Pete's palms sweat as he approaches the restaurant. He's normally not this nervous about anything, especially with his line of work, but he's never exactly had a blind date before.
The woman he's been talking to was someone he met online, under a screen name. She's never seen his face or known his real name before now, and he prays she doesn't recognize him.
He pulls open the door, stepping inside timidly, nervous to make eye contact with the hostess. When he does, he notices her dropped jaw and wide eyes, and he feels himself shrivel up.
"H-How can I help you?" She stammers, clearly in awe.
"Just looking for someone," Pete mumbles, moving by her quickly. He feels the eyes of several others on him, and looks around for where his date claimed she'd be.
There, sitting in a corner booth on her phone, is a beautiful brunette. She's got olive skin and silky hair tied into a topknot. Her hazel eyes are downcast at the screen, mindlessly scrolling through her apps until her mysterious date--Pete--arrives.
He takes a deep breath, prays in his head, and approaches the table with a charming smile.
"Hey," Pete says casually, rather slow against the rapid beat of his heart.
Her eyes bounce up to him, watching as he sinks into the seat across from her. Then, she starts to grin.
"Pete Wentz!" She exclaims.
People look toward the booth, and Pete's smile fades, and wants nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die. When he doesn't respond, she continues to talk.
"You know I absolutely love you, right?" She giggles. "I watch your stuff every night!"
Pete offers a weak smile. "Thanks."
"It's amazing! All of it! I've had a crush on you ever since you started filming!"
His heart pounds, heat pools under his arms, sweat trickles down his spine. He ponders just getting up and walking away.
"What was it like fucking Apricot Smith?" She gushes. "Or Miss Lovely? Or Katie Steele?"
Pete can't even think at this point. He just stares blankly, throat tightening, eyes tingling with tears.
"And all those gay scenes?" She smacks the table. "I think you're the most popular pornstar because you shoot with men and women!"
He can't take it anymore. He mumbles some shitty excuse about a family emergency and stands on wobbly knees, fleeing from the restaurant before anyone can snag a picture.
Once he's in his car, he begins to cry, heartbroken, mourning the chance at a normal relationship with someone. He tries to start his car, drive away, but a mile down the road he can't see through his tears and pulls off into some parking lot where he lets himself sob wholeheartedly into his hands.
It's therapeutic actually, being able to be emotional with nobody around to judge him. No cameras, no fans, no--
Knock, knock
Pete sniffles, hushing his cries, looking to the source of the noise, a knock on his car window. The person on the other side doesn't look excited to see him or angry that he's taking up a parking spot wallowing in self pity, no, they actually look concerned.
They knock again, tilting their head slightly, strawberry blond strands falling to the side. Against his better judgement, he rolls down his window.
"Can I help you?" Pete croaks.
"Are you okay?"
The voice is light and harmonious, slightly nasally, which Pete is quick to attribute to sickness due to the redness around the nose of the pale skinned boy.
