𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐬 | pete davidson

eighteen: the key in the bowl

Jack said nothing.

He just sat there, across from Pete, the glare in his eyes still as venomous as it was when Jack first laid eyes on Pete.

"There." Dahlia huffed, her hand gripping Jack's chin. "Pete and I are coworkers. Nothing more, nothing less. Absolutely nothing happened."

Jack opened his mouth, mostly likely to continue insulting Pete, but Dahlia shut that down very quickly. "No, you don't get to speak. I want to hear your excuse for skipping out on me last night, but I don't want to hear you right now."

Dahlia stood up slowly, her eyes locked with Jack's never once leaving. She never let go of Jack, bringing him up to his feet along with her. "If you ever come into my home unannounced again, I'll call the cops and I'll get a restraining order on you. I won't hesitate to."

"Now, leave your key on the table and get the fuck out of my house."

Dahlia ripped her hand off of Jack, as if she were disgusted even coming into contact with him. He flashed her a look of betrayal, stunned at her reaction. He had never seen her act this way. Jack looked down at Pete once more before storming out of the living room into the foyer.

Jack said nothing.

Dahlia heard the clink of metal hit the ceramic bowl on the table in the foyer, the clicking of her locks, and the slamming of her door. She sighed, putting a hand up to her forehand before combing it through her hair.

"I'm sorry." Pete said softly.

Dahlia snapped her neck in his direction, "Please don't be. You have nothing to apologize for. I'm the one who should be saying sorry."

"I—" Pete stopped, huffing out a sigh as he rubbed his eyes. "Thank you for letting me sleep over." He smiled up at her with a weak grin, barely pulling the corners of his mouth. Dahlia just nodded at him, her arms folded over her chest.

"What's gonna happen to Snippy?" Pete made a gesture towards the door. Dahlia thought for a moment about what she was going to do about that mess. "I... I don't want you to worry about him, Pete."

"No, I'm going to worry. He was pretty aggressive with an anorexic turtle-looking motherfucker like me, when he's out here looking like Adonis. Is—Is he always like this?"

Dahlia put her hands out in defence, "No! No, I promise you he's not—"

"Why'd you answer it like that? Why'd you answer so quickly?" Pete pressed.

"Pete..." Dahlia grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest again, much tighter this time. "It's not like that."

"Dahlia, I swear, if he ever put his hands on you..." Pete swiftly stood up, his voice deepened and his brown eyes darkened into an unrecognizable black.

She felt a chill run down her back, seeing Pete overshadow her. Only now she realized Pete's hands were balled into fists, shaking from how hard he had been squeezing them.

"Pete," she took his hand in hers, his balled fist relaxed as soon as their skin touched. His fingernails had left bruised marks in his palm.

"If that ever happens, which it never will, you'll be the first person I call." She gently squeezed his hand, looking up at him with her chin on his stomach.

Pete looked away, rubbing the nape of his neck with his free hand. He shrugged, moving his head to look Dahlia in the eye more intimately.

"Could you maybe walk me out?" Dahlia smiled, nodding as she made a beeline for her UGG slippers.