𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐬 | pete davidson

thirty one: the night at pete's

"Fred and Daphne?"

Pete scoffed. "That'd never work... Fred doesn't look the least bit anorexic." Dahlia gasped, smacking his shoulder with the empty sleeve of her borrowed hoodie. "Pete--!"

He was sprawled out on his couch, his feet propped up on his wobbly coffeetable. A weird change for Dahlia, who's only other home away from home was Jack's.

Pete stretched himself out like a Golden Lab, his balled fists raised high above his head that Dahlia could barely make them out.

"And I am not wearing an ascot, so you can just erase the idea from your squirrel-ass head."

Dahlia laughs breathlessly, a hand slapped over her mouth, "So I'm a squirrel now?"

"Yeah, well, I'm a meerkat. You wanna switch?" Pete playfully teases.

Dahlia just rolls her eyes as she gets up from the couch. Pete, slumped deep into his couch as if he were a slice of butter melting on a bed of fresh pancakes, took a pull from his still lit joint between his lips and pull the smoke out from his nose. He let his head roll back against the couch, letting the headrest support his neck.

His eyes focused as they followed Dahlia as she trudged through the living room and towards the kitchen. He noticed her socked feet dragging against the floor. He could tell she was starting to get tired.

Pete's attention hesitantly turned back to face his TV, surprising him every time he turned away from the TV and back again to find himself watching Austin Powers. "Oh yeah..." He'd say nonchalantly every single time.

Dahlia hadn't caught on to him doing this, she was much too occupied with what she wanted so badly to appear on her phone.

Slipping the plastic wrap off of the bag of popcorn kernels and sliding it face down into the microwave, Dahlia pulled out her phone from the pouch pocket and opened her messages.

She punches in two minutes on the microwave before heading back towards the couch, pulling her screen to refresh her messages.

Still no word from Mr. Veramente.

Dahlia stopped halfway in the hallway. Staring at her phone in disbelief, all that escapes from her lips is a weary sigh of disappointment, exhaustion, and sorrow.

There's no way he didn't want to talk to me. Especially after everything that's happened?

Dahlia couldn't even go on social media without seeing the whole world talk about her life and making all these insensitive conspiracy theories on who could have done it.

The last 24 hours have been the most down Dahlia has ever felt. And now, to add icing on the crap cake, she couldn't get ahold of Jack.

Did he care about her? She wondered. Like all the times he's told her. Or was she really just a pet to him? Meant to be replaced eventually...

She winced at the thought of herself so low. It didn't occur to her that even her own words could sting like the venomous bite of gossiping strangers.

Dahlia blinked, pulling herself out of her head and bringing herself back down to earth.

Her eyes met swiftly with Pete's, as if they were both powerful magnets. Pete had his head and shoulders relaxed all the way so that he was bent back over the couch, he hung halfway upside down as he and Dahlia shared a long connection.

She blinked, stunned at him as he raised the joint between his middle and ring finger to his lips, pulling it and billowing clouds of smoke from his nose.