Kat had a headache. That was all she knew. She was sleeping, and she had a headache. She groaned because this meant she was going to have to get up out of bed and walk to her bathroom for some Advil. Then it would take at least half an hour to kick in and the whole thing was just annoying. But wait a minute… something wasn't right. Was she…moving?

"Shh." A voice said above her, "You're okay."

What?! Who the hell was that?! She groggily startled awake, opening her eyes in panicked confusion. Patrick Verona's eyes were staring back at her. She was moving; because he was carrying her in his arms!

"Patrick? What do you think you're doing?!"

Her head was pounding and she was so confused. But even without knowing the full situation the emotions she automatically conveyed were anger and indignation. How dare he carry her!

"What am I, some kind of damsel in distress?!"

He smirked at her irritatingly.

"Oh would you calm down. Do you even remember what happened?"

She paused thinking hard intending to answer haughtily that she did, but all she got was a painful red haze. She scowled.

"Maybe not," She reluctantly conceded, but then retorted aggressively, "But if I had to take a guess I'd say you clubbed me over the head and are now dragging me back to your Neanderthal cave to have your way with me because you seem to have some sick fascination with being an interruption in my life as a stone aged level chauvinist pig."

"Gee! How did you know?" He responded sarcastically. Then he continued, "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I was doing you a favor? The only reason why I wouold do so of course is because of the boatloads of praise I get for helping out a defenseless girl like you!"

"That's it. Put me down right now!"

Kat started to squirm in his arms. But he refused to let her down. She felt oddly weak anyway.

"Hey c'mon, I was only joking. You're obviously not a damsel, in distress or otherwise, jeez."

"Let me down!" Kat insisted harshly in a tone that made most people comply instantly out of fear. She was starting to feel more and more embarrassed as she became more awake. For some unknowable reason Patrick Verona carrying her bridal style through their high school halls. Anyone could look out a classroom and see. She didn't spend her entire high school career building up a reputation as a strong formidable woman only to be seen rescued by a scumbag like Verona from something she didn't even remember.

"No." He said firmly, but not unkindly. "Look you took a serious hit to the head and I don't want you to risk walking on your own feet just yet. At least let me get you to the nurse, and then you can spout oodles of feminist crap at me to your heart's content, okay?"

She folded her arms glaring at him stonily, but she stopped fighting to get down all the same. The scowl was aimed in his direction, making him aware of her anger. But little did he know that the anger was dually directed at both him and her. There was anger toward him for disrespecting her wishes and assuming her to be weak because she was a female. And there was anger at herself because she realized that as she gave up squirming she settled into his arms and the fact that she was comfortable, that she could feel his muscles supporting her and liked the feel of being tucked against his chest. He smelt good, and the fact that this mattered even subconsciously made her even more irate than the assumption that she needed to be rescued. KAtarina Stratford hated being the girl who had a crush on a guy because it made her feel weak. Strong feminist woman couldn't be weak enough to let any guy have a hold over her emotions like that, at least she shouldn't. Which is why the scowl was also directed at herself in disgust.

However knowing none of this internal warfare, Patrick assumed all the ire revolved around him so he tried to alleviate the tense silence.

"Look would you feel any better if I said I would do the same thing for a bird with a broken wing?"

"Oh so you're comparing me to a wounded animal? Thanks, I feel much better."

"No. I just meant that I'm not helping you because you're female. Like if you were the captain of the boys' football team I would do the same…" He paused contemplating what he was saying, "No, actually I wouldn't; but only because he's an asshole. But if you were some male that happened to not be an asshole, I would still carry him to the nurse in this situation. Get it?"

She did, but she was still too annoyed with the situation to give him any satisfaction of relieving her anger. He groaned, his head looking up to the ceiling. Kat noticed his long neck was long from this angle, very attractive, and then she got a strong urge to kick herself in the face if that were physically possible.

"Well for what its worth I think what you did was brave. It proved your standing as a stubborn crazy bitch, but still brave." He said it so nonchalantly. Now it was her turn to sigh because she knew he wasn't going to elaborate until she asked the inevitable question. So she ignored the concealed insult and asked instead what both of them knew she was going to ask.

"So, what exactly did I do that was so crazy and yet so brave?"

Patrick laughed.

"You insisted on playing goalie in our gym class's game of hockey because you didn't think it was fair that Coach always picks boys to do it. Of course this is only because the helmets don't usually fit over girls' ponytails – like yours. But rather than be safe, or rational, you screeched out some feminist power thing and became goalie with a total lack of fear, or a helmet. And of course Tyler Fogule, the hockey team's best offense player, hit you square in the forehead. I offered to take you to the nurse when you passed out."

Kat's face turned red. She was remembering bits and pieces of what he said now.

"Oh yea." She said sheepishly, and miserably, too mortified to say anything else. Why was she such an idiot!?

Luckily she was saved by any more awkwardness because Patrick had just reached the door to the nurse's office. He knocked and gave an explanation to the nurse, a very bubbly woman that genuinely cared about every student who came in her office. She let Patrick lower her onto the bed and decided that for once she wasn't going to be openly hostile. He was only trying to help. And the nurse was too nice to verbally abuse anyway.

He lowered her gently onto the bed. It was comfortable, but not nearly as warm. She hated to admit it but she wished she was still in his arms. Then her head started to throb and took away all of her attention before she could address any more self-hatred to herself.

She leaned back into the pillow letting him do all the talking. She was feeling weak again, and she really wanted that Advil. She tuned back in as she heard Ms. Abino (the nurse) earnestly thanking Patrick for bringing her in. She raised her head to look at him.

"Yea, Patrick, I think I owe you a thanks, too." He looked surprised, hell; she'd even surprised herself with that one. That may have been the first non-argumentative thing she'd ever said to him. Then another emotion seemed to flit across his face, concern maybe? She wasn't sure. She put her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes; her head really was killing her.

Next thing she knew the nurse was taking her temperature, and there was a cool ice pack pressed gingerly against her forehead. It was tender but felt good. She was forced to drink some apple juice and soon had enough energy to feel a little like herself again.

"Kat, I can't seem to get a hold of your father right now. Do you know where he is?"

Kat rolled her eyes, "Probably up to his elbows in placenta right now, you won't be able to get a hold of him for a while."

She heard a snigger and looked. Huh, that's funny, she thought Patrick had left, but there he was, leaning against a counter across the room. A sense of vertigo passed over her with the realization that unbeknownst to her he'd been in the room all along and never left.

"Okay, well I'm sorry dear. I would like to send you home but you're in no condition to drive, so I'm afraid you'll just have to stay here until the end of the day or whenever your father can get you." She really looked genuinely apologetic too. Kat sighed. She would much rather be home right now anyway, but all well. She could wait.

"Ms. Abino," Patrick said drawing attention to himself for the first time since Kat thought he left, "Would it be alright if I drove Kat home? I'd only be missing one class, and I'd hate for her to have to wait here indefinitely." Kat's eyes bugged out of her head. He wants to what? Maybe she hit her head harder than she thought.

Ms. Abrino thought it over. "Well, I don't have a problem with that as long as you get a pass from your next teacher. Kat, is that alright with you, and with your parents?" Ms. Abrino didn't know her father. She almost said no, declining the offer, but the thought of waiting forever for her father to come pick her up was just dreadful, so she blurted out instead, "Yea. That's fine with me." Patrick smiled behind Ms. Abrino's back.

"Okay be right back." He said, and was back within a few minutes confirming that his math teacher said to go ahead under the circumstances, as long as he made up his work. And soon Kat was walking out the front doors of the school with Patrick Verona.

"Want me to carry you?" He asked teasingly.

"Hardy har har." She said bitterly, but she couldn't help but notice that his hand was casually resting on the small of her back, as if ready to catch her or guide her if she needed him to. Both noticed that she didn't tell him to pull his hand away.

"Oh no!" She said, stopping abruptly in the middle of the parking lot.

"What?"

"Bianca, she doesn't know she needs a new ride home, she's gonna be stranded here." She made to turn around but he stopped her.

"Don't worry about it; I stopped in the main office after I got my pass to leave. They're gonna get the message to Bianca at the end of the day that her sister went home early."

"Alright what is this?" Kat accused suspiciously.

"What?" Patrick replied innocently, but he couldn't keep the smirk off his face.

"This nice attitude, it's really starting to throw me off."

"Okay, okay, you caught me. This is all a diabolical plot to get you back to my Neanderthal cave and have my way with you."

She wanted to grin, but she stopped herself.

"No seriously."

"Seriously?" He asked, "Okay fine. Seriously, you're one of the few teenage girls I actually enjoy talking to. Even if by talk I mean fight with constantly. I find myself looking forward to our bickering as the highlight of my day, as pathetic as that is. You're witty and fun to be with, and quite frankly, if you wind up hurting your head and not being your usual bitchy self, I would really be quite upset over losing my daily dueling partner. I seriously like trying to get to know the real you, not the you you want everyone else to see."

The feminist in her was insulted, but the female in her wanted to swoon, but then, maybe that was the probable concussion talking.

"Kat, I just want to make sure you're okay. Okay?"

"Okay." She consented, partially due to a particularly painful throb in her temple. However this was also partially due to the fact that he was smiling which always stopped her train of thought short on the track.

She couldn't help it, she smiled back. He put a hand on her shoulder leading her forward.

Finally they reached their destination.

"Oh, and Kat?"

"Yea?"

"You're wearing a helmet." He gave her the only one he had as they stood next to his bike.