A/N : This was a prompt requested by an Anon from Tumblr. I write Bower's Gang prompts, so if you're interested shoot me a request. I'll send a link to the list.
13 (Compliment) + 11 ( "The way you flirt is shameful." ) + Patrick.
Hockstetter was attractive, sure. But he was also intimidating to be around. You first noticed his constant staring in the hallway; he was making it obvious. You passed him and his friends on your way to the bathroom. It was between classes, so you assumed no one would be around. But you were mistaken. Patrick was the first you noticed; he was taller than the other guys, but your eyes seemed to stick on him. The strange way his lips curled up made you think of a cat, like he was hungry and you were his next meal. You ignored their lewd passes towards you and skittered off towards the bathroom like a frightened mouse. Long story short, you stayed in the confines of the bathroom stall for the rest of the class. Your cheeks were warm in embarrassment.
Strangely enough, the glowering at you didn't stop. You were in math class the second time you noticed Patrick watching you. All class you were feeling like someone was glaring holes into the back of your head. You turned and looked over your shoulder; to your horror Patrick was behind you – nothing between you but an empty seat.
Meeting his eyes, you stared at him back, lifting your brow as if to ask what he wanted. If Mr. Lyle caught you chatting, he'd order you to attend detention, so you kept your mouth tightly shut and tapped your pen on your shoulder. Patrick seemed to understand and took a pen from his pencil case, writing something on a small square of paper. He got up and dropped down into the empty seat behind you; the warmth in your cheeks flared up again. The note was slid over your shoulder and fell into your lap. You tried to ignore the boney fingers moving down the length of your arm and read it with haste.
Cute panties; red silk. For me?
Your breath caught in your throat and you nearly choked on nothing. You were so embarrassed. Had he been staring at your panties the entire class? You reached back and tugged the end of your shirt down, sitting up at your desk. The square of paper was now a crumbled mess in your hand. You easily ignored Patrick for the rest of the class, but it wasn't easy. His warm breath was at the back of your neck and you could swear he had sniffed your hair at least once.
A day later he asked you why you didn't reply back. His lips were curled up in the same cat-like grin you found oddly attractive. You didn't know what to say; you found it creepy. He waited for a response, leaning his elbows against the small lunch table. You normally sat with others; you had one close friend. But, she at home sick and you were left to the mercy of Hockstetter. He was intimating, that was for sure. You managed to tell him in a whisper that you didn't find his comment very funny. Surely high school boys had better ways to flirt; you rolled your eyes as he chuckled. This was Patrick, however. You weren't sure he even knew how to flirt without adding something lewd into it.
"Don't get yer panties in a twist. I was just joshin' ya, princess."
You scoffed; no shit. Who was he to mess with your mind? Ever since he began 'joshing you', a couple weeks back, it's been hard to ignore him. You can't focus, can't sleep. All your attention has been on Patrick. The shameless grin he gave you when something he said would ruffle your feathers. The way his dead eyes would hypnotize you, snare you like a deer caught in the headlights. He was evil; he had to be. All the red lights were flashing; glowing brighter than the hazard lights on the Derry Dept. Public Works sawhorses that blocked the road on the afternoon of that terrible blood. That same year a boy died – George Denbrough, you recall. It was ominous; you felt it. But, something pushed you towards the danger. You wanted the attention from Patrick, even if the teen was evil.
"Why do you look at me like that?" You pushed yourself to say the next part, leaning forward in your seat. "Like you want to eat me."
That shameless grin split his face. It reminded you of the Cheshire Cat from the Lewis Carroll novel Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. A roll of sharp white teeth bared at you. Most everyone's mad here, you expected him to say. You may have noticed that I'm not all there myself. Did that make you mad for wanting him?
"Maybe I do." Patrick licked his lips. "I bet you taste bitter. That good girl attitude has to be a lie. You must think you piss rosewater, princess."
The hell was he talking about? Your temper burned hot. "I most certainly do not. People get my respect if they deserve it. You certainly don't, Hockstetter."
His hands flew up in defense. "I get it; no reason for violence. You have daddy issues. Maybe that's why I'm so attracted to ya. Good girl lookin' for a rough fuckin' without ties. I can relate." Patrick chuckled and set his hands down on the table; they were lovely. You wondered just how skilled he was with his fingers. Would they fill you? 2 or 3 at a time; knuckle deep inside you.
Warmth spread inside you; it made you feel too eager. A gentle laugh escaped your lips. "Sorry to disappoint, but I don't think so. Sleep with you, really? Work on learning to talk to girls first, then we'll see. Manners will get you further with me than lewd comments."
You were done with him. You smiled and stood up, shoving your chair up against the table and walked away. On the outside you were brave; curious even. But, on the inside you were a hot mess. It took everything you had not to glance over your shoulder and see if he was watching you. A cold sweat broke out across your skin; an ominous feeling washed over you like a tidal way. What had you done?
Patrick continued to relentlessly hassle you throughout the school week; Friday was steadily approaching. It was a dangerous game of cat and mouse and you were at a dead end. He was beside you at all times – luckily he hadn't followed you into the girl's bathroom yet. The last interaction you had with him before going home had your head spinning. The persistent teen followed you into the library after school – you were hunting for a work of fiction to write your book report on and as luck would have it, Patrick volunteered to be your partner. He wasn't going to help, but that didn't mean you were going to fail because of him either.
"Horror should do. It's been a while since I've read a good scary novel," you whispered. Frankenstein. Carrie. The Haunting of Hill House. You pilled each of them into your arms.
A drawn out sigh caught your attention; it was obvious how bored Patrick was. You turned and glared at him, snorting as you witnessed the lazy way he was rested up against the dusty shelves; eyes closed and pretending to be asleep. Like the illiterate pinhead he is. You rolled your eyes and moved over to his side, yanking on the sleeve of his plain colored tee. Patrick cracked open an eye and stared at you.
"Pick one," you ordered. He shut his eye and returned to acting as if he were asleep. You curled up your nose in annoyance and yanked harder on his sleeve. "Patrick – please – this is a grade. Least you can do is pick the book."
"Persuade me." Patrick again opened his eye; Cheshire grin on his face.
We can fail – should be persuasion enough. You grunted; he wanted more than words. More than asking. No way were you going to do that. Under his watch you kissed the tip of your fingers and placed them against his warm cheek. Patrick's other eye opened; both giving you an unamused look. "You never learn. How far are you willing to go for sex?"
"Ya don't want to know the answer to that," Patrick said with a smirk. He grabbed your upper arm and pulled you against him. His slender hips grinded against yours. "Trust me, princess. And joshin' me like ya are, is gonna get ya punished."
You narrowed your eyes in puzzlement. What did he mean? "I'm not teasing you and If I did, it was not my intention." You chewed your lip and tried to recall the moment you had done it, but no memory came to mind. A low cry tore passed your lips as Patrick yanked your hair and forced back your head. "That hurt, Patrick." Tears blurred your sight until you blinked them away and glared at the brazen teen. His half lidden eyes made you panic.
"No, no, no … never do that. Those lips are too sexy to be marked up with bites." Did he just compliment you? A cold shiver racked your body. Patrick leaned forward and briefly kissed you, running his tongue over your lips in a wet streak. It was both disgusting and hot. You wanted more, but Patrick removed himself from you. He wasn't even fazed, but you were a mess.
"The way you flirt is shameful." Your voice was a broken whisper. The entire incident had you shaking. "I'd be lying if I said that wasn't tempted."
Patrick chuckled, twirling a lock of your hair around his finger. That same wide grin split his face. "That's my good girl. You won't be the same after I'm done fuckin' ya."
You had no doubt about that.