Mr. Illinois (a Pete Wentz Fan Fiction)

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Damon's POV

"What's do you mean she never came back?!" I heard Nate yell. "Damon!"

I sighed and walked into his office. "Yes, Mr. Craig?"

"Did you bring Natasha anywhere after dropping her off at the hotel?" he asked accusingly.

"No, sir. I was with you." God, this man was a temperamental five year old.

"Then where is she?!" he whined. "I called the hotel and they said she left with some man last night and never came back! Do you know anything about this?"

"Well, she did have me drop off a friend at his house," I reported.

"What?! Tell me his name!"

"Didn't get one. She just called him: 'Illinois'"

Craig let out a load groan.

He was a sick bastard. Why was he so obsessed her? He was going to get married in a couple weeks. "Sorry, maybe give her some time to turn up," I suggested and turned to the door.

"You can go, Damon. But if she does contact you, you tell right away," he demanded.

I nodded. Sadly, he had too much on me. I had to do what he said, otherwise I wouldn't be working for this bastard.

Pete's POV

I woke with someone curled up next to me. Who did I sleep with last night? I rolled over to see who and saw Princeton. Fully clothed and god, she was beautiful.

"Oh, god," she moaned, bringing her hands up to her face.

"Hey," I greeted. "What's up?"

"Nothing," she muttered.

"You sure?"

"Yeah," she. "I'm sorry, I'll go. I didn't mean to fall asleep." Nat stood up, gathered her things, and headed for the door.

"Hey." I caught her arm. "You don't have to leave," I told her.

"You've spent so much time with me. I've got to be annoying you."

"But you're not," I pouted and gave her puppy dog eyes. "Stay?"

"Heh," she chuckled and jumped back on to the bed. "Now, that we're both ill what are we going to do?"

"I don't know, I can see what there is for breakfast," I suggested. "Then we can watch a movie or something."

Natasha nodded. "Do you actually have anything? You live in LA mainly, right?"

"Usually one of my assistants restocks my fridge."

"So posh," she mocked and walked over to the fridge. "Well, you're right. What do you want me to make?"

"You don't have to cook, there's cereal or something else. We're both sick." I felt bad. Princeton was my guest and she was making breakfast.

"Pete, it's fine. I feel bad for taking up so much of your time and I love cooking so it's no biggie," she reassured.

"Are you sure?" I sat down at the kitchen island. Why was she so paranoid about things like that? I loved her company.

"Yeah. Want pancakes or waffles?"

I shrugged, still not totally sure why she insisted on making breakfast.

She dug through all my cabinets finding all the ingredients.

"Um... Whisk, please?" Nat handed me a bowl and whisk.

"Yes, sir." I saluted and took the bowl.

She turned to the cabinets again and muttered, "Where the hell are your pans?"

"I would have no idea."

Princeton continued to dig around until she found it. "Found it. Done with that?"

"Yeah. Do you need anything else?"

"Not right now, but maybe you'd like to flip them," she suggested and prepared the pan and stove. After a few minutes she took the pan off the stove and beckoned me. "Try not to stick it to the ceiling."

I laughed and tossed the pancake.

"Too much velocity," she said as it fell to the floor.

"Sorry." I bent over and cleaned up the mess.

"Meh. You weren't expecting the thinner and far more superior European pancakes," Princeton told me and poured some more batter into the pan. "Like so." And she flipped it with ease.

After more attempts and failures, I decided to let Natasha cook and I got drinks and condiments and set the table.

"Drink?" I asked.

"Do you have orange juice?"

I nodded, poured the drinks, sat down at the kitchen island, and watched her cook.

"Bon appetit!" she said and placed a plate piled high with thin pancakes.

"These are really good!" I exclaimed after taking a bite.

She grinned. "I know, that's why I made them."

"Cocky, much?"

"Told you they were superior to American pancakes."

I laughed and pulled her into a sideways hug.

She squeaked in surprise and accidentally knocked over her drink. "God, I mess everything up, don't I?" she muttered.

"Hey, it's okay. It's just a spill," I told her and mopped up the spill. "I should know, I have a three year old."

"Yeah," she said with a small smile that didn't reach her eyes which faded quickly. "I've managed to ruin three outfits in 24 hours."

I chuckled. "C'mon, finish up and I'll take you back to your hotel to pick out a new outfit," I mocked.

"Yeah." Princeton shoved a pancake in her mouth and started to clean up the dishes.

I sighed and tried to stop her. "Why are you so insistent about doing things you don't need to?"

"Because it's polite. Because habits die hard." She put the plates down. "Anyways, I'm going to grab my bag," Nat said, kissed my cheek, and ran off.

I picked up where she left of and pondered what Natasha said. She always messed things up? I mean, everybody screws up. Nothing is wrong with that.

"Hello." She appeared in the doorway with her bag and coat on.

"Hey," I greeted and walked over. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah," she muttered and kissed me.

"Let's go," I murmured. I think I love her. I've known her only a day, but she's kind and beautiful and just overall amazing.

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A/N: So I updated! It's been what? Two weeks? Sorry, [insert complaints about rowing and school]. But I've come back and the next chapter is in the works. So wait another two weeks maybe? Anyways, back to logarithms, carbohydrates, and Sodium Bicarbonate. Those have nothing to do with each other, other than the fact they are to do with my home work. In case you were wondering. You weren't? Oh, sorry.

--Justafootnote