Sunshine City (Petekey)

X.

After the previous night's awkwardness, the car was quiet. We'd stayed in New Hampshire and now we were driving to Vermont at night. Pete had the radio turned up, and I spent the time reading. Not like I was actually concentrating on it.

What was wrong with me? What was wrong with Pete? I mean, I thought he'd actually liked me... and what a flop that turned out to be. He'd brought a girl to our hotel room, drunk, and they had sex in the bed next to me. And I slept in a car. That was exactly how I planned on spending my evening. The dinner at the Italian place back in New York... The walk in Central Park... The fucking romantic walk he wanted to go on while we were driving into Maine... What was I supposed to think?

And how was I supposed to react when he brought a girl to the room?

"Somethings bothering you, Storm," Pete reached over and turned the radio down without even looking at it. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing you need to worry about," I shook my head.

"Tell me?"

"No."

And the music was turned back up.

This trip had taught me multiple things already. I didn't really know who to trust now. I kind of missed New Jersey, but it's hard to blame me since I hadn't been this long away from home before.

We passed the sign passing into Vermont and I sighed and put down my book, gently leaning my head against the window. I listened while Patrick Stump sang.

It's gonna get better, it's gonna work out. Just give it a minute it's gonna turn around.

Yeah right. Who actually believes in happily ever after...

I snuck a glance at Pete who was still looking at the road.

Maybe you're my happy ever after.

I was drunk on my own loneliness and it definitely wasn't one of my best nights. When I looked over at Pete again, he was crying.

"Pete." He flinched when I said his name and I reached over, placing my hand on his. "Pull over, please?" 

He turned on his directional and pulled into the overlook of a park of some sort. He drove along the gravel road and eventually stopped at the end. He turned the key and Patrick's voice stopped. I'd never been good at comforting people so we just sat alone together. For a long time. Eventually he reached his hand out and over. He grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed out, the tears falling freely. I was shocked at his sudden burst of emotion and I squeezed back, pulling him slightly closer to me.

"I'm not good with people crying in front of me," I admitted, softly. "I never know what to do."

Pete nodded, eyes red and blotchy.

"I'm sorry about her. Whoever she wa-"

I shushed him, shaking my head at him.

"Don't talk about her. I'm not mad at you, Pete. You're your own person and you can make your own decisions. I'm not going to make them for you."

"I'm frustrated," Pete admitted after a second. "Imagine the story teller being unsure of how his own story's going to end," he added, bitterly. "When you're chicken enough to not even tell the person you like that you do."

I fell silent at that, and Pete released his grip, significantly. He pulled his legs up to his chest and buried his face in them.

"When you pick up a random girl at a bar to get over your stupid sexual desires that you know you can't have. Because you know you're not good enough for him and he'll never like you back."

"Stop," I told him, wrenching his arm from his face and forcing him to look at me. I looked into his eyes for a minute, just studying him. "Stop it."

His eyes dropped quickly to my lips and back up to my eyes and I nodded.

"You could have told me, Pete. We couldn't avoided all this heartache."

"I'm sorry," Pete whispered. I leaned forward and pressed my lips gently against his. And then I pulled away.

Pete was smiling and I was smiling too. Our hands were still tightly clenched together and I started losing feeling in one of mine. Who knew this could feel like this? What even was this?

"Wow," Pete murmured. He leaned forward and our lips touched again. Fireworks were set off and I smiled gently. As I pulled away, Pete smiled gently. "I've been waiting a long time for you, Storm."

What was I supposed to say? Me too? That'd be a lie.

Instead I just kissed him again. And again. And again.

Eventually, Pete slid over into the passenger seat and half on top of me. Making out with Pete was a whole lot better than I ever than I'd ever imagined. Not that I ever did really imagine making out with him before... But it was nice and Pete was gentle. Everything about him was gentle. From the way he kissed my lips and cheek to the way he held my hands in his, rubbing them gently, to the way he moved against me. For once, the storyteller was silent.

Now he was using his body instead of his words to tell me stories and I wasn't complaining one bit. He leaned back after a second, breathing hard, and reached down for the hem of his shirt. It wasn't like I didn't want to have sex with Pete, but I didn't want to yet. So I stopped him.

"Wait, Pete I..." I placed a hand over his, stopping him. "I don't..."

He understood immediately, and stopped, releasing his shirt.

"Sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No, no," I interrupted him "I'm sorry I just-"

"Don't apologize," he shook his head. "You're not ready. It's okay, Storm."

"Maybe another time," I nodded, blushing a deep red.

"Exactly," Pete nodded. "We can continue it another time." And he moved back to his seat, turning the car on.

And he was smiling.