Seriously, We Should Definately Make Out (pete wentz)

Chapter 1~The Diner

AUTHORS NOTE-
ITS A LITTLE SLOW AT FIRST, BUT I PROMISE IT GETS BETTER IN A FEW CHAPTERS. THANKS FOR TAKING THE TIME TO READ AND PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK <3

Chapter 1~ The Diner

Pete's POV

I sighed and pushed my tired body up from my bunk on the tour bus. Despite my overwhelming exhaustion, I couldn't sleep. Maybe it was the energy drinks I downed before the show.

I stood up and pulled on my black hoodie over my plain black v neck. Too much black? Probably. I trudged my way past my sleeping bandmates and chuckled softly at their positions. It was clear that they got drunk seeing as how shot glasses and empty bottles littered the small section of the bus. Patrick's fedora rested on the bridge of his nose and he clutched a liquor bottle like a child would cuddle a teddy bear. Joe rested his legs on Andy's bare stomach, both of them sprawled on folded blankets. I guess they passed out before they had the chance to actually spread them out. I shook my head and flung the door open, stepping into the brisk Chicago air.

I wrapped my thin hoodie close to me, regretting not wearing a bigger coat. It was winter, so Chicago was snow covered and freezing. I walked past small shops until I found a small 24 hour diner. The faded neon sign was flickering and the glass door was scratched, but it was the only place that seemed to be open in this small town.

I opened the door and the ding of the bell tied to it jingled. The warm air and the scent of fresh pancakes and maple syrup enveloped me. I took a seat at the bar and ordered a decaf coffee to waste some time. Once the tired waitress took my order, I pulled my old, worn leather bound travel sized notebook out of my pocket. I mostly used it to scribble lyrics and ideas into. I allowed myself to drift into deep thought.

I jotted down a few lyrics I thought would fit with one of our songs but was quickly pulled out of my thoughts by the ding of the bell. The silence was interrupted by two girls who seemed to be in their early twenties. They walked in with tier guitar cases hanging on their shoulders and their heads thrown back, laughing at some joke they must've told before entering.

Both girls were attractive, but in different ways. One had tanner skin like mine, dark-almost black- eyes, and brown wavy hair that reached the middle of her back. She had on a leather jacket, a plaid shirt, a loose fitting tank top, black skinny jeans and black high top vans. The other girl had scarlet curly hair that reached her waist, she was pale but the kind of pale that looked healthy and alive, and she had icy blue/green eyes. She had on a green army jacket, a Panic! At The Disco tee shirt, lightly colored skinny jeans with holes, and combat boots. I smiled to myself at her choice of shirt seeing as how Brendon Urie was a close friend of mine. I slightly hoped they would notice me.

I cleared my throat a bit louder than necessary and pretended to focus on my journal but instead eavesdropped on their conversation of hushed whispers. Let's just say they suck at whispering.

"No, it's him. I swear!" one told the other.

"I can't tell, dude. I can't even see his face." At this I removed my head from its position of resting on my hand and took a sip of my coffee. "Holy shit okay okay it's him oh my god," the same girl said quickly. I repressed a chuckle that threatened to spill from my lips.

"Should we talk to him?" one continued.

"What if he's waiting for someone?"

"Then we will apologize. C'mon."

Soon enough I heard footsteps toward my seat and felt a tap on my shoulder. "Excuse me, are these seats taken?" the brunette smiled, referring to a pair of seats to my left.

"No, they're not," I smiled back. I sat up straight and took another sip of coffee so I wouldn't come across as not wanting to talk.

"You look awfully familiar," she continued.

"Do I?"

"Yeah. You're from Fall Out Boy, aren't you?" she pretended not to know, her eyes glistening with excitement.

"Yes I am," I chuckled.

"Oh my gosh, my favorite song is This Ain't a Scene It's An Arms Race. We're going to your concert tomorrow!" the red head added.

"You blew our cover!" the brunette angrily whispered to her, humor showing in her smile. "I'm Ryder, this is Ella. We're big fans," she said as she turned back to me.

"I'm Pete, but I'm guessing you knew that. So you're coming to the show tomorrow?" I asked.

"Yep," Ella spoke, popping the 'P'.

"So I know your favorite song, Ella, but what's yours?" I asked as I turned to Ryder.

"Thnks Fr Mmrs or Our Lawyer Made Us Change The Name Of This Song So We Don't Get Sued," she laughed at our ridiculous song title.

"The two songs that pissed management off the most," I laughed, remembering the angry phone calls we received. "They told us to shorten the song title so we took out the vowels and the other song speaks for itself I believe."

"Such a rebel," Ella teased.

"I know, I know," I pretended to sigh earning a giggle from the girls. They were a lot calmer than most fans which was nice. I could actually carry on a conversation. "What seats you guys got for tomorrow?"

"Section 436, row H, seats 1 and 2," Ryder told me as she took the tickets out of her pocket. I took out my journal and wrote it down on a blank paper, ignoring their curious glances.

"Well I have to get up before noon tomorrow, unfortunately, so I better get going. See you guys tomorrow," I winked and exited the diner and left the two confused girls.