went to. Oh woe is me! Why did I have to care about him so much?
"Sure," I answered politely. "That's very kind of you."
"Don't mention it," Pete replied. "Hey, I'll even drive you home right now!"
I groaned, mentally of course. Tomorrow Patrick and I were going to have a nice, long talk.
Part Two
"You'll have a fun time," Patrick reassured me. "I promise."
"Didn't you say that yesterday?" I asked.
"I did, didn't I? Hey, just because Pete is a little full of himself, doesn't mean he isn't a great guy, okay? Give him another chance. Please?"
I set my compact on my lap and glared at him. "Fine."
"Hey, look! There's the club. Jenna you look fine, so put away your makeup and let's go."
I sighed, tossed everything into my makeup bag, and stashed it in the back seat. I didn't feel like dressing up too much, so I threw on a simple pair of dark wash jeans and a yellow tank top. It wasn't like I had anyone to impress, right?
"Jenna, you look great!" Pete exclaimed, running up to me for a hug.
I gave him a slanted smile. "Thanks."
His breath already smelled slightly of alcohol.
"How long have you been waiting for us to arrive?" I screamed.
"About ten minutes," Pete yelled back, dancing to the blaring music. "Came with Andy and Joe. They're over there." He pointed to a small table by the bar. "Talk later. Dance now."
He pulled me into a heavy throng of dancers, shaking their hips to the music under the fluorescent lights. It felt like being tossed into the ocean; you just had to let it carry you. If you fought, you would be tossed in deeper until you couldn't find your way back to the surface. Just like love, I guess.
"What kind of music do you listen to anyway?" Pete asked.
He held my sides, but I forced him to let go by dancing around him.
"Pretty much all kinds of rock," I replied. "But I've been into electronic and powerpop lately."
"Cool."
Several minutes later we dropped by the bar and sat at the table where we spotted Joe and Andy. They were busy dancing by then, leaving Patrick all alone. He held a small cup of water, which he pretended to seem quite interested in. Every time a beautiful woman walked past, he glanced down at his glass to observe it closely.
"Aren't you going to dance?" I asked him, taking a seat.
He looked up and smiled ruefully. "Nah, I'm not that much of a dancer."
"Sure you are," I replied. "You just need a pretty girl to dance with."
He blushed. I chugged my glass of beer and pulled him onto his feet. At first he was reluctant, but after a few more tries he set down his glass of water and stood up.
Pete pulled me into a one-armed hug and pressed me close. "Take care of my little boy, okay?" With a wink he let me go and pecked my cheek.
The spot where his lips met my skin burned like wildfire. I shot him a clumsy smile and took off to the dance floor with Patrick trailing behind me. He took it quite well for someone as shy as a child behind his mother's back. Before you know it, Patrick was having a wonderful time, moving along to the music's pulsing beat. We waved our hands in the air and grinned at each other. Maybe this night was better than I thought it would be.
Part Three
"Hey," I yelled over the noise of the club. "Is that Pete?"
Patrick glanced over to the direction I pointed to. "Yeah," he said slowly. "I think so."
Pete had his hands all over a blond girl's skinny body. She had streaks of blue and violet in her hair, and a silver stud shone over her left eyebrow. The girl wore a skimpy red shirt and a pair of tiny gray shorts. Even if she sported jean overalls and pigtails, the girl would still put a diamond to shame. That was how pretty she looked, despite her emaciated body.
I snatched Patrick's wrist and yanked him over to the bar, where I ordered another glass of beer. Patrick, on the other hand, stuck to a virgin peach and lime daiquiri. Meanwhile, Pete and the blond continued to grind against each other, having the time of their lives. Before I could ask for another beer, Joe plopped onto the barstool next to me.
"Are you watching them?" He jerked his head in Pete's direction.
"Yeah, so what?" I retorted.
"Just asking."
"How have you and Pete been getting along anyway?" Patrick asked.
"Just fine," I grumbled.
"Who said what about me?"
"Hey, Pete!" Joe exclaimed. "No one said anything about you. Right, Jenna?" He dug his elbow into my ribs.
I punched him lightly in the shoulder. "Sure."
"Where's that girl you were getting it down with?" Joe kidded.
"Ha-ha. Very funny." He shot a wary glance in my direction. "And her name is Kat."
"Ooooh, you even know her name!"
"Would you cut that out, Joe? C'mon, Jenna, let's go."
Once again Pete dragged me into the crowd of sweaty dancers, only this time I felt more than happy to follow. I would show that Kat person how much more fun it was to hang out with me and not her. Then I found myself thinking the same thing as before. You had to let the ocean carry you. If you fought, you wouldn't find your way back to the surface, just like... What did I think it was?
"Why don't you dance with Kat?" I jeered.
Pete concealed his guilt and replied, "Because I would much rather dance with you, especially now that we're starting to get along. Besides, she has a boyfriend."
"And what do you think he's going to say after he finds out that you had your hands all over her?"
Pete was drunk. I could tell by the goofy grin on his face and how funny he looked when he danced. He couldn't focus his eyes in one spot, but it appeared as though he tried to direct as much attention to me as much as he could. I also had a few beers myself, and I felt pretty funny, too.
"Kat's boyfriend isn't here," Pete explained. "Girls' night out to have fun."
"Yeah, fun."
"Look, Jenna. Forget about her." He shot me a sweet smile. No wonder why girls always fell for him. "I really like you, know that?"
"Sure you do."
"Jenna." He gently pulled me close. "I do. Honestly."
I felt a pair of soft lips press against my neck. My head spun from excitement (and drunkenness), causing my thoughts to disperse. Pete was all that mattered to me at that moment. I traced his outline with my eyes, trying to capture every detail and commit it to memory.
He smiled and said, "Later do you want to go to my apartment?" Pete planted a kiss on my lips. "We'd have a great time." Another kiss. "Just you and me."
I saw the drunken hunger and lust in his eyes but didn't recognize it at that time. I wanted to fully prove to him that I liked him now. Or did my body also hunger for his like he did mine?
"Sure." I pressed my body close to his and laid him a wet one. "Just you and me."
He licked his lips and grinned. "After we get outta here."
Never before had I felt so good. The ocean swallowed me into its deep dark waters, sending me further down to the sandy bottom. I already knew it would be too late to try and find the surface, so I didn't fight the strong raging currents. Whether I did or didn't, it wouldn't have mattered; either way I knew it would end in tears.
Part Four
"Have you seen Pete?" I asked Andy.
"He left about half an hour ago. Mm..."
I twitched at the sight of Andy sticking his tongue down a girl's throat.
"Would you stop making out with her for a second?!" I screamed.
Andy and the girl on his lap stared at me. He continued to stroke her bare leg with his finger although his eyes focused on me. Obviously he had not appreciated the disturbance, but I just couldn't find Pete anywhere.
"What do you want, Jenna?" he grumbled. "I told you. Pete left."
My mouth dropped.
"Let's go." I pulled him to his feet, causing the girl to scramble off him. "We are getting Patrick and Joe. I am not being dissed. I cannot believe him!"
"Andy!" the girl whined.
He yanked his arm from my grasp. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Pete was supposed to..." I was still drunk and tried to think of a decent lie. "...drive me home."
"Get Patrick to do it. I was busy here!"
"Look, we're leaving, and Patrick will drive me to Pete's place to teach him a lesson."
"But--"
"Let's go!"
I dragged Andy along, who desperately tried to apologize to the girl but to no avail. She angrily crossed her arms and stomped off. After that, Andy gave up trying to fight me; it was as though his fire had just been doused. In other circumstances I would have felt sorry for him, but I had my own problems to worry about.
"Jenna, what..." Joe began.
"Down your drink. We're leaving."
"Joe," Andy warned. "Do what she says, or she'll drag you by your ear."
"Where is Patrick?" I asked, ignoring Andy.
"Right there." Joe pointed to a spot down the bar counter.
He was chatting with a shy-looking lady, sharing what seemed to be a piña colada. As soon as he spotted me, concern crossed his face. The lady spun around but quickly averted her eyes. She returned to her drink and silently listened to the conversations around her. During normal times, I would have introduced myself, but this was a special situation.
"Patrick, do you mind if we leave now?"
"Why? Is there something wrong?" Patrick asked.
"I need you to drive me to Pete's apartment. That stupid bastard left me here. He was supposed to take me home, and he, um, has something of mine."
"Can't you get it tomorrow?"
He took a glimpse at the lady.
"Please, Patrick," I pleaded. "Just do me this one favor."
He sighed. The woman nodded and smiled considerately at him. Patrick wrote something down on her napkin and presented her with a quick peck on the cheek. They both blushed a deep scarlet, smiles slowing creeping onto their faces.
Okay, he said to us. "I'm ready to go."
-------------------------
I angrily stomped up the steps to Pete's apartment, number forty-seven according to Patrick. They waited in the parking lot in case Pete refused to do anything for me, which was more than likely. I didn't know what I would tell them when I came back empty handed, but I worried even more about what to say to Pete.
The subsiding alcohol made me feel more and more sober with each step. What the hell was I doing? I would knock on Pete's door and possibly yell at him. Then what? Would I forgive him? Would he forgive me? Maybe we could fall into each other's arms, lie in his bed, and watch the cow jump over the moon.
I stared foolishly at Pete's door. If I tapped lightly enough, maybe he wouldn't hear it. Then I could tell the guys that he was asleep and didn't know I knocked. I wasn't exactly telling the truth, but it wasn't really lying either. Right? Then it would contradict my rushed pleads back in the club. I had to confront him. He left me back there. Hell, he might as well break my heart right then and there.
I pounded the thick heavy door and put on the hardest face I had.
"Hm?"
The door swung open to reveal Pete, wearing only a pair of gray boxers. The salty scent of sweat hit my nose right when the door cracked open, but it was mixed with the candied smell of a woman's perfume. He rubbed his droopy eyes but quickly woke up as soon as he realized who I was. Smeared lip stick and kiss marks decorated his face and other parts of his body. His disheveled hair stuck out in all directions like a pile of dead twigs, adding to his cluttered, sleepy look.
"What are you doing here?" Pete asked soberly.
I wiped the shock off my face and tried to ignore what I saw beyond the doorway. A woman's clothing and lingerie littered the tan carpet, seemingly alien compared to Pete's grungy and masculine ambiance. On top of his bed, backed into the corner of his apartment, lay a naked woman, covered only by a light blanket. Her bare shoulders shone milky white in the shadows, like the moon itself, while her eyebrow stud glinted in the darkness.
My mouth hung open, unable to emit a sound.
"Jenna, please don't--"
I didn't hear the rest of the sentence because I ran. I ran recklessly and fast, speeding down the steps with droplets of tears racing down my cheeks. Deeper and deeper I sank. The ocean filled my heart and lungs with its power, tossing me around like a tiny fish. I didn't bother to struggle against its indomitable strength, for I knew as soon as I hit the monstrous waters, I would be captured, just like love had ensnared me.