“You weren’t wearing much last night. I bet Dylan appreciated your short skirt,” he said, taking another bite of his donut.
No way. There was no way, my sweet, loveable Pete was implying I was dressed like a…. A sheen of red filled my vision, and I curled my fingers into my palms so hard they ached.
Instead of slapping him upside the head, I scuffed the toe of my sneaker across the dirt, ignoring the stinging in my eyes. “Are you saying these things to get back at me? Because if you are, it’s working.”
He finished his donut and wiped his palms on his jeans, leaving a trail of powder on them. “I’m being a jerk, aren’t I?”
Grabbing napkins, I brushed away the stains. “Next time, Mr. Jerk, use a napkin, not your clothes,” I grumbled, and before I could clean his face, he took my wrist and held my hand on his leg.
“Why are you babying me? I have a mother for that.” He had the audacity to snarl at me.
“Enough with your tantrum, Peter Michael. What’s going on with you?”
He swallowed and stared at the water. His fingers dug into my hand and then twined our fingers together. “I overreacted. I’m afraid Dylan’s going to steal you from me.”
“What? That makes no sense. He can’t steal me away from you. You’re my best friend.”
“Only your best friend?” he asked softly and released me. I rubbed my wrist. His phantom touch was embedded in my skin.
“I’m confused by you and what happened last night. We’ve always been honest with one another. I can handle whatever you tell me, even if”—I bit my lip and chewed at the skin there—“you end up hating me for something horrible you think I did.”
“Wendy, seeing you and that guy together tore me up.” Pete’s voice shook, and his eyes were red, his eyelashes wet with tears.
“Please, please don’t hate me. If you did….I wasn’t thinking, I—” I dropped my face into my palms. I didn’t know how to fix this.
He cursed. When his arms came around me, I sighed in relief. I rubbed my face in his shirt and gripped the waistband of his jeans.
His mouth rubbed against my cheek. “I could never hate you. I love you too much.”
I held him tighter and placed a kissed over his heart.
***
“Are you feeling better?” I asked.
“Yes,” Pete mumbled against my shoulder and wrapped his arms around me. He thought it was better if we sat in the backseat of his car under a group of trees to give us privacy. The windows stayed opened to let air in and the radio on to some light music station. When we got settled in, he asked if he could hold me. I was more than willing, the second he embraced me, it seemed everything was perfect between us again.
I played with his hair, and he hid his face in the crook of my neck. He started to apologize, but then broke down in tears. I rocked him, hating seeing him upset like this.
“Everyone knows Anthony was drunk. But can you tell me what made you finally snap and punch him? You’ve always ignored him before. Why go after him in front of the entire junior class?” I asked.
He moved his head away and wiped his eyes. I took a tissue out from the donut bag and gave it to him. As he blew his nose, I brushed the hair away from his eyes.
He sighed. “I’m a total girl. I’ll never live this down.”
“Why? Because you’re crying? Hello, you’re due for a good sob fest. You can blame it on PMS.”
He let out a watery laugh and laid his head on my shoulder again. I combed my fingers through his hair. He pushed his hand under my shirt and lightly tickled my stomach. If Dylan had done the same, I would’ve smacked him. But Pete was…Pete, and I didn’t mind at all. He shifted in closer and traced my shoulder with his fingers.
We didn’t say anything for a while. He would tell me when he was ready.
My eyes dipped, and I grew drowsy and yawned. He moved and sat away from me with his hands in his lap. He had ripped the tissue apart.
He stared straight ahead. “I wasn’t going to come to Mayone’s party, but thought, what the heck. I’m sick of hearing Dad complain how I have no life. You should’ve seen his whole face light up when I asked to borrow the car. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him happy over something I did. He didn’t even give me a curfew. Can you believe that? When I got there, I couldn’t find you anywhere. Pam even came up to me and was nice for a change.”
I didn’t say anything. If I knew Pam as well as I did, she covered for me while I was with Dylan.
His eyes were wet again. “While we talked, Anthony bumped into me and said the usual. Called me Patchy and Pity and then—”
I pushed away the hair drooping over his forehead. “Then what?”
He grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “He said you were making out with Dylan, probably giving him a blow job. He called you a whore. I lost it and punched him. I think Pam tried to stop me, but I pushed her away, and then Toby and Conner were there. Toby got all up in my face. Then Conner clocked me in the eye. Before Conner could take another swing at me, Toby and some other guys held Conner back, and then you and Dylan showed up.”
I shook with rage. “That’s not true. I’m so glad you punched that drunken idiot out.”
He sniffed and more tears fell from his eyes.
“It’s all over now. You’re my hero.”
He hugged me tightly, his warm cheek against mine. “Where were you? I thought…damn. As I drove up the driveway, I noticed a guy and a girl kissing near the trees. That was you and Dylan, right?”
I didn’t say anything, and he pulled away. I opened my mouth, but he circled my lips with his finger and made his way down to my neck and pressed. I flinched. It felt sore there.
Oh, no. I had a hickey.
Lying wouldn’t get me out of this one.
“We only kissed. It’s not a big deal.”
He drew his hands through his hair. “Not a big deal, huh?”
“I was curious. You can’t blame a girl for being interested.”
He flinched as if I’d hit him and then did something unexpected. He cupped my head in between his hands and rested his forehead against mine. “Wendy, you don’t understand. It shouldn’t be him. It should be.…”
He swallowed and his hands shook. Mine did also as I placed them over his.
“Where is this all coming from? You’re scaring me.”
He released me and sat back, rubbing his face. His right eye was swollen and probably would be shut by tomorrow.
“What are you going to tell your parents about your face?” I needed to change the tone of the conversation and fast.
“Nice way to change the conversation.” He snorted and wiped under his nose. “I don’t know. I’ll go home and put an ice pack on it and hope for the best.”
“Okay. Grab the pack and come over—”
“No, Wendy. I need time alone.”
Now I felt like I’d been hit in the face. “Why? Is this because you saw me kiss—”
He barked out a hollow laugh that hurt my ears. “What do you think? You can’t be that stupid.”
I lifted up my hands and then dropped them down again. I felt like I was starring in an episode of that old-school show, The Twilight Zone. “I don’t want to argue anymore. My head’s spinning.”
He nodded and wiped his nose again.
“How about we go for a ride in the park? You always feel better after you do. After, we can have lunch and maybe watch a movie?” I hoped he would say yes. For once, I was excited to go biking.
“I don’t feel like biking or watching a movie with you.”
I winced at his bitter sounding with you. “How about tomorrow after school?” I jostled his knee.
He flicked my hand away. I swallowed down my hurt and dropped my arms to my sides.
“I’m working at the store tomorrow after school.”
“What about after work? Are you going to sleep over?”
He didn’t answer and got out of the car. I did the same and met him by th
e driver’s side. He had his keychain out, and when I wouldn’t move, he glowered at me.
“Not tonight or tomorrow night. I’m not in the mood.” He glared at my neck.
I fingered my collarbone and hunched my shoulders. “You’re upset with me again.”
He ran his palm down his face and exhaled. “I guess. I don’t know how I’m feeling right now. What I do know is that I want to go home and take a nap. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
I held back from telling him about my sleepless night—I didn’t want to sound whiny. I turned and grabbed my bike. He examined the ground. He seemed lost again, and it took all I had not to hug him.
“Are you that upset with me you won’t drive me home?” My voice cracked, and I coughed to cover it.
He took my bike and stored it in the backseat. I got into the passenger side. When he got in and started the car, I smiled and thanked him. He didn’t smile or say anything in return.
We both were silent on the way home. I didn’t try to engage him in conversation and neither did he.
“My parents are home,” I said as we left the car, noticing my parents’ car in my driveway.
“Looks like it. See you tomorrow at school.” He sprinted away.
“Don’t I even get a hug?”
“No.” He disappeared into his house without saying another word.
Tears came to my eyes. I tried holding them back. I waited at the end of Pete’s driveway, thinking he would come out again. He never did. I finally went into my house.
“Wendy, come here,” Mom called from the living room.
I sighed, catching my reflection in the hall mirror. My hair was a tangled mess and my clothes wrinkled. There was a small, noticeable purple bruise on my neck, under my chin. Not only had I received my first kiss, but I’d been given my first hickey.
“Give me a minute, I need to pee,” I yelled, and went into the first-floor bathroom, turned on the water in the sink, and sat on the toilet as a few tears slid down my cheeks. Now it made perfect sense why Pete could barely meet my gaze. He must think I was such a slut for acting the way I did with Dylan.
But, it was only kissing and some touching. Why would he be so upset?
I flushed the toilet and wiped my eyes then a thought popped in my head.
It suddenly came to me why he was pissed at me.
Oh God, I’ve been so stupid. He should’ve been the first one to kiss me, not Dylan.
And because he hadn’t, I might have ruined everything between us.
Chapter Twelve
Sundays were for church and family. Every week we attended ten-thirty morning mass. I would wear some dress or nice shirt and skirt and sit in between my parents, praying for forgiveness for whatever sin I committed during the week.
I never understood the guilt a Catholic soul could feel until I realized Pete wanted to be the first to kiss me. How could I be so blind and not see?
After the events of the past few days, I needed to pray for my soul. When I returned home after the lake, Mom gave me a lecture on being irresponsible for not calling her even after I talked to Dad. Thank God she didn’t notice my hickey. I made sure to slap a ton of cover up on it because the small purple bruise glowed like a highlighted sentence on a white piece of paper.
I spent the day helping Dad with the lawn and garden, cleaning the house and my bedroom, and finishing up my homework for school. Pete didn’t come over to see me. I didn’t go see him. I was stubborn like that. What could I possibly say to fix things between us?
Pam called me. Our conversation was polite but canned. She harped on about me going out with Dylan. I told her to cut it out, I wasn’t interested. Soon after, we ended the call and not in a friendly way. Knowing Pam like I did, she probably bitched about to me to all our friends.
I lay wide awake for hours in my bedroom waiting for Pete to climb through my window, to hold me in his arms, and tell me everything would be okay between us. He never did.
By Monday morning, I was exhausted and couldn’t stop yawning. He didn’t walk with me to school. When we saw each other in the hallway, he turned the other way. He was missing at lunch.
The next week flew by. I kept to myself and couldn’t sleep at night because Pete wasn’t there. When I called him on the phone or went over to his house to try and see him, he was either at work or over at Kyle’s. I hated that he might have a new best friend.
Dylan kept his distance. He didn’t approach me or go out of his way to talk to me or ask me out anymore. It was like his party and our kissing and his caveman act never happened.
I became lonely, depressed, and upset. I’d never felt so hopeless as I did then.
I started riding my bike more often to school. Afterwards, I would go to the park, hoping to see Pete there. He never showed. One morning I saw him in the school parking lot, but before I could catch him, he disappeared into the building.
Another Friday arrived, almost two weeks after the disaster at Dylan’s house. Other than Susie, Jess, and Christina, no one really went out of their way to talk to me, or perhaps it felt that way. It would be another weekend sitting home, reading or watching movies with my parents. I just wasn’t up for company. I’d become such a loser.
I was checking out the bulletin board near the main office to see if there were any interesting jobs available in town I could apply for. I’d just grabbed the piece of paper with a phone number for a café needing a counter person, when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around.
“Hi, stranger.” Dylan smiled and put his hands in his jean pockets.
I was proud of myself for acting like nothing weird had happened between us. “How’s it going?”
He rubbed the back of his head. “Things could be better. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
“There’s a four-hour marathon of VH1’s hottest rock stars I really want to watch on TV this afternoon, but for you, I can make the exception.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Same old Wendy.”
“You act like you haven’t seen me in years.”
“It feels like it’s been years. In the mood for some coffee? I’ll buy.”
“That’s more than just a few minutes.”
He sighed loudly. “You got me there. Do you have any place you need to be other than a date with your television?”
“Nope. It can wait.” I slapped the piece of paper against my palm. “I have just the place.”
***
I had a strange sense of déjà vu. This felt much like the Saturday when I drove his car to his house. This time he drove and I was the passenger.
We ended up at Bump N’ Grind café. It wasn’t my type of place because I’d never been a big coffee drinker. But Dylan was in the mood for caffeine, and I wanted to scope out the place since they were hiring. I chose this, instead of some other coffee chain where the majority of the kids in my school hung out.
The café had a nice, cozy feel to it, with couches and love seats covered with pillows, and different sizes of tables filled the room. Classical-sounding music played softly through the speakers, and the aroma of coffee and freshly baked cookies made my stomach growl.
He scanned the area. “This place rocks.”
The surprises kept on coming. “I thought you’d be turned off. This is a bit girly, don’t you think?”
He blessed me with that charming smile of his. “The Village section of Manhattan is overrun with a bunch of these great coffee houses like Bump N’ Grind. My old crowd used to visit the cafés in the area and listen to music and talk for hours.”
“You’re pretty well rounded for your age.”
He draped an arm over my shoulders before I could stop him. “Stick with me kid, and you’ll go places.”
I lifted my shoulders to get him to remove his arm. He dropped his arm away and a flag of red appeared on his cheeks.
“Dylan, I—”
“I understand you don’t want me to touch you. I was a major dickhead that night,
and I want to apologize. I never meant to upset you or ruin our friendship. You’re an important person in my life now, and I don’t want you to end up hating me.”
Everything he said was how I felt about Pete, excluding the dickhead part for obvious reasons.
He stepped back, giving a good foot of space between us. By the way he cracked his knuckles and the slight twitching around his mouth, he was clearly uncomfortable.
While I tried finding the words to respond to his statement, he exhaled and shook his head. “I should go—”
“No, don’t go.” I lightly rubbed his arm. “The reason I asked you to come with me here is to talk and clear the air. It’s not like you’re going to haul me into your arms and attack my mouth with all these people around.”
He chuckled and advanced, erasing the space between us. His dimpled smile and bright baby-blue eyes shone with delight. He even appeared to stand taller.
“Let’s get our drinks and find a seat,” I recommended, and we approached the counter to place our order. He ordered some large coffee drink, and I asked for an herbal tea. We’d decided to share a piece of chocolate cheesecake. We sat in the corner on an antique, dark-green couch that reminded me of my grandmother’s living room furniture.
He drank a large swallow of his coffee. “This is great. I wish I’d known you don’t like coffee. We could’ve gone someplace else.”
I took a small sip of my own drink. It was too hot for me to chug like Dylan did his. “I don’t hate coffee. I’m just not an addict. I wanted to check it out. I’m thinking of getting a job before the holidays.”
People drank and talked or read and typed on their laptops. If the tip bowl on the front counter was any indication of how well the café did, the days of having an allowance would be long gone.
He downed his coffee like it was water. I ate the cheesecake, not sure what to say. I guess any other girl would’ve been shy after what we’d shared, but for some reason, I wasn’t.
I swallowed a creamy piece of chocolate goodness and went in for the kill. “So, what’s the deal? You’ve barely talked to me for weeks, and now you need to tell me something important.”
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