Chapter 13 #2
She checked the time. It was 11:00 PM . Was this a booty call?
Generally, if a guy texted you after midnight, it was widely accepted to be a booty call, but between 10:30 and midnight was vague.
Some people may not have left their apartments yet.
To them, their night hadn’t even started.
But Avery was drunk and desperate to feel better and thrilled by the prospect of seeing Pete again, so she decided that yes, he was giving her a booty call.
And she was proud of him. He finally understood that she was only capable of giving him sex, and now she’d be able to enjoy his company while keeping an emotional distance.
i’m at Ace Bar. let’s hang later? she typed back. If she wanted to hook up somewhere that wasn’t a disgusting bathroom, she had no choice but to invite him over. my place, she added with her address.
She put her phone back in her purse and exited the stall, calmer now. Morgan stood outside the bathroom near the increasingly crowded dance floor, where the artificial smell of makeup and cologne mixed with the earthy odor of perspiration and wood. Morgan’s face lit up when she spotted Avery.
“I’m having so much fun!” she shouted over the music, her alcohol-tinged breath sharp in Avery’s ear. “I looooove you!”
Morgan never got this drunk. It was cute.
“I love you, too!” Avery said. “How are you feeling?”
Morgan yawned. Her mascara was smeared around her eyelids. “Sleepy.”
“Yeah? Wanna get out of here?”
Morgan nodded loosely, like a bobblehead.
Avery led her outside, sidestepping an entire discarded takeout meal squished into the concrete, and hailed one of the yellow cabs zipping down Avenue B.
Once Avery ushered Morgan into the backseat and the two of them were settled, Morgan zipped off her booties and flung them to the floor.
“Whoops!” she said with a giggle.
Avery laughed as she grabbed Morgan’s shoes. “I got these for you, don’t worry.” Drunk, adorable Morgan rested her head on Avery’s shoulder while Avery shot a quick text to Pete: be home in 30 min
“I’m so glad I’m getting married,” Morgan slurred.
Avery patted Morgan’s head like she was a sweet little toddler who’d done a good job. “I’m glad you are, too! You’re gonna be such a beautiful bride.”
Avery’s phone buzzed with Pete’s reply. Sounds good
Morgan’s head lolled backward on Avery’s shoulder as the cab made its bumpy way through the East Village.
“Oh, stop. You’re the bestest friend in the whole world.
But really, I am, like, so happy I don’t have to deal with men anymore.
That bar was so … crowded! The guys were so …
disgusting! Sweaty and loud and pounding their chests like gor—” Morgan hiccupped.
“Sorry. Gorillas. How can you actually talk to anyone in there? It reminded me of parties at Woodford. Oh my God. Everyone just scream—” Hiccup .
“Screaming and bumping into each other and who’s going upstairs with who. So dumb! So … dumb …”
Avery focused on the blur of the storefronts and streetlights through the cab window, her stomach in her throat. “Yes,” she said. “Very dumb.”
Gentle snores purred from Morgan’s mouth. The cab dropped her off first before heading farther uptown to Avery’s apartment. Once Pete arrived a few minutes later, Avery buzzed him up and pressed her lips to his without a word, the kiss like a button that turned off her brain.
Avery and Pete woke up in her bedroom the next morning spooning, their legs entwined in layers of bed sheets.
She couldn’t believe she’d fallen asleep cuddling.
She normally hated the way sweat collected under every fold of her skin, the way a guy’s arms crushed her in an uncomfortable wrestling hold.
She never got enough surface area on the pillow either, because guys’ heads were always twice the size of hers.
Relaxing enough to pass out was usually impossible.
Avery untangled herself from under Pete’s grip and studied his face.
He looked handsome and peaceful in her bed, his lips parted slightly and wavy hair tousled across her pillow.
She padded barefoot to the bathroom to splash water on her face, feeling her hangover in the marrow of her bones.
She needed to guzzle a whole bottle of Advil if she was going to make the Kleinfeld appointment with Morgan later this afternoon.
Pete stirred under the blankets, then rolled over and propped himself up with his elbows. A grin spread across his face. “Morning, sunshine.”
Avery folded herself back under the covers. Her temples throbbed. She didn’t have the energy to kick him out yet.
“Morning,” she mumbled.
Pete yawned, the grin returning when he finished. “Last night was fun, huh?”
Avery nodded but said nothing else. Sex with Pete was fun. She was glad she could have that with him, at least.
“Sorry for texting you so late,” he said. “I was pretty drunk.”
Avery closed her eyes to block out the grating sounds of a garbage truck humming and a child screaming outside her window. “Same. I’m very hungover.”
“Too hungover for Taylor Swift?” Pete navigated to Spotify and jerked his head toward the window. “She’ll help with the noise.”
“I can only handle folklore . Or evermore .”
Pete hit play on “my tears ricochet.” Taylor Swift’s breathy vocals trickled into the air, a balm over the chaos happening outside. Avery rested her head on her pillow, feeling soothed.
“Nice choice,” she said.
They listened in silence for a few minutes, exchanging the occasional peaceful glance and lazy, tired grin.
A warm tranquility settled over Avery as she buried herself deeper into her bed, let her bare leg press against Pete’s under the covers.
She could stay just like this all day with no complaint. Maybe he didn’t have to leave. Not yet.
When the song was over, Pete smoothed down his slept-in cowlick and turned to face her. Avery tensed. He looked like he was about to say something important.
“You know, I’m surprised you answered me last night,” he said. “You didn’t follow me back on Instagram.”
Avery very much hoped they weren’t going to have this conversation. “So what?”
Pete picked at a lint ball stuck to the sheets. “I kind of thought you hated me. After what happened with my parents when you came over.”
Avery rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “I don’t care about that. I don’t hate you.”
“Well, maybe hate is the wrong word …”
Avery narrowed her eyes. Pete clearly had something to say, and he should just say it before Avery’s hangover worsened. Already she felt the beer shits gurgling in her stomach.
“I guess I thought you were done with me,” he said simply. “That’s why I haven’t reached out in so long. If you were wondering.”
Avery rubbed her hands up and down on her face. And here she was thinking this was just a booty call and not that deep. She should’ve known there was too much history between them to keep things casual, that he’d already shown her he was interested in more than she could give him.
“What do you mean, done ?” she asked.
“Like … I don’t know. We were starting a thing. A fresh start, I might add.” His voice was soft, calling back to their conversation at Kenn’s Broome Street bar. “And then we stopped.”
Avery walked to her closet to grab a worn-in hoodie. Pete stared at her. She knew he was waiting for a response, but she needed to think carefully about how she was going to phrase this, how to tell him there was no beginning here because all it would lead to was an end.
“I mean, we haven’t stopped anything,” she said, slipping her head through the neck of her sweatshirt. “You can’t stop something that never started.”
“Of course it started. We’re practically engaged. You’ve met my parents! My mom’s already got her Italian-American grandbabies’ names picked out.”
Pete tried to play off his reply with a smirk, but Avery didn’t budge with even a chuckle. After a beat, she relaxed her face. His jokes weren’t funny right now, but she didn’t need to be such a bitch. Even though she was such a bitch.
“Sorry, it’s early,” she mumbled as an explanation. “And my head is pounding.”
Pete gave a brisk, clipped nod. “Right.”
Avery crossed her arms. She was disappointed.
She thought Pete finally understood her and was giving her what she wanted.
She thought they could hang out in a way that would allow her to remain surface-level.
But she could no longer subtly dodge his attempts at emotional intimacy.
She had to confront him directly, for his own sake.
It was the only way. He would thank her in the long run when he found someone better.
“I hope you know nothing’s going on here.” She pointed back and forth between them. “You booty called me last night, and I responded to your booty call. That’s all that happened.”
Pete tipped his head to the side. “Booty call? What are you talking about?”
“You texted me at 11:00.” Avery pulled her knotted hair into a loose bun on top of her head. She remained standing by the closet, away from Pete. “That, by definition, is a booty call.”
“What is this, a nineties issue of Cosmo ?” Pete asked through a burst of contemptuous laughter. “What makes 11:00, by definition, a booty call?”
Avery pressed two fingers onto the bridge of her nose. He wasn’t getting it. “I don’t want to date you, Pete.”
Pete stared at the foot of the bed. Outside, the M-31 bus made a low buzzing sound and then drove away, belching an exhaust pipe into the street.
“Well, I mean, we don’t need to be in a relationship or anything. Not right away.” He hesitated. “But in the future, maybe. After we get to know each other.”
After we get to know each other. The words rang loud between Avery’s ears, over and over like a cast iron bell.
“I can’t do that,” she said.
“Why?”
Avery shook her head without responding. Pete could never get to know her. He would hate everything he found, everything that happened to turn her into this broken, unlovable person. She was so ashamed of what she’d done, of what Noah did to her. Of who she’d become as a result.
“Why?” he asked again, more urgently.
Avery stared out the window as tears welled on her lower lash line.
She couldn’t look at him. Her glassy eyes would betray her, would reveal the pain she kept buried deep inside, where nobody could find it.
Where not even she could find it if she had it her way, if it didn’t sneak up on her all the time without warning.
She swiped angrily at her eyes, removing the evidence. “I … I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just can’t.”
Pete removed himself from under the covers. He sat down on the edge of the bed and slipped on his shoes, and all Avery wanted to do was pull him toward her and plead with him to stay. Instead, she stared at a dust bunny gliding on top of her dresser, and watched him leave.