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The hurried clopping of high heels on concrete trails away from Hatchetfield High’s cacophony of loud music and revelry, following two teenagers out into the quiet chill of the parking lot. Steph is pulling gently but firmly on Pete’s hand, and she guides him to sit at the bottom of a flight of stairs.
“Hey. You okay?” She looks him in the eye, concern and sad understanding obvious on her face. They had been dancing, having a whale of a time at Homecoming, when Pete had suddenly gone quiet, a faraway look in his eyes. She likes to think she knows him well enough at this point to recognise what that was about. And really, how could she not? The same feeling that showed so plainly on his face is bubbling up inside her too. She nervously smooths her dress down with her hands and tucks her feet closer to the stair she’s sitting on, just to feel the pressure of it against her heels, grounding. She sits on the hand that’s not holding Pete’s. “Okay, stupid question. I know.”
He visibly swallows, staring at the ground hard. “Yeah.” A beat of silence, a pang of foolish hurt in Steph’s chest that she mentally waves away. “I mean, uh… shit. Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It wasn’t stupid.” He looks at her for the first time since the dance floor, guilt in his gaze. The injustice of that tears at her. She wants to explode, to scream and cry and rip at something, but she just gives him a weak smile and squeezes his hand. He squeezes back. A single butterfly gets through the haze of whatever feeling it is that’s currently trying to fill her up, and flits around joyously in her stomach.
“No, don’t worry about it, Pete. Really. I just don’t really know what to say.”
He huffs out a dry laugh. “Tell me about it… Sorry I brought the mood down.”
She tugs at his hand a little and sighs in frustration. “Pete. Come on. You really think I’m not in the same boat? I meant what I said to Grace; we’re in this together. And… I was kinda starting to feel like shit too. I don’t really know…” she trails off. He nods thoughtfully.
“Yeah.” They stare at the ground, hands clasped together between them and knees lightly brushing, while they think in silence for a few moments. Then Pete licks his dry lips and speaks again, voice breaking. “I guess I just wish Richie and Ruth were here.”
Something about that simple statement hits the dam inside of Steph like a hammer and chisel; not enough to collapse the whole thing, but enough to make a sizeable crack. It’s so obvious now. Of course that’s what was hanging over them, and why it got to Pete visibly first. They were his best friends. His only friends, maybe, before Steph. She squeezes his hand hard, letting up a little when she feels him flinch. “God, me too. I’m so sorry, Pete.”
“Why? It’s not your fault.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Another small silence. A cricket starts chirping somewhere nearby. The sheer cliché of that almost makes a laugh burst from Steph. Instead, she shuffles a little closer to Pete, seeking the warmth of his arm touching hers. For comfort? She guesses so, but she tells herself it’s also because it’s a bit chilly and she didn’t bring a jacket. He leans into the touch. They smile down at their own laps.
“Steph?”
“Yeah?” She answers a little too fast for her own comfort.
“As fucked up as this all was… maybe this is selfish to say, but I’m glad you… went through it too. Or rather, I’m glad we had each other’s backs through it. Y’know?” She nods, thinking it through. He goes on. “I mean, yeah, Grace was there too but she’s fuckin’ weird. I don’t know if I’d consider her a close friend or anything. Don’t tell her I said that.”
Steph barks out a laugh. “That’s true. Me neither, I guess. I dunno, maybe in a weird way.” She strokes his hand a little with her thumb absentmindedly. “And yeah, I’m glad you were there too… even though it was fucked. Like… I can’t imagine having gone through all that shit and having nobody to talk to about it.”
“Yeah! Totally.” He seems relieved that she understands what he’s going for. The unease hanging over them begins to shift away, thank god.
“I gotta say, as much as I hate the guy… I’m so fucking glad Max stopped that bullet.” God, why did she have to say that? The tension comes back to Pete’s shoulders, and she feels guilty.
“You’re telling me.” His voice is tight.
“Sorry for bringing it up.”
He takes a deep, shaky breath and seems to mentally shake himself. “Nah. If we can’t bring it up it’s just gonna become even more of a thing. I dunno. It’s probably healthy to just talk about it, right? It was real. It happened. I don’t know if I’m making sense right now.”
She nods. “You are. And yeah, I think you’re right, but that doesn’t mean… I dunno. Doesn’t mean I should’ve brought it up right now.”
Pete chuckles. “We’re bad at this, huh?” He shoots her a look, warm and a little cheeky. She laughs, a little nervously.
“At what?”
“The dating thing.” Dating. The butterfly is back, and it made friends. “I mean… you know. Can’t go to Pasqualli’s without getting my ass kicked in the parking lot. Can’t go to Homecoming without bringing up that time I almost died.”
She laughs again. Even in a situation this shitty, he’s still funny. Her chest swells with affection. “I think that kinda suits us though, don’t you? Wouldn’t be right if it was just easy.”
He mulls that over for a second. “Yeah.” He stares at her for a long moment, thoughtful and full of a quiet giddiness. Her cheeks feel warm.
“The football game was fun, at least.” The reminder makes his smile widen to an easy grin. God, she wants to kiss him. She doesn’t.
“Yeah! To be honest, I wasn’t really totally sure what you meant when you said we could go ‘sarcastically,’ but… in the end, I had fun.”
“Well, good. I’m glad.” Pause. “Okay, my hand is getting sweaty. Sorry, can I-?”
“Oh, yeah. Sure.” He lets go of her hand. She wipes it on her dress. She leans back, supporting herself with both forearms on the cool concrete. He twists a little to look back at her. She sighs.
“… Okay. Fuck this, I’m getting cold sitting here. You wanna go back inside, or get outta here? Your call.”
He laughs in surprise and puts on a mock-scandalised tone. “My goodness, Steph, how forward. Pray tell, where else would we go?” He wiggles his eyebrows.
She sits back up and shoves him lightly. “Shut the fuck up, Spankoffski, that’s not what I meant.” She knows she’s blushing, but she refuses to acknowledge it. She fiddles with her hair idly, looking at her shoes to collect herself. “Honestly I kinda just wanna go the fuck to bed. I’m exhausted. I feel like I could sleep for a year.” As she says it, she realises how true it is. Weariness tugs at her bones and makes her think wistfully of her pillow.
“Amen to that.” He looks thoughtful and serious for a moment. “You gonna be okay at home? I mean… your dad…” he trails off.
She takes a deep breath. She was trying not to think about that. “I… I think tonight I’ll probably be fine, just ‘cause I’m so tired. But… yeah, I dunno. Empty house might get to me after that. The reality hasn’t quite set in yet, I think.”
He nods. “Well, don’t hesitate to call if you need someone to talk to, okay? I don’t give a shit if it’s three in the morning. You have my number.”
She exhales through her nose, a tiny laugh. “You say that now.”
“Yeah, and I mean it.” He puts his hand on hers again.
“Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.” Pause. “Same goes to you, by the way.”
“Okay.”
A moment passes, full of dull thoughts about the expectations around being alone tonight; are they supposed to kiss? Do something romantic and cheesy to fill the crisp night air? The idea seems distant, like it belongs to someone else for now, the call of bed and sleep pulling more insistently at them both now. Pete stands, offering a hand to help Steph up, remembering her complaints from earlier about not quite being used to heels. She takes it gratefully, standing up with the slightest wobble. They wander home in comfortable silence, hands held and swinging back and forth. Privately, they both think they couldn’t ask for a better Homecoming.